Downstream6 Days In The Périgord

A Journey By Canoe

Steven R. House

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This text is provided by Green River Canoes Ltd and describes an Inn-to-Inn Guided Canoe Trip whose details are fully defined on the web-site at www.greenrivercanoes.com .

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Steven House & Steve Lines.

© Steven R. House 2013

For George, who showed me life by the river

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“Believe me, my young friend, there is nothing - absolutely nothing - half so much worth doing as simply messing about in boats.”

Kenneth Grahame, Wind in the Willows

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“ContentsGreen River Canoes 11

Introduction 13

Chapter 1: To the River 15

Chapter 2: To the Canoes 29

Chapter 3: To the Cave 53

Chapter 4: To the Dordogne 73

Chapter 5: Castle to Castle 91

Chapter 6: Châteaux to Siorac 105

Chapter 7: Back to Brive 125

Green River CanoesWe provide Inn-to-Inn Guided Canoeing Trips on beautiful calm green rivers in the south of France and in the Ardennes region of the south of Belgium.

This text describes the 6 Days Périgord Trip in the Dordogne region of France with canoeing on the Vézère and the Dordogne rivers.

This trip is described in full detail on our website and in the downloadable brochure from here.

On these pages you will find a more informal description of the trip which is intended to give a feel of how the trip goes and includes various anecdotes from all the trips I’ve done on these rivers in the past ten years.

I hope you like the descriptions and that it entices you to join us on a trip one day.

IntroductionBefore we start I just want to make sure you have the links to the more formal information about the trip. Take your time in examining the summary page for the trip and then look at the day-to-day schedule and the description of the hotels we use. This should give you a good idea of what to expect from the trip.

The When&What pages (on the web-site) will also help answer your questions as will the Activity pages. The Prices and Dates page is self explanatory and the Details and Queries page may also answer some of the more technical questions you might have.

If you have further questions then please contact us, we are only to happy to help.

In particular if the dates we've scheduled don't fit your requirements or you would like to change the schedule in some way then we will do our best to help you.

If you are a group of 4 or more then we are also happy to arrange a private trip for you. Just provide us with the dates you would like, the trip your are interested in (with any schedule changes you require) and we will do our utmost to provide it. Although our regular and scheduled trips have a maximum of 7 guests and 2 guides, larger groups can be accommodated with private and custom trips.

Chapter 1: To The River

In which the cast is introduced and the scene is set.

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St. Leon, I was still only in St. Leon. I lay in bed looking up at the ceiling where a fan wasn’t spinning. I’m in France, not Saigon. “Everyone gets everything he wants. I wanted a mission, and for my sins, they gave me one. Brought it up to me like room service. It was a real choice mission, and when it was over, I never wanted another.” Who was I kidding? I’m here to guide a river trip down a couple of rivers. I’m working for a canoe outfit and we have some guests over from the USA. It’s not really going to be anything like a river trip on the Mekong. Still I’m hoping it will be an adventure of some sorts.

Yesterday I left the comfort of my friends in Paris and took the slow train down to Brive. I drowsed and slept as I generally do on the train. It wasn’t a TGV and it wasn’t busy and I didn’t have to engage in any bonhomie. Outstanding. A French word came out. I imagine I shall have to get used to it. After Limoge I start to notice the landscape. After Uzerche a river appears tumbling and falling in a narrow valley. It’s the Vézère. It looks a bit fierce. Fortunately it calms down further downstream.

The trip is getting closer and I must prepare myself for being polite and avoiding using expletives. Shit, that’ll be hard. Also I must remember to not talk about three things: Politics, Religion and myself. Especially myself.

At Brive I was met by my colleague and co-guide Paul. He's the boss and I’m just the gopher. Forget the gopher. I’m the water-rat. Which is just as well as Paul knows all the ropes and I’m the rookie. Cripes I’m a bird too. No matter. Paul has been here a day already and has laid the foundation for the trip. We have a minibus, we have picnic gear and we have a collapsible canoe on

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the roof. I look suspiciously at this as it looks remarkably insubstantial. I fear that this will be my boat.

I think I’m ready for this expedition. I have canoed before, I canoed only last October and it’s May now, but it’s long time since I paddled with any frequency. I barely know one end of a canoe from the other. Fortunately Paul seems confident in my ability and has assured me that the rivers are not raging torrents but really little more than quiet green streams. It’s going to be like “Wind in the Willows”.

I think back to previous trips. The time I fell out of the canoe whilst getting into it. The time I lost a canoe because it got pinned under a tree. The time I flicked a floating dead fish into the breasts of a guest with my paddle.

Which is all very well but I will have other problems too. We have guests. Worse than that I am expected to look after them, to accompany them on the river, to help them learn to paddle and to tell them something of what’s going on around them. It’s not possible to brush up on one’s social skills without being sociable. I shall have to do my best and jump in the deep end. No, not the deep end.

Paul has convinced that though the guests will be from the USA they will be able to understand me. I’m English. He has also reassured me that it’s a rule that people who are prepared to come on a canoeing holiday are quite easy going and friendly. In any case they have paddled before and know about the vagaries of travel on the water. He’ll be doing all the hard work in the

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background and all I have to do is get them, and the canoes, from one place to the next. A small matter of paddling downstream for four or five hours. Without losing anyone.

I’m apprehensive of course. I’ve never had a job like this in my life. Would I rather be sitting at my deck looking at a computer screen or here in France profonde with the early summer sun on my back? I don’t think so. I’m ready. I’ve got the shorts and boots on. A short-sleeved shirt and a hat that’ll protect me from the sun and that will float on the river when I lose it. Time to meet the guests.

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To accompany us on the trip we have three couples and Mitch. Mitch tells us he’s from Nevada. The couples are Erin and Ryan, Tom and Nancy, and Mary and Joseph. We just introduce ourselves to each other as we meet them off the train and bundle them and the luggage into the van. We are off. First off it’s a short forty minute drive to St. Leon in the Vézère Valley and a picnic on the river bank to introduce the trip, go over the itinerary and generally break the ice.

Amazingly no-one on this trip has said they have any special dietary requirements nor allergies. The last thing we need is a nut allergy in Walnut country. Unbelievably we have had allergies to alcohol in the past. That must be tough.

Down on the riverside we choose a picnic table under a parasol and settle ourselves down. The river is sliding by beside the weeping willows. Paul and I go inside to order the food and wine. We have a selection of cheeses and cold meats and a couple of bottles of wine. The violet confit adds an unusual touch. We keep going back for more bread as we sit in the sun and chat. Everyone seems easy going and relaxed. We watch a couple of canoes slip by and clearly the river should pose no problems.

After the plates are cleared away the maps come out and Paul and I go over the trip. Every one of course has read all about the trip on the website before booking. They’ve figured out that it suits them and the reason they aren’t doing the trip for themselves is that they want us to take the responsibility. It’s a bit tedious then to go over the trip like this. They do like to be reminded but after the first few days have been described and some places pointed out on the map it becomes obvious that the

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interest is failing. So we forget the map then and suggest instead of driving to our hotel we could walk. Why not. A slow walk will take about an hour, although I have to point out that it is a gentle uphill all the way.

Maps are always good for a laugh. I recall the time I was walking with a client and we took a short cut by bushwhacking through a wood. He claimed I was lost. I flagged down a car when we reached a small road and confirmed we were going in the right direction.

Unsurprisingly everyone is up for a walk. After all they are here for an adventure holiday and not to sit about in the van. Paul of course will have to drive the van up the hill with all the luggage. That’s his lot as I don’t drive. That’s a cunning ploy devised when I was teenager and put off by the antics of my Dad and his ancient Morris Minor. That’s another tale.

Before we set off however we’ll have a little stroll around the village, and in particular, have a peek inside the local church which is just next to us on the river. I must try not to get too complacent about these types of things. How old is it? 11th century I say, and added to later. It seems to work for almost everything around here. It’s a plain church and very simple inside. One of the ceilings has the vague smudging of an old mural recently revealed. It’s more imposing outside with the rounded end of the Romance style of architecture. The local yellow stone which ages to grey can look golden in the right light. The tall flowers planted around the base of the building relieve lines. Some scratches on the wall mark previous flood levels. One of

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them is chest height for me. The whole village must have been under water.

The small village is clustered together around narrow lanes. Bright flowers erupt everywhere and tiny, sometimes overgrown, gardens come into view on the corners. It’s quiet around here too. The village is set off from the main road and is not therefore cursed by through traffic. I noticed a few cyclists at the picnic spot.

Before we leave the village we wander back to the van so they can get their gear sorted out. Walking boot and cameras and things.

I don’t say anything. One of the wonders of the guests is how many different outfits they often have. Got to have the right stuff.

Our walk winds it’s way out of the village and past a large house. The roof of the local Château can be seen, but we will get a better view from the river tomorrow. This large house however is almost a castle or château in it’s own right. Behind an iris topped wall and through a gate designed like a portcullis can be seen a square bailey, with mullion arched windows and crenelated battlements. Who lives in this house?

Up the walled road we pass our first Walnut Trees. These are ubiquitous around here. There are Walnut orchards everywhere as well as wild Walnut trees at every juncture. We shall get used to walnut at dinner time: in drinks, in salads and in desserts. As we continue up the road we pass a small chapel by the cemetery.

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The walls around the cemetery have been newly repaired and glow in that now familiar yellow. A peek over the wall reveals huge family sarcophagi with individual mementoes on top. Next door a new extension to the cemetery has been built. It is ominously huge. Unless the plague revisits this part of the world it should last for centuries.

The trail then crosses the main road and starts to climb a rocky track. It’s overgrown with familiar hedgerow shrubs: Blackthorn and Hawthorn, Wild Roses and Box. On either side a crumbled dry-stone wall is covered in moss. These walls remind us that these hills were formerly used for sheep grazing until it became uneconomic in the 1950s. I’ve been told that dry-stone walls can last up to 200 years without attention and I’m guessing these were built sometime in the mid 19c. The houses that can be glimpsed either side of the trail reveal a more modern use for the land. They seem to be summer homes. One has a small swimming pool.

At the top of the climb the trail breaks out onto a small lane and we turn left to follow the road past open meadows. They are overgrown now but will be scythed down in a matter of weeks to be turned into hay. For now though they are glowing with wild flowers and the buzzing of bees. The next junction sees us turn off the lane and onto a farm track with hedges either side. Now we have brambles and Traveller’s Joy beside us and we disturb several types of butterfly as we pass: some Blues, some Marbled Whites and some elusive Fritillaries lead the way.

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I think to myself do I admit professing a knowledge of the names of these butterflies. Would it make me appear to too smart by half? I’d better lay off the Latin names.

As we climb towards the farm buildings ahead of us we can turn to the right and see the village of St. Leon, it’s church and its château below us in the distance. We can see how the valley curves, but the river remains invisible. On reaching the farmhouse at the top of our climb we catch our breath. The farm looks tired and unused. No-one is about. May be it’s the time of day. However as the trail levels out we can see that a vegetable allotment has been carved into one of the fields. Someone must live here.

For the final stretch the trail plunges into a a wood and suddenly the path becomes very damp. We keep to the edge of the path but sometime resort to walking in the wood to avoid the yellow sticky mud. I notice that many of the trees are Sweet Chestnuts. The trees have been coppiced in the past but the wood is long overdue a cut. Further on the trail sides are covered in bracken and it’s about here that I have to look carefully for the side track that will take us to the Relais. It’s difficult to locate and when I do I have to go ahead and beat the bracken down. At one time the Relais was used mainly by travellers along the long-distance trail. These days the clientele more often arrive by car. It’s no wonder the trail is overgrown.

I’m thinking again about telling people the names of trees and flowers and bushes. Should I say? Should I wait until I’m asked? Should I explain what coppicing is? I think I’d better wait to be asked but give a few tentative identifications in an attempt to

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gauge any interest. Sometimes people are and sometimes they don’t give a flying one.

Just before we arrive the trail turns along a bank and gives us another view into the valley. Paul is here and has been busy unloading the luggage. The rooms are allocated, the fridge with the cold drinks is pointed out, everyone can see that the place has a swimming pool and we agree on a rendezvous time to leave for dinner. Paul and I can now enjoy some downtime.

Lying on the beds in our shared room we chat about the trip ahead. Not too deeply though as we’ll get through by dealing with each day at a time and just making sure that we stay one day ahead of the game. Instead we take a nap.

At seven o-clock we rouse ourselves to take our guests to dinner in the village. I asked if anyone wanted to walk down. They did. So we did. This time walking down the lane instead of taking the trail. It’s an easy stroll. Halfway down Paul passed with the rest of the group. We are having dinner at the Old Post Office and take a table outside on the road. The menu of course causes a few wrangles but once we have explained that almost every dish is duck everyone settles down. We calm a potential furore about choosing the wine by pointing out that they have pichets on the wine list. That’s easy. We explain that we are paying for the standard menu, but you can have what you like and pay the difference. For drinks and the like Paul and I will run a tab and bill everyone from time to time.

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Please god we have no whingers who say I didn’t have that but so and so had that.

Lubricated by sufficient alcohol the first evening and dinner seems to go well. People are talking and smiling. We have a few questions about what we are doing tomorrow but it seems nobody is being very picky and asking those impossible to answer questions.

I restrain myself about being obtuse. If someone asks how long is the paddle it’s very tempting to quip back and say it depends how fast they paddle or it depends on how fast the river is. When I get to know these people later then I can start being cheeky. For now I just stick with averages and say that we are under no pressure to race down the river. On the contrary we are here to enjoy it.

We’ve persuaded our guests to have dinner at 7.30. It still amazes me how early people seem to have dinner in the USA. I try not to mock, but suggest they should try having a holiday in Spain.

By the time dinner is done it is knocking on 10 o’clock in the evening. It’s time to drive back up the hill to the Relais. Fortunately no-one wants to walk. It’s my duty to accompany anyone who does and so I’m relieved that we are all jumping back in the van. Soon we are back in our room. Lights out. Time for Paul to knock around all night and claim not to be able to sleep. He dreams that he is awake.

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Often we lie awake for hours musing on the trip. We have to turn the trip around to become something less prosaic than a simple meander down some of Frances calmest and greenest rivers. We have to liken it to Scott, but then we’d have to die. So then we come up with Shackleton. Frozen canoes and open sea voyage beckon. But then, the genius, we come up with Apocalypse Now. Our rivers will become the Mekong. We’ll forget the fact that we are supposed to go upstream. Who would do that in a canoe? What will be our Cambodia? What is our mission? Who will be Willard and who Kurtz. We begin to riff on this as the night lengthens. It’s possible we fall asleep and then get the riff going again in the early morning when neither of us can sleep. The boss back in Vermont can be Kurtz: Cornrow Jim, he’s mad as a caged weasel in a lunatic asylum and he has the looks.

Remarkably one of the guys on the trip has a Martin Sheen look about him: Mitch is our man. We haven’t found out much about him yet. He has told us his days as a motocross rider and how his legs are all smashed up. He has a military look too. Cropped hair and a look that says he might kill you. May be not, he seems like a pleasant bloke.

Now all we need is to fill out the rest of the crew and some quotes. We spend sometime racking our heads to remember lines from the film.

“Everyone gets everything he wants. I wanted a mission, and for my sins, they gave me one. Brought it up to me like room-service. It was a real choice mission, and when it was over, I never wanted another.”

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So we have our setting. We have a crew, of sorts, and we have our mission. What we don’t have is sleep. What we need is sleep. I sleep. Paul doesn’t. Probably because I’m snoring.

I'd wake up and there'd be nothing. I hardly said a word to my wife, until I said "yes" to a divorce. When I was here, I wanted to be there; when I was there, all I could think of was getting back into the Périgord. I'm here a week now ... waiting for a mission ... getting softer. Every minute I stay in this room, I get weaker, and every minute Neanderthal man squats in the bush, he gets stronger. Each time I looked around the walls moved in a little tighter.

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Chapter 2: To The Canoes

In which we go canoeing for the first time.

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The next morning everyone gathers at breakfast. A simple affair. Juice, coffee and croissants. The mood is good and the weather looks fine. Paul and I go over the day. We’ll do a short canoe trip in the morning and then visit a cave shelter in the afternoon, and then we’ll see if we can fit anything else in.

Some of us are going to walk down to the village but before we do that we have to ensure that everyone has the gear they need for the day ahead. Dry-bags are issued for stuff to carry in the canoe and walking shoes and extra clothes can be put in the van for use later.

It’s a rigmarole explaining what to take. Wet weather gear, cameras, phones, wallet, sunscreen, hat and all the other bits and pieces. It’s important to explain that all the stuff should be ready to hand. Even a change of clothing in case you fall in and a fleece or something as the cave can be chilly. It’s the first day so I try to be patient. They’ll get the hang of things in a few days and the van will turn in a tumbling mass of everyones gear.

Paul and I have pulled out the picnic gear that we’ll use for our lunches and have loaded up the cooler with stuff from the fridge. Two frozen water bottles will accompany the wine box. Those that are walking with me then set off down the hill. Like last night its an easy walk. The lane is interesting as we pass several houses. Nobody is about. Not even a rabid dog.

I’m thankful no-one is clacking down the road with walking poles. What’s that all about? I never really get it. Have to be careful

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though as some people have dodgy knees and need them. Still hate the clack clack clack though.

Lower down the hill we pass some fields on our right. They’ve already been cut for hay which is a pity as earlier in the season they are waist high with grasses and flowers and it’s a great spot for photographing butterflies. Early in the morning I’ve often found Marbled Whites still roosting at the top of long stems of grass. Sometimes a Common Blue too and from time to time Six Spot Burnets in their red and black livery.

Just before we come to the crossroads at the entrance to the village we pass Louis Dega cycling back up the hill. He’s wearing his customary outfit: dungarees, wellington boots, floppy hat and wire-rimmed spectacles. He looks all the world like Dustin Hoffman in Papillon. That’s Louis Dega. We’ve been seeing him on this stretch of road for a couple of seasons now. Always on this road, up or down, always on his bicycle and always dressed the same. We wave and smile and he waves and smiles too. We have no idea who he his or where he lives or what he does. He just is. A familiar and strangely reassuring sight.

In seasons past we’ve had other Degas. At one time we had a strange chap who used to be seen walking the road between St. Leon and Montignac. He was walking one way or the other clutching a carrier bag. He walked with a slight hunch and stoop. In the last season we saw him he had started wearing a luminous visibility jacket. We can only presume someone had given it to him. It looked dangerous as he was always carelessly walking along the main road. Then one season he was gone. We missed him, but now we have a new Dega. We’ve christened them all

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Degas now. Every village has it’s own Dega. We have a theory about that now and we look out for them. Possibly in the back of our minds we have ambitions to a be Dega ourselves.

Paul tells me about the Dega in his village back at home.

He’s called Dan and is often to be seen riding around on a mower. It’s a John Deere.

That’s important as he's very loyal to the brand, as many of these guys are. He’s loyal to no end of certain brands; trucks and sports teams for example. He wears Boston Red Sox hats, socks, shirts and gloves. He works hard and appreciates real friendship. He's a bit slow but "knows" people well particularly when someone is using or belittling him. He speaks with a high nasal voice. He's 62 years old, wiry and thin with bowed legs, but he’s strong and just does the work he needs to do with no complaint. He has simple pleasures and a singular purpose in completing the task at hand. He's a man of few words, but if you show an interest many words will spill out and keep coming. He has, as they probably all do, some odd hobbies and habits. The one I know of Dan is that he loves women's high heeled shoes. He has many pairs, and he wears them.

I reminisce about Mr Fox, the fellow that used to wander my village at home in Kent. He worked for the council doing various bits and pieces around the village. He pushed a handcart full of his gardening tools. He had a cleft palate and so talked strange. Kids in the village used to tease him mercilessly and imitate his voice cruelly. He was liked though I think and I knew him too as a fixture in the local church where he was a churchwarden. What is

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that strange pole thing that churchwardens carry in church sometimes? Also what is a sides-man?

Arriving in the village we stroll over the bridge and down into the canoe place. I remark that the bridge was designed by Eiffel of Eiffel Tower fame. It’s a simple truss bridge built with iron girders and rivets. I was once told this was an Eiffel bridge but I can find no evidence or documentation. The canoe place is a grassy sward next to the river with a huge pile of canoe and kayaks, obviously, and a marquee where we find Philippe who greets us like long lost friends. He’s a bear of a man and built like a rugby player. We’ve learnt in the past that he has canoed for France in sprint events. He’s all smiles as we get everyone a paddle and a lifejacket.

We look at the river, which is running more swiftly than we thought past the pontoon. This is where we finish for the day so don’t go sailing past I remind everyone. Normally on the river we stick together but sometimes people like to go on ahead. That’s fine by us as long as they understand that they will have to deal with any obstacles themselves and woe betide them if they miss the place where we will stop for lunch or the take-out point for the day. It has happened. We have had irate clients, and when we do we have to take the criticism on the chin. ‘I told you so’ just doesn’t cut it.

Anyway we pile into the van for the short run up to Montignac where we will start todays paddle. On this first day we could have two guides on the river but Paul has decided not to paddle with us and will instead rendezvous with us at the lunch spot in Sergeac. In the van I forget to remind Philippe not to take the

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back road over the bridge in Thonac. It’s annoying as the road runs alongside the river and gives pleasant views and passes one of the picturesque Châteaux we will go by on the canoes. I don’t like to have the clients get a preview like this so I chat away and try to distract them from looking.

Ten minutes later we are in Montignac and I help Philippe unload the canoes and get them lined up on the small beach below the ramp. Before we start off though we decide to have a wander around the village. Some of the clients are ready for a coffee. I have to go to the bakery to pick up bread for the picnic.

Back at the boats it’s time for the safety talk. This is always a bit problematic because many of the clients are experienced paddlers and because the river is so soporific it provides almost no dangers. Even so I step in and remind them of the procedures for falling out, for avoiding strainers (trees trapped in the river) and for preventing your boat getting pinned on rocks. I remind them too of the essential paddle strokes and who is responsible for what in a tandem canoe. Two people in a canoe always provides scope for tensions and I’m hoping that we don’t get too much bickering on the first day as people get used to paddling together.

In the past I remember having to separate only a a few couples because they were both incompetent. People generally get on. Besides some people like to bicker.

At the waters edge I’m the one to get my feet wet as I hold the canoes steady as people get in and I push them off with instructions to hang about whilst everyone gets in the water. You

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have to laugh at the number of clients who will avoid getting their feet wet. How can you go on a canoeing holiday and not expect to get your feet wet is beyond me? Even if they have speciality canoeing shoes they don’t want to get them wet. If I’m in the mood I’ll get them wet for them. Not today though. Not the first day. May be later when I’ve had time to figure out how they’ll take it.

Finally I’m the last to get into my boat and we are all in the water. I’m paddling solo. So is Mitch. He’s specifically requested his own boat as usually, if we have an odd number of guests, I would paddle with them. Not this time though. It’s better really as I can then concentrate on guiding and generally either lead the way if I ascertain that’s what the group wants or linger back and get in the sweep position behind everyone else. Either way works and in any case usually I flit between the two.

To start with I get everyone to get close together and raft up. That is, all the canoes are lined up alongside one another and being held together by holding each others gunnels. Gunnels I said! I explain that we don’t have to hang close together, but that if you go out in front you are on your own and have to make your own decisions about which part of the river to follow. The river is quite low so if you make a wrong decision you might run aground and have to walk the canoe a bit. You’ll get your feet wet then. If you want, I say, we can play follow the leader as we progress down the river. In any case if you get too far ahead and haven’t seen anyone for a while it might be an idea to wait and let the rest catch up. Nobody wants to miss the lunch stop.

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Just before I let the raft break up I mention some of the animals and birds we are likely to see. Kingfishers, Wagtails, Dippers and Herons as well as the ubiquitous Mallard Ducks. We’ll see other woodland birds and perhaps some raptors too. As for mammals I point out that we’ll be lucky to see anything at all but to look out

for Coypu (Nutria), which was introduced from South America, and the Otter. I’ve seen a Mink before and sometimes you see Red Squirrels in the trees on the river bank. I’ve also seem Martens and on one memorable occasion a Fox trotting down the bank in parallel to me. I point out that it’s quite unusual to see these as the noise we make will make them hide long before we approach. We will also see plenty of damselflies and dragonflies along the way and butterflies will cross our path. We will probably hear frogs but not see them. I mention that I’ll be happy to answer any questions about the wildlife and any about the wildflowers and trees we will see. I point out that we have reference books in the van to check any ideas and to look up anything we are unsure of. Finally we are off swinging into the current and trying to avoid being swept under the overhanging trees on one bank where the current seems to be taking us.

It’s a beautiful day. It’s quiet. No-one else is on the river. Not even a fisherman. We start to see some of the birds I was mentioning.

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The Wagtails are most common and easy to spot with the characteristic undulating flight they have. When on the ground they also have the little wag dance as they flick their tails. Usually we see the Grey Wagtails, which are disconcertingly yellow. They have a grey head though and the Yellow Wagtails have yellow heads. The Pied Wagtails we sometimes see are black and white as you would expect.

Kingfishers are about too, though they are normally only seen by the canoe at the front of our flotilla. They are easily disturbed and fly off in fast straight flights about a foot off the water. They can be hard to see except when the metallic blue colour gets caught in the sunlight. We push them down the river, until finally, they can get back upstream by cutting a bend or flying over our heads. It’s only then that we get a glimpse of the orange-red chest.

When the river speeds up a little over quick riffles we catch sight of the Dippers. A small black bird with a white chest. They have a bobbing action when on the ground and a straight and direct flight. These birds are rumoured to feed by dipping underwater looking for insect nymphs. I haven’t seen this though.

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From time to time we disturb a Grey Heron who we also push downstream. They lazily fly a few yards before getting disturbed again. They never fly far and though they are usually silent after being moved on a few times they have a good croak and a moan. They too will use a bend in the river to get back to their territory although sometimes they will roost high up in the trees and wait for us to pass. For a large bird they are strangely difficult to get near. Usually they are seen in singles but in the breeding season they come together in Heronries and one time, on another river, I saw seventeen all at once turning slowly on a thermal above a cliff.

The Vézère River is easy to paddle, it’s chocolate coloured water taking us slowly downstream. From time to time we cross sides to take the deeper water running on the outside of the bend. Novices will often try to cut the corner and then be surprised by running aground as the stream runs shallow.

A few minutes later we paddled around a bend to come across our first Château. This is the Château de Losse, but, first, in front of it we come to the remains on some old locks. On one side of the river the lock gates remain intact, though the wooden gates have long gone, and on the other side the remains of a broken wall is all that is left of the dam that blocked the river. In former times the river was the means of transport for goods downstream to Bordeaux and the coast. Perhaps wine was being taken down. I’ve been unable to find any information about these locks. Three of them are evident between Montignac and St. Leon-sur-Vézère. I imagine they were built during the heyday of canal building in the 1750s as the major canal systems in Great Britain and France were. The locks on the Lot River date from the 1770s. They are not insubstantial and must have been built to a high standard to

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have lasted this long. I can only suppose that they were built to control the level of the river for transport and that, then, the roads were impractical.

The three locks here are built fairly close to three Châteaux too so I’m wondering whether tolls were charged by the local landowners

for boats to pass. I have no idea what type of boats they were either. I’m assuming they would have been of a very shallow draft and probably poled downstream. Perhaps they were pulled by draught horses, although there is not much evidence of a canal path these days.

The first thing to notice about the Château is the way it is built right on the edge of the river. It seems to hang over and a curtain of long ivy conceals an overhang into which we paddle. Inside the sunlight gleams green through the ivy and the caustic light

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glistens on the roof of the overhang. It’s a good place to rest awhile and I’ve used it before in the past to shelter from rain. Not today though. It’s cool under here. It looks like you could disembark here and make an entrance into the castle. but you can’t. The Château is open to the public but they have made no provision for visitors arriving from the river. A pity.

Pulling out from underneath the ivy curtain we spin around to get a better look at the Château. Research has told me that the Losse family came here from Flanders in the 11th Century and built a stronghold here. In 1576 a Renaissance Hall was built, by Jean II Marquess of Losse, inside the medieval fortress and nothing much has changed since. The religious wars at the time meant that he improved the defences of the curtain walls and barbican. Over the entrance you can read the inscription  “Man does as he may, Fortune as she will”.

The river swings on as we pass underneath the bridge at Thonac and catch a glimpse of the Church of St. Pierre with its strange open belfry.

Later we come across another lock. This is the best preserved and the easiest to access so we swing across the river and paddle into the old lock gate from the down stream end. There is just enough room to turn around. We examine the brick work and can see the slots where the gates fitted and the grooves where the hinges sat.

In another few minutes we turn another corner to come across the Château Belcayre which is also built on a small cliff

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overlooking the river. This château is more dramatic than that at Losse as it’s built on a jagged spur which sticks out over the river giving it a more dramatic look. It’s history is vague though. All I can find out is that it was built in the 15th century and repaired in the 19th century. I can find no information of who owned it during what time periods. I do know that it is privately owned now. The ‘Keep Out’ signs on the lawns are testament to that.

These châteaux are stunning though and even if I’ve paddled this river many times I still like to see them. It’s hard to think of new ways to photograph them though. I think I should come back on a hike and see them from another perspective.

As we spin our canoes around for one last look at the château we must be careful not to get caught up in the overhanging trees. It’s no matter really as the river is so slow we can brush underneath the branches and get ourselves into the main stream again. After the excitement of the architecture on the river our attention goes back to the wildlife as we disturb the birds along the river bank. Before long however the river curves to the right and undercuts a cliff and starts to speed up. A little care has to be taken here not to get the canoe too close to the edges of the limestone where the river has sharpened the edges. This quick rush is soon finished however and we find ourselves at the rocky spot whee we have to pull over for lunch.

I tell everyone to slow down and give each other room as I go first, jump out of the canoe and pull up onto the rocks so it doesn’t float away. Then each of the canoes comes in one at a time and I help them disembark, collect the gear they need and tie the boat to the next. Soon all five boats are tied in a fanned

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out loop and in turn tied to a small fishing punt which is chained to the bank. We scramble up the trail to find Paul is here and has set up lunch on a picnic table.

We are at the small village of Sergeac and at the end of a tiny lane is a path down to the river and here, sitting two metres above the water, is a single picnic table set amongst a stand of White and Black Poplars. Beside us is a small stone commemorative thing which seems to be a Madonna. It think it’s supposed to mark a spring.

In any case I tell people that the village has a toilet, give them instructions to find it, and tell them lunch will be ready when they return. I pass around the chemical hand-cleaner to those that remain. When did we start using this stuff? I heard tell that its completely useless at killing germs, but people seem to be mollified by its use.

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Lunch is the usual combination of French bread, cheeses and sausages with some salad vegetables thrown in. We make an effort to make it look respectable and though we, Paul and I, are used to eating this kind of stuff, the clients are excited and compare it favourably to what you would expect at a picnic on the other side of the water. It’s a small thing to introduce local cheeses and some things not normally found on the dinner table at home. The wine normally goes down well too, whether we have something from down the valley, say a Bergerac, or something from the Lot, a Cahors perhaps.

A pleasant lunch makes everyone relax and get to know each other better. Remember it’s still the first day on the river. Paul has been up to see Isobel at Castel Merle. This is a prehistory shelter site on the banks of the Vézère River between here, Sergeac, and St. Leon. We’ve visited it many times and it provides an interesting introduction to the caves of the Vézère. This river is famous for having been a centre for human habitation for tens of thousands of years. We will visit other caves in the area but this local shelter gives a more intimate perspective.

Paul has said that it would be a good time to go the shelter now after lunch rather than later after we finished our paddle. We can

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go now, take our time, and finish off the paddle later. It’s little more than forty minutes on the river from here anyway. Everyone agrees with this and after tidying away the picnic stuff everyone, except me, bundles into the van for the five minute drive to the site. Sometimes we walk from here, but Isobel wants to fit us in now. I’m staying behind to look after the boats and mind my own business. I might have a snooze. I might take some photographs. I might have a walk into the village.

I do all three, and read my book for a bit as well. They spend hours up at the shelter which gives me ages to mess around here. Sergeac is the tiniest of villages. I walk up the lane and walk the circle of tiny lanes that comprise the village. As usual the church in the village is huge. Unusually though it is open and I step into the coolness inside. It is surprisingly plain. Some of these local churches are decorated very extravagantly, but this one is on the plain side. I do wonder why the churches are so huge though. Was is a function of the size of the congregation or something to do with the largesse of the local benefactor? And so many

churches. The country must have been overrun with country priests, or vicars or parsons. Not now though. These country

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churches are now lucky to have one priest between the six of them, and lucky to have a service more than once a month.

I’m surprised that the municipal authorities have stumped up the cash to build some public toilets here. This village is well off the tourist map. It’s almost off the map and the road that reaches here is a no-through one. Somebody has some money somewhere because Thonac, the village on the other side of the river, has also seen some improvements. All the footpaths and roads were tidied up only a year ago. A cynic would perhaps suggest that the EU is wasting money as usual.

On the other side of the village I step into the a museum built into a small house. This is the museum put together by the Grandfather of Isobel who is the 4th Generation of the family to be managing the Castel Merle shelter. It was discovered by her great-grandfather. This tiny museum has a rather dusty collection of arrow heads and flint tools. Many of them were found here, though the best examples have gone to the National Museum of Prehistory at Les Eyzies. In addition it seems that he has traded other stone tools from around the world for the sake of comparison. You really have to be into pre-history to enjoy this place. Outside is a table strewn underneath with chipped bits of flint. This is where he practices making his own stone tools: chipping away with a leather sheet in his lap.

Of more interest to me is a little alcove where he keeps a motley collection of birds nests. He has never told me how he acquired these. Whether he collected them himself or perhaps whether he collected them as an itinerant schoolboy. This is what I think. I imagine too that the little scoundrel collected birds eggs but these

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perhaps are a little bit too sensitive to put on show. He’s about the same age as my own father. He too collected birds eggs as a child in the 30’s. I did too in the 50’s.

Back at the boats I wander down to the river bank to see what’s going on. A few damselflies are about so I get my camera out and attach a macro lens. With a little bit of patience and care I manage to photograph both the female and male of the Western Demoiselle. They are sexually dimorphic; e.g. the sexes look different. The male is metallic blue with wings which are clear with a broad black band near the tip. The females are metallic green with golden coloured wings. Both handsome. The males seem to be more active as they fly about whilst the females seem to stay more tucked into the vegetation.

I’m dozing at the picnic table when the rabble return. They are genuinely pleased by what they have seen at the Shelter. I learn that this year Professor White, from New York University, together with his research students and other academics have dated the oldest known painted surface in Europe. It’s been dated at 37,000 years old. People, both Neanderthal people and Cro-Magnon people (us) have been living in this river valley for that long. They also enjoyed the spear throwing that Isobel shows them. Spear throwing with that bone implement which makes the flight harder and longer. I can’t remember what it’s called.

Anyway after everybody settles down I get to the boats and untie them one at a time and get them going again on the water. It’s a tricky start as the water is flowing quite fast here, but soon every one is on there way. We pass the bend where Castel Merle is and can see the small stream trickling into the Vézère. We can see

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nothing of the site. Next up is an opportunity to paddle down the side of an island. Very often this is too shallow to do but today the narrow side of the island provides a speckled and sunlight channel through to the other side. We only disturb a few Mallards during our passage.

After that we pass the third of the old locks before coming upon our third Château of the day. This is the Château Clerans at St. Leon-sur-Vézère. Again not much information is available about it. It’s 15th and 16th century and it’s privately owned and so cannot be visited. You can get a good view from the river as you get parallel to it but both before and after it is obscured by trees. It’s not that large, merely a single square building with two towers, one of which is strangely flattened off.

Shortly after that the village comes into view with the Weeping Willows and the picnic tables where we had lunch yesterday. A few people are here today too and a small child is throwing a stick

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for a white dog. We slip by the church, admire the cliffs on the other bank where we have seen children jumping before, and then pass under the Eiffel bridge.

Paul is there at the take-out to help catch the canoes and get everyone out of the water safely. Soon we are dragging the boats up the bank, putting our paddles and lifejackets away and flipping out boats over so that we can use them tomorrow without waiting for Philippe to be around. We’ll need an early start tomorrow. So what shall we do now? Everyone votes for a stroll back across the bridge to the cafe in the village for an ice-cream or a beer. The sun is shining. Everyone is in a good mood. The day has been interesting and fun. Not too much and just enough.

Half an hour later we hop into the van and drive up to the Relais. It’s again time for me and Paul to relax, But maybe a swim in the pool first, and may be another beer too.

That evening we drive back out to Sergeac to the small Auberge de Castel Merle. It’s located right above the shelter we visited earlier in the day. It’s a strange place really. A cross between a gite and a hotel, but we’ve eaten here before and usually come back once or twice a season. The host, Chris, can be a bit weird sometimes and wont accept bookings if he’s not in the mood. To tell the truth the food isn’t that good. It used to be I’m told but the guy doesn’t seem to put much effort in. We come here really because they have an amazing outside terrace with tables that overlook the river from on high. In one direction you can follow the river past Sergeac itself and in the other you can see the river as it flows towards St. Leon. All around you can see the wooded valley of the Vézère. As the sun goes down it can be spectacular.

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We settle down with some aperitifs: It’s time to taste the local Vin Noix or perhaps a Chataigne. These are made by flavouring red wine with walnuts and chestnuts respectively. The recipes include a dash of Eau de Vie too just to up the alcohol content a little. The menu here includes Wild Boar Stew and this is often a popular choice, but the classic Confit de Canard and Magret de Canard are available too. The confit is a duck leg slow roasted in duck fat and the magret is breast of duck, usually served quite pink. At this point on the trip we are not yet overloaded with duck. It wont be long though as duck will be available at almost every meal.

The meal goes down well with several pichets of wine and the talk turns to the plans for tomorrow. That’s easy. We will do some canoeing and we will visit some sights along the ‘Valley of Man’. We will see how this river has been occupied by man for 40,000 years.

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Chapter 3: To The Cave

In which we step underground to see some wall paintings.

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The routine for the morning is much the same as yesterday. It will be much the same everyday! Today however we have to re-load the van with our luggage as we will be moving downstream to stay in Les Eyzies tonight. I explain to everyone that they have to be careful to keep the stuff they need for today separate. That includes the dry-bag to take on the canoe and any extra clothes they may need during the day. We will rendezvous with Paul and the Van at lunchtime and at the end of the days paddling. Just keep what you need to hand and not packed away.

In addition we have told the guests that we want to make as early a start on the river as we can. We have an appointment at the Font de Gaume cave this afternoon and it cannot be changed or re-arranged. The cave only accepts 160 visitors a day in small groups. I’d like to be on the water by 9.30. Everyone is OK with that.

So everything is loaded, including all our picnic gear, and we say goodbye to Roland and the Relais and drive down to Philipes place by the river in St. Leon. It’s too early for him to be there but we have previously arranged that it’s OK for us to fish out our own paddles and lifejackets and use the canoes that we left here yesterday.

Paul and I get everyone in the water and have a little bit of fun by trying to teach them how to ferry across the river by paddling upstream at an angle in such a way that the stern paddler keeps the angle (and doesn’t allow the boat to spin around) whilst the bow paddler paddles just enough so that the canoe neither drifts downstream or pushes upstream. In this way the canoe glides sideways across the river at which point you let the bow swing

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around to point downstream and you continue on your way on the far side of the river. This is a handy technique for crossing a river. We do it here because the left side of the river downstream from where we put in is very shallow and we need to be on the right side of the stream to get the deeper water and to avoid running aground. Everyone seems to manage the ferry fairly well and soon I’m the last on the water and I’m waving farewell to Paul and paddling off to catch everyone else up.

We are obviously the first people on the river today. This is good as it means we have every chance of seeing some wildlife. In particular we may see some mammals. Perhaps otters, or more probably nutria. They are tricky to see and you have to keep your eyes open and peer into the river banks and underneath the trees and bushes along the banks. Nutrias are seen more often; They keep swimming when spotted and seem averse to diving. Otters on the other hand will dive when they know they’ve been seen. In addition Nutrias have just one protuberance above the water, whilst an otter’s head can be see separately from its rear end!

After a short while the stream splits in two around an island. The river is high enough at the moment to contemplate going either side. On the left the river runs faster, but can lead you under some overhanging trees, so you’ll have to be careful to avoid them. The right side is obscured by the trees growing on the island and seems to be narrower. I like to encourage people to make their own decisions in places like this and so suggest that I’ll go left but why don’t they try the right side.

Some follow me but I’m pleased to see that one couple are at least tying the right side. However I see that they change tack

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halfway down after the smaller island in front on the main island and cut through back to the left. When I’m downstream of the island I turn around in an eddy and wait for everyone to come through. I can see why they changed their mind as the right side is blocked by a fallen tree. That would have made a tricky obstacle to get past and could be dangerous. The tree has fallen since I was last here. I’ll have to try to remember in case it’s still here the next time.

The river bends around some large turns as it progresses down the valley and we have chances to look at the ferns growing in some undercuts in the cliffs. We pass the Paradise Camping ground and wave to a lone fisherman and a woman walking a dog. In a short while we come to a much larger undercut on the left where the river veers sharply right. I know that we have almost reached the famous La Roque Saint Christophe. First though we explore the undercut by going right underneath it. It’s almost a cave under there and covered in a roof of dripping vegetation. It seems to be mostly ferns, mosses and liverworts. They are incredibly green, but it’s dark under here and difficult to get a photograph, particularly as you have to keep the canoe from drifting too.

Beyond the under-cliff is a rough place for landing and disembarking. Roque Saint Christophe is an interesting place and it has a museum too but as usual with places of interest along the river they have made no provision for visitors arriving by canoe. I arrive first, jump out and drag my boat over the sharp rocks to a safe place. I then help the others. It’s difficult as the rocks are sharp and slippery and it gets deep very quickly. Fortunately I help everyone out of the boats with no mishaps. Perhaps someone gets stung by the Stinging Nettles which are always prevalent

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here. I have forgotten to remind people. Now they know what it looks like. I assure them the tickling sensation with pass in a few moments. They are reassured that we have no Poison Ivy in Europe. I have to use a rope to tie the boats together as there is no room to pull all the boats onto the rocks. It looks a bit untidy.

Clambering up the muddy trail we suddenly find ourselves at the cafe by the parking for the museum. This cheers everyone up. I tell them where to go to get to the museum and the entrance to the ledges and we agree that an hour for the visit should suffice. Almost everyone decides to have a coffee first. As usual I wont be going with them. I’ve obviously been to each of these places many times before. We don’t often get to stop over at this one as if we have an earlier booking at Font de Gaume we don’t have the time. In that case we have to make do with observing it from the canoes as we pass. Today though we do and I will have a pleasant hour minding my own business and taking a few photographs.

Let me describe what La Roque Saint Christophe is. It’s a cliff, and in this cliff are about seven grooves cut by the river exactly like the under cliffs we’ve seen on the river today but obviously cut thousands, if not millions, of years ago when the river was running at a different level. Or the land has moved up since the time they were cut. These grooves at one time would have had extensive ledges reaching out into the air. They’ve since fallen but a substantial ledge remains on these levels nonetheless. These undercuts have been used for human habitation for at least 25,000 years. In the cliffs is the evidence of more than 100 shelters. The cliffs were used for habitation until the Middle Ages when I presume the security provided by defending the cliffs was useful when times got tough. I expect it was easier to live down in

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the valley during easy times. I’ve heard rumours that the cliffs and shelters were also used during the Second World War by resistance fighters. This I think is a bit dubious. It’s a well known site and I’m sure the valley is littered with a lot more remote and hidden caves and shelters which they could have used. It’s a thought though.

Of course because it’s been in continuous use for so long the evidence of Neanderthal or ancient Cro-Magnon use has long been obliterated. That’s probably why today the cliffs and shelters have been preserved and, lets be honest, modelled, to reflect how the place would have been used four or five hundred years ago. The museum reflects that. I don’t think it’s any the worse for that and I think its well worth a look around for an hour or so. They have modelled some of the medieval machinery that may have been used but I’m surprised that they have not made more use of the post holes. Their are hundreds of square holes cut into the cliffs above the ledges which were used to support wooden beams which in turn supported leathers or other materials to provide additional shelter. I think they could make more use of these but possibly they are not allowed to do so.

Here’s another description.

Steps lead up to the original entrance of the fortress which was the only entrance into the town and therefore was an integral part of the town's defence system. The entrance is narrow and has a look out post from which rocks etc could be thrown down at invaders. It also had a strong door and a drawbridge to further prevent attack.

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The next section of the cave shows clearly how the caves were used as the basis for the buildings in the town. Holes were hacked into the rock to support beams which were then used to construct ceilings and roofs. The fronts of the houses were built in the traditional half-timbered style common in medieval times. Roofs were covered in flat stones called lauze. The cave walls have evidence of holes hacked out of the rock and used as storage areas and stone 'hooks' were created which had rope threaded through them to tether animals.

The visit continues through 20 clearly marked parts of the town highl ight ing di fferent areas such as the cowshed, the slaughterhouse and next to it the smokehouse for preserving the meat, the church, the forge, etc.

One section is a massive long area where the rock above overhangs a 275 meter long area and this natural shelter was the main part of the town. This is the biggest natural shelter in Europe and really is extraordinary. From here you can see below two of the other terraces which were also used for buildings. At its peak the town held hundreds of houses and about a thousand people.

Further along the Roque St Christophe various machines of construction have been built as replicas of the winches, scaffolding, cranes and capstan that would have been used in medieval times for building the town. Whilst I was visiting a guide was demonstrating, with the help of a number of willing volunteers, the use of the capstan to pull heavy loads. Apparently using this 10 people could drag loads of one to two tons!

Another key sight is the 'great staircase'. This is hewn out of the stone and is one of the largest monolithic staircases in Europe. This staircase leads to the fifth and highest terrace and evidence of medieval war machines suggests this terrace was a key part of the town's defences. From here rocks and stones were thrown down at enemies invading from below. Next to the staircase there is a room cut out from the rock that was used by the town's

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warriors for shelter. Higher up there is another smaller hollow which was a lookout point.

An hour has past now and the guests return from the ledges back to the boats. I start work untying them and getting everyone back on the water. It’s irritating how difficult this is in this spot. It would be great if they built a proper dock here. Which reminds me that that the medieval city did have a dock on the river and a castle overlooking it to protect it. Where is that now?

So we are off spinning on the river and almost immediately I slip my canoe into a narrow gap between the cliff and a huge fallen boulder. I discovered this little passageway several years ago but it always amuses me to go around it. There is only just enough room for a canoe and you have to do a sharp turn to the right inside. Sometime I disappear from view by trying to nip in here unheeded but today I’m followed through.

It’s then time to appreciate the view of La Roque Saint Christophe from the river by paddling over to the right bank. You have to do this as they have thoughtlessly allowed the trees on the left bank to grow to maturity. At one time their was a small dock here so that canoeists could get out and look at the ledges. It’s too far to walk to the museum entrance from here though and the wooden ramp down to the water is now overgrown and unusable. They could cut the trees though to give a better view.

We have to bit a bit careful now though as the river speeds up as we get to the Moustier bridge. I advise that we should take the rightmost arch and have some fun as we rock through the waves right under the bridge and then have to turn sharp to avoid an overhanging branch. The river is skipping along on this section and we swing from one side of the river to another to follow the current and avoid the shallows. I encourage everyone to move over to the right on the coming stretch and we might just be able

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to get a glimpse of Reignac. This is another medieval cliff dwelling in the Vézère Valley. As usual their is no provision for stopping our canoes at a convenient access point and, as usual again, you can’t really see much because of the trees along the river bank. You can just get a glimpse. Which I suppose does make it more enticing. However I have never once visited this site. When you pass it on the road it looks a bit touristy and I think they’ve dressed it up to appear more than it is.

I’m probably wrong though as this is what wiki has to say.

Maison Forte de Reignac is perched above the Vézère River Valley hugging the rock face. In an area well-known for prehistoric cave art, stands one of the most distinctive castles in France.

In French, this type of castle is known as a Château falaise, or cliff castle. The 14th-century Maison Forte de Reignac was constructed in a grotto that holds evidence of more than 20,000 years of human habitation. Additional construction occurred in the 16th century, but little has changed since then. Originally built as a secure defensible fortification from which the lord of the manor could watch over his property and protect it from raiders, the castle now sits quietly above the river valley offering grand views and a unique experience.

As one approaches the castle, it appears to be no bigger than a large house set in front of the cliff. Upon entering, it becomes apparent there is more to the castle than one would imagine. Underground vaults hold large rooms with period furniture. The great room contains a large fireplace and would be the place to entertain guests. The bedrooms of the lord and the lady are filled with furniture, tapestries, and paintings of the type that would have adorned these rooms over the centuries. The castle also has a chapel, a large armoury with typical weapons and armour on display, and it even has a small underground prison cell.

A stairway tucked deep inside the cliff provides access to more rooms perched high up on the cliff. This level offers a great view

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of the valley and is also home to the alchemist's roost. Up here, the alchemist could conduct experiments away from the daily activities in the rooms below. This lofty perch also offered sentries a place to scan the countryside for danger and castle guards an excellent position from which to defend the castle.

A small museum in the castle displays prehistoric artefacts that were collected on the property over the years. A curio cabinet displays a hodgepodge of curiosities collected by explorers during the 16th and 17th centuries. Among the curiosities are a large stuffed bear and alligator, an ostrich egg, a variety of preserved fish, and many objects that these explorers would have found exotic.

Tucked into a side room on the ground floor is a fascinating but macabre exhibit that has recently been installed. This room contains instruments of torture that have been used by humankind throughout the centuries. The aim of this exhibit is to make the public aware of the horrible methods of torture that people have devised and the cruelties that people have carried out. It aims to remind us that these cruelties are still being carried out in parts of the world today.

From the river it does look impressive. I should pay a visit one day.

In a little while the Madeleine bridge is reached and just beyond it is the Tursac rest-area where we will have our lunch. The approach to the access ramp is a bit tricky as the river is flowing fast on the right and is shallow on the left which is the side we want to be, The trick is to go down the right and then swing in by doing a ferry to get to the left side. The difficulty is attempting to do this without being swept downstream. I go first in an attempt to show how it should be done and so that I can beach my boat and then be prepared to catch anyone who is in danger of being swept past. Today everybody makes the turn with no problems and I just have to help some get out the canoes and then slide the

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boats so they are tidy. I don’t like to leave the ramp blocked just in case anyone else comes down the river and wants to use the same picnic spot.

This picnic spot is quite new anyway. It’s been extensively landscaped and fitted with several huge picnic tables and a toilet block is here too. It’s not a good sign though that the toilets are not looked after and in their current state are unusable. A pee in the bushes it is then.

Paul is already here and has done most of the work in setting up the picnic. All we have to do is scrub our hands with that chemical stuff and pour the wine and everyone can get started. The mood is good, the sun is shining and we are in good time to make our rendezvous in Les Eyzies. Paul has shot down to the Font de Gaume office and picked up our tickets already. We are all set and we can relax now and tuck into the usual cheese and sausage and bread and crudités and fruit. And more wine.

So it’s back to the boats and onto the next thing. The launch is as tricky as the arrival but everyone gets away. It’s not possible to see from the river but we are on a huge meander. If we weren’t facing cliffs overgrown with a forest we could clamber over here, drag the boats a hundred yards, Fitzcarraldo style, and save ourselves an hours paddling. Who would want to do that?

After passing some more cliffs, with an undercut as usual we spin the boats around to glimpse some farm buildings built on top of the cliff. Unsurprisingly underneath it we can see some more shelters. Or are they? They seem to be man-made holes cut into the cliffs and the square-cut holes for poles are also apparent. Some of them even have old bits of wood still attached. However the caves don’t seem to have any means of access. They are just poised in the middle of the cliff. It doesn’t matter we spin the boats around and drift downstream.

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After a further couple of bends we come to something more substantial. A Chapel hugging the cliff. If you look closer you can

also see the remains of a castle on the cliff above it and the ubiquitous cliff shelters spread along the cliff either side. This is the famous site of La Madeleine.

First the rock shelters:

At the end of 1863, Edouard Lartet, a palaeontologist, and his friend and benefactor Henry Christy discovered the shelter of La Madeleine by the side of the Vézère River. They were returning from investigating Le Moustier a few kilometres away, and noticed a large shelter on the right bank of the river. At this time there was no bridge, and they stopped a passing boat for assistance in crossing the river. A search was carried out with shovels and spades, and they began to realise the importance of the site. Each level revealed the presence of humankind: burins, flint blades, spear points. Numerous unrecognised objects turned up, made from unknown bones: harpoons, spears, needles, and

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numerous artefacts made from reindeer antlers. They decided to leave a serious investigation until spring.

The next spring, they continued their research. In May 1864 workers discovered five fragments of an ivory plate, which once reassembled, revealed an exceptional engraving of a mammoth. The accuracy of the engraving confirmed without doubt that the artist had observed the living creature and reproduced it in accurate detail: wooly coat, tusks, and hump were all faithfully recorded. The rear end of the animal was also clearly defined.

In 1868 Gabriel de Martillet established a new timescale for the prehistoric centuries, and La Madelaine became the type site for "Magdalenian" times.

The site was also studied by Paul Girod and Elie Massenet, as well as numerous amateur investigators. Denis Peyrony restarted the research in 1911, and refined knowledge of the site. In 1926 the skeleton of a three year old child was discovered, with exquisite shell jewellery, dating from the end of the Magdalenian period.

Second the castle: I can find no information about this. I’ve heard claims that the Romans built a castle here and that further constructions were made in the Middle Ages. Nothing else.

Third, the Chapel: Again I can find no reliable information but I’ve been told that the chapel was built in the 11thC and that King Richard the First of England (Richard the Lionheart) came to this chapel on his way to the crusades for a blessing. This seems

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unlikely he lived further south in France and spent a mere seven months of his ten year reign in England. He didn’t even speak English, but was fluent in Langue d’Oil and Langue d’Oc.

After spending some time looking at the Chapel here and taking some photographs we spin away and continue downstream. Shortly afterwards we have to go either side of an island, again choosing the faster side or the hidden side. The island is small at the moment but on some trips the gravel bar in front of it is quite large. In the old days this is where we used to have lunch. We’d pull over and use three boats to form a picnic table. Two canoes would be placed parallel to on another and then the third canoe would be placed on top, upside down and at right angles. With a tablecloth thrown on top it works quite well. As long as it’s level, and no-one leans on it. From time to time we had to move a herd of cows off the island first as in the heat of summer they come down from the field opposite to cool off. They moan too when they are moved.

It’s been a long day on the river now and the pressure is rising as we have to make our rendezvous in Les Eyzies. This last hour can be tiring, especially on a hot afternoon. The next way marker is the railway bridge. I think this line comes down from Perigeaux to Les Eyzies. You don’t see trains very often. I did catch a train from Les Eyzies to Cahors once when our van was too small for all of us (for a long ride anyway). I had to change somewhere and wait for an hour or so. I wish I could remember where that was as I spent the time wandering around a pleasant market. At one time I heard that services had been stopped on the weekend, but they have now been restored and I’ve seem some new rolling-stock on the line too.

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Soon after that the river swings a long left-hand corner. I smooch over to the left bank to see if I can spot any horses in the paddock there. Sometimes they are gathered under the trees to keep cool. The interesting thing about these horse is that some of them are spotted. It’s not often you see spotted horses and they remind me of the painted horses in the caves at Peche Merle. We’ll see those next week when we are down on the Célé River. Which reminds me why are spotted horses called painted horses? And Pinto? And another thing why don’t horses have ordinary colours? A horse can’t be brown, or white or black? A mystery.

Then as we swing around this corner we can see huge cliffs above us on the right hand side. Again you can see many grooves cut into the cliffs and much evidence of shelter living. You can see too that not so many years ago you could visit these levels but the stairways are rusting now and blocked off with barbed-wire. I imagine the cliffs have become unsafe and so we’ll just have to content ourselves with looking at them.

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Before long we are passing another couple of islands and then coming under the road bridge at the edge of town, passing the Trois Drapeaux cafe on the right and then swinging into the ramp where we are to disembark. Paul is here to help get everyone out of the boats and then to drag the boats up onto the grassy bank and leave them in a tidy pile for Philippe to collect later. We get ourselves together and load our stuff in the van before changing out of wet shoes and damp shorts into something warmer that we shall need for the cave. We’ve just got time to use the toilets and have a quick beer at the cafe.

And so it is that we roll up at Font de Gaume. Surprisingly it’s just a green shack besides the road. Inside you have a small shop selling books and other paraphernalia depicting the cave paintings. It doesn’t seem much for a world renowned site. From the shop a concrete path leads up the side of the hill until ten minutes later you arrive at the cave gates. No cameras and no bags are allowed inside. Woe betide anyone who rubs against the walls.

Here is a description.

The paintings were discovered by Denis Peyrony, a local schoolmaster, on 12 September 1901. The cave had been known to the general public before this, but the significance of the paintings had not been recognised. Four days previously Peyrony had visited the cave at Les Combarelles, a short distance away, with the archaeologist Henri Breuil, where he saw its prehistoric engravings. The paintings in the cave at Font-de-Gaume were the first to be discovered in the Périgord province.[2]

Prehistoric people living in the Dordogne Valley first settled in the mouth of Font-de-Gaume around 25,000  BC. The cave mouth was inhabited at least sporadically for the next several thousand

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years. However, after the original prehistoric inhabitants left, the cave was forgotten until the nineteenth century when local people again began to visit the cave. The paintings date from around 17000  BC, during the Magdalénien period. Many of the cave's paintings have been discovered in recent decades. The cave's most famous painting, a frieze of five bison was discovered accidentally in 1966 while scientists were cleaning the cave.

To date, 230  figures have been recorded in the cave, and it is thought that more are still to be revealed.[2] Font de Gaume holds over 200  polychrome paintings and is considered the best example of polychrome painting other than Lascaux, which is now closed to the public. The paintings in Font-de-Gaume include depictions of more than 80  bison, approximately 40  horse depictions, and more than 20 mammoth depictions.

We go into the cave as small group of about a dozen, lead by a guide who is ostensibly going to speak English. He doesn’t much and in the narrow passageways it’s quite difficult to see what he is referring too. It’s dingy inside. Light plays havoc with the paintings and he only has a small red beamed pointer to indicate the paintings. The cave is restricted to a limited number of small groups per day. A total of 160 people per day is all that is allowed. I’ve heard that this will soon be reduced to 70 or so. I expect one day soon the cave will be closed to the public. Perhaps they will make a replica as at Lascaux.

Once you get used to the dim light and the way the paintings are formed, using the rock itself to form features of the animals, it becomes easier to appreciate the beauty of them. It’s difficult not to remain sceptical of some of the fancy assumptions made about the people who painted them though and why.

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Moist people are just stunned to see such work from ages past.

After our short visit we arrive back at the shed and peruse the merchandise. I bought a fridge magnet once. I don’t know what that is supposed to mean.

We hop back in the van and drive to the hotel in Les Eyzies. It’s right in the middle of the small town and we can settle down for a quiet evening. Jerome and Jerome are there to meet us. One of the Jerome's is an owner and the other just works there. I always like the happy way they greet us and help us get everyone to their rooms. Instead of eating altogether tonight the holiday ‘instructions’ inform them that they are ‘on their own’. It seems a bit cruel, but I suppose the idea is to give them a break from each

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other and regain some space. Paul and I give them an idea of the different places to eat in town. The cheap ones, the expensive one and the nice ones. We shall eat in the Cafe de Maire across the street. It’s cheap and cheerful and the food is good. Pave de Canard usually for me. A duck steak! I’ve been to this place many times and one of the reasons is it has a huge TV where we have often watched football, or more often, the Tour de France.

Before that however we slope off to our room for a lie down. It’s my turn to do the picnic dishes. I do this in the bath! Usually we make use of the kitchen facilities of wherever we are staying to do the washing-up but the kitchen staff at this hotel are a bit posh and seem reluctant to allow us to use the kitchen. The bath it is then. Fortunately the bathroom is large enough and the dishes are soon done and laying on a towel to drain off.

After a nap we drag ourselves out to the cafe to get some dinner. Nothing on the TV tonight so we sit out on the terrace. Sometimes we are joined by other guests but usually they go to one of the swankier places for a more private dinner. It’s a relaxing evening for us.

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Chapter 4: To The Dordogne

In which we change rivers and explore some islands

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At breakfast the next day we all reconvene. Today is a day of two halves; first we will drive to Sarlat and visit the market, and then, in the afternoon we will begin the first of three days canoeing down the Dordogne.

Before we leave however their is just time for a flying visit to the National Prehistory Museum here in Les Eyzies. When I first visited this museum many years ago I thought it was a bit fusty and dry. Old-fashioned essentially. Just how many arrowheads can one look at? These days I’ve heard that the experience is a bit more dynamic. It’s still all in French, however.

A new museum has open in town called the Pole something or other. It’s a fantastic new white, aluminium and glass build. It doesn’t have much for the casual viewer. A few short films and an interactive map of the Vézère Valley indicating all the Neanderthal and Cro-Magnon sites. However the facility is designed more as a research centre. There is an extensive library and bookshop as well as a bank of computers for anyone to use for research purposes. These computers have access to thousands of documents about prehistory and a huge array of image and video materials too. Some of these include full length films and television programmes. You can access the internet too which is handy for to catch up on some emails!

Anyway so the bags are packed and loaded into the van and we are off to Sarlat. A mere twenty minute drive. We drive up the hill in Sarlat and try to find a place in the parking just beyond the cemetery. The place is heaving with cars and camper-vans parked everywhere. A little note about the cemetery though. As is usual in this part of France the graves are raised sarcophagi, presumably

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used to bury the remains of a sequence of family members. The strange here though is that some of them are covered in small greenhouses. Nobody has any idea about this. Are they locked? Further investigation is required.

After parking Paul and I accompany the guests down to the market. The idea is to lead the way so they can make their own way back to the van later. They can wander around the market themselves. We have agreed to reconvene at 1pm. On the way down we pass a row of Red Cherries. I mean an ornamental cherry tree with red leaves. One year we picked a bag of cherries from these and Paul got himself sick by eating them. Someone later told us ‘Never eat fruit from a red leafed tree’. This can’t be true. I have a red leafed hazel nut tree at home and the nuts are fine.

In town we reach the beginning of the market close to the Cenotaph. Usually I have to explain what a cenotaph is. Apparently it’s a monument to the dead where the bodies are unrecovered or buried elsewhere. Of course in Europe they have been built in most villages and towns to list the fallen in the two World Wars. At least that is the case in Belgium, France and Great Britain. In Germany? I don’t know. May be the Cenotaph is not big enough to remember as the place to turn up the hill top get back to the car pack. May be the huge frying pans of the stall selling paella is a better sign. In any case we pack them off with brief instructions of how the land lies in the market and where to find the old town. I suggest they loop around the market twice if they are planning to buy anything to compare prices. I also suggest they might want to buy something to add to our picnic on the river tomorrow. I’m hoping that we don’t get a selection of twenty of so dried sausages and three kilos of cheese.

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Paul and I have some of our own errands to run and we skip through to the usual sections of the market and get a few things for the picnic tomorrow. Sometimes I run around the old town and take pictures. It can be difficult with so many people around but it does always seem possible to find new nook and crannies in the back streets that you’ve never seen before. It’s alway a pleasure to stroll through the cathedral too. Sometimes the light streaming through the stained glass windows cast beautiful colours on the stone walls and floors inside. Sometimes a choir is rehearsing.

The market itself can often be a bit overpowering. It can be cram packed and heaving with people. Mostly English by the number of voices I hear. Personally I think its over-hyped and overpriced and a bit of a tourist trap. I think it would be more pleasant to come here on a non-market day and appreciate the town on a more normal day. How normal it is though is difficult to say. Too many cafes and restaurants. Too many ‘Art’ galleries and shop selling knickknacks and other shops selling ‘local’ produce. It’s a relief to be only spending a couple of hours here.

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Eventually Paul and I gravitate to a local cafe run by a Dutch woman who makes a great hamburger and fries. It makes a change from the regional cuisine forced on us at all the restaurants in the area. We sit down in a quiet courtyard and watch the hustle and bustle of market life beyond the gateway. In this quiet refuge we can enjoy our lunch before we have to get back on duty.

Rushing back to the van to get there on time we are pleased to see that everyone else has made it. No need to hang around and no need to send a search party out! Jumping in the van we start our short, half-an-hour drive to the river.

We arrive at the river bank at Cazoules where we rendezvous with Eric our canoe-outfitter. He arrives with our canoes, paddles and lifejackets and we help unload them and get them ready for our paddle.

Having got ourselves ready we slip the boats into the wide river, and after a brief review of the safety procedures, we begin our long paddle down to Montfort. The river runs at quite a clip and we are soon on our way. I’ve reminded everyone that the Dordogne is a much larger river than the Vézère and is very wide in places, runs quite quickly in some places and has many islands to navigate along the way. I’ve explained that it is not always necessary for our whole flotilla to follow on another and if some want to go one side of an island, and some the other, this is fine. Usually the narrow side is the more interesting as this is where the wildlife hangs out; on the other had the wider side is usually swifter and more fun if you are looking for speed!

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One particular concern on the Dordogne is what are called ‘strainers’; that is fallen trees, or overarching bank-side trees where the water makes its way through the branches and roots, but where a canoe can get trapped. We must give these a wide berth. I remind them that should they find themselves in the water and approaching one of these then they should turn around and face them and attempt to climb out onto the branches. Normally if you are in the water you should go feet first, on your back, so you can use your feet to push off rocks. I remind them too that you should allow the canoe to float in front of you so that you don’t become squashed between the canoe and a hard place. Luckily capsizing doesn’t happen very often.

One final point to remind them is that of course, if they are in front on the river, they have to make their own decisions about which way to go when a choice becomes apparent. Remember cutting the inside of a bend is not always wise as you can run aground. Besides the river runs faster on the outside of a bend. Just keep away from the overhanging trees on the bank. Also, if you are in front, look back from time to time and if you haven’t seen anyone for a while then slow down or wait. Wait where you are sure you are not opposite an island or wait at the downstream end of an island so that we don’t go sailing past you!

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Almost immediately we come across an island where a choice has to be made. At this point I often tease everyone by pretending to be heading one way and then change my mind and quickly change course. Depending on the current this may need some work and if others are trying to follow me they may not be able to change tack in time. It’s good to be out on your own sometimes. Depending on the water levels, this island also has smaller channels running through tall reeds, which I’ve attempted to paddle through on occasion. It hasn’t always worked and I’ve run aground before and had to drag my canoe out. So the others have the last laugh.

When the canoes emerge from beyond this island then we can be very far apart. To far apart to even shout at one another. A wave will have to do.

Before long we pass under an old railway bridge and approach another, very long and thin island. The branch on river left (that is, on the left when facing downstream), looks fast and narrow, with a few riffles, but this is the way I usually prefer, as you get a fast ride and you feel cosy and enclosed along the narrow stream. The outside is faster and wider though. If we go separate ways here then we may not see each other for twenty minutes.

Shortly after that the river takes a big left turn and we have no choice but to take the outside lane as the inner route has become overgrown with new willows and silted up. Then the river straightens for a while before an entrance to a lagoon open up on the left. It can be interesting to glide into here as very often you can see swans take advantage of the calm waters. Usually some

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dead bones of trees are blocking the way so you have to steer carefully in the slow water. You have to come back out the same way too as their is no through passage.

After that, another island, and then a sharp turn right where sometimes, depending on the water levels it’s possible to slip into a narrow channel on the right. This then leads towards the bridge that marks St. Julien where you can see campsites on both banks. Depending on the season we are here we may see Water Crowfoot growing profusely in the river where it is slowing down. Sometimes it can blanket the river from bank to bank and it is difficult to paddle through. We stop here for a break on river left, so if you’ve taken the right side of the small island here you will have to cross back to the left smartly just before the bridge. Not always easy if the weed is profuse. The Water Crowfoot, by the way, is a naturally occurring river weed here. It has a bright white flower, with a yellow centre and the flowers sometimes carpet the whole river. Very picturesque. It’s also very popular with damselflies and we will often observe the bright metallic blue bodies, with black-banded wings, of the Western Demoiselle (male). The females, also here, have green metallic bodies and golden wings. An example of sexual dimorphism.

If you slide you canoe into the weeds you can take a moment to watch the damselflies and observe their behaviour. The males may be defending females or territory and the females may be laying eggs (ova-depositing). We may also see them flying in tandem. Other damsels will also be around; the pale red Orange Featherlegs, which has blue eyes, the pale blue, Blue Featherlegs (the female is brown), and the White-legged Damselfly (also blue). We may also see the larger dragonflies cruising around such as the Pronged Clubtail, which is yellow and black with blue eyes, or

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the Small Pincertail, which is also yellow and black but has grey eyes. Both Damselflies and Dragonflies are predators and catch other small insects whilst flying.

At St. Julien we take a break. Sometime we have lunch here, if we haven’t already had lunch at Sarlat. After this we paddle a long straight stretch of the river, where if we look back we can see a Château poking through the trees. After a little while the river

narrows and start to flow a little fast again. As it turns left we can see a place where the right river bank is a wall of mud. This wall is dotted with small holes. This is where the Sand-Martins nest. However this has reminded me that up ahead is an obstacle to get past.

The underlying geology here has narrowed the river and it goes over some hard rocks which are angled in such a way as to cause a standing wave to form on the surface. As you approach you can see a wall of waves breaking in white horses. You can hear it too. The waves can sometimes be a three feet high and roll on for about thirty yards before they dissipate. If you take your canoe hard over to the left you can go around them. It’s more fun however to head straight for them and do a little bit of river

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surfing. The trick is to approach the waves at the highest point and keep your canoe at right angles to the wave, and paddle your way straight through them. You may get wet. Don’t change your mind or direction halfway through and keep paddling. It’s fun, and soon over. We’ve never had anyone tip over here though we did have someone once turn in the waves so the canoe was in the trough. They rocked a lot, but they didn’t fall out.

Once the excitement has died down we approach a close knit group of small islands where we can make various choices. I usually go for the narrower inside channels on the left where again you have to negotiate the collection of fallen trees brought here during the winter. This is also where a great number of ducks and swans hangout.

The river then swings right and then left where we cruise fairly tightly to the left bank looking for a narrow channel. Slipping into this channel we come across a small open beach on a promontory and we can pull up here for another break and a swim, if we are hot enough. The swimming is fun because the narrow channel has made the current faster and, because the faster water runs so narrowly you can easily swim into and out of it. The fast water halts abruptly where it runs into a slower stream coming in from the left. It’s a great place to take a break.

This is also the place where, infamously, two fellows in a canoe, on one of our trips, fell out. These guys were both called Jack, were both in their 70’s, and were both Irish-Americans from New York. They both always wore black clothes. On this day I came down the channel first in the fast water and then was careful as I turned to the right into the slower water. As I came down I noticed

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two girls sunbathing topless on the beach. I turned around in my canoe to watch the two Jacks as they came down. To my amusement they both swivelled their necks to look at the girls and the canoe ran quickly out of the fast water and into the slow. This had the effect of stopping the canoe very suddenly whilst the fast water behind swung the boat around and they both tipped out. I had to go back and drag the canoe ashore to empty it and get them both going again. They were slightly mad at each other for the mishap, but they both claimed, adamantly, that the half-naked girls had nothing to do with it.

When we get back into the canoes again after our break we take the right turn into the slower water with some care. If you then go over towards the left bank then you can examine the strange rock formations, and its associated plants, which are visible. The limestone has become heavily eroded both by the river and by water percolating through the rock from above. Limestone is porous, is mostly calcium carbonate and soluble to water and weak acids. For this reason it erodes easily. Most cave systems, for example, are through limestone bedrock. At this point on the river the limestone has been eroded such that sharp clefts have been cut into the rock. These have become overgrown with a variety of ferns and mosses, and sometimes some flowering plants too, such as bedstraws.

As we are passing these formations where little rivulets of water run down the cliffs and tree roots entwine themselves in and out of the rocks we come across a rope dangling from a tree above down to almost the surface of the river. Usually I just grab hold of the rope as I pass by and swing my canoe around. Once, just once, as a pair of my guests went underneath the rope, the gentleman at the back grabbed the rope and continued to climb

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it. His wife seemed quite unaware until he shouted when he had reached the top and she had paddled away. When she turned around in surprise he let go of the rope and fell into the water, and then subsequently swimming back to the canoe. He managed to get back in it too without tipping it over. I was quite impressed as it was quite a rope climb. It was a very hot day so I imagine the swim was refreshing.

Just after this the river passes under a suspension bridge which is notable in that the suspension cables are hidden in concrete boxes. As we pass under the bridge you can read a sign that says refreshments are available in the village. They are not. I fell for this sign once and disembarked to look for a cafe. Nothing is available; I’m guessing you’d have to walk to the village proper a mile or so further up the road. I wonder how long that sign has been there?

Almost straightaway we pass under an old railway bridge which has been converted into a rail trail for cyclists and pedestrians. There is then a long stretch of river which can be tiring if it is hot, or if the wind is against us. Usually it is the middle of the afternoon when we are here; probably the hottest part of the day with the sun beating down on us. With any luck we might just be able to grab a little bit of shade if we tuck ourselves into the left bank. Hanging your feet over the side from time to time can help too.

Eventually we reach a point where the river swings around to the right and on the inside of the bend is a beach, which can be very busy with families and children in July. We take the deeper water to the left and head towards to far bank where the water is

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running faster. Over here we can see that the limestone has been eroded in similar ways to what we have seen before. However some of the crevices cut into the rock are quite deep. In one of them, if the entrance is not snagged by a fallen tree, you can take your canoe right into a small cave. Depending on the water levels you can also get out of your canoe inside the cave. It’s a bit damp and smelly and covered with scratched graffiti, but it’s worth a look I think. The cave also has a window; a hole in the rock above the waterline.

Leaving the cave the river now enters a huge meander, called a ‘cingle’ in French. If we were to walk a kilometre here, dragging our canoe, we might save ourselves 8 kilometres of paddling. No-one has ever tried this. So we continue paddling down the river heading for another set of limestone cliffs ahead of us. I encourage people to slide over towards the right bank, because, if you look carefully, you will see the huge fairytale castle of Montfort appear between the trees. If you are on the left side you can’t see it because the bank-side trees are obscuring your view. We will now have to follow the full sweep of the meander before

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we eventually find ourselves below the castle. As we get to the cliffs at the apex of the bend it’s best to go right up to the cliff and get in the fast stream. The castle is looming dead ahead of us now, but we have to negotiate some islands first. Taking the inside route seems like the easiest, but it means losing sight of the castle. I’d take the outside water which is running faster and from here you can just drift and take photographs as the castle looms larger and larger. Opposite the castle on the left bank is

pebble beach, so we will pull up here for a break, and so we can look at the castle properly. A castle has been in this position for a thousand years. It has been built and destroyed at least three times and the present incarnation, in its slightly fey and whimsical style was built in the 19th century. It’s still impressive to look at though.

Back in our canoes we drift backwards down the river so that we can continue to see the castle as we leave it behind. We only have a short while to go now before our day on the river is done. We just have a string of three islands to get past. I usually like to take the inside track on the first two islands on the right side as

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they are narrower, shadier, and more fun. The river is running quite fast here so you have to keep away from the large trees overhanging the riverbank. After the second island the trick is to cross over to take the third island on the left side. This sometimes takes some work as you have to cross a channel of water trying to push you the other way.

If you are successful then you approach the last bit of fun today and a string of waves in front of you indicates that the water is speeding up even more. Ride these waves as before with a straight canoe at right angles to the waves, keep away from the cliff and watch out for any stray fallen trees in the water.By the time you’ve run these waves a grassy bank appears on the right side, often with people on the beach and children in the water. You might see a stack of bright yellow canoes parked above and you’ll see opposite this, on the other bank, a small restaurant. We've now reached our destination for the day and we take out on the right bank.

We need to unload everything from the canoes and take them up to the van which should be waiting above the beach on the lane. We’ll tuck our canoes away on the edge of the beach where we will find them, hopefully, tomorrow morning. We flip them over as well so they don’t fill with rain in the night! Usually they don’t. Often the only extras we get are slugs and spiders!

Once the van is loaded we can decide who is going to walk and who is going to ride. It’s a short ten minute walk to our hotel. A little bit up hill. For those that walk I take them through the camp site, past the cornfields, and then up through the Walnut Orchards and finally up a narrow pathway which brings you out next to the

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garden of the hotel and restaurant where much of the produce are grown.

When we stumble onto the terrace of the hotel, Thierry will hear us and find us and I can introduce our new host. We will then sit on the terrace under the shade of the Wisteria having a drink or two, before we find our rooms. This small hotel is a converted farm overlooking the valley. The flowers in the garden are always beautifully colourful. The hotel is in acres of walnut trees between the villages of Vitrac and Montfort. If you just walk out the front gate and down the little lane for five minutes you will come over a small ridge, and below you, is the Château de Montfort, the very same castle that we just canoed by. Sometimes, if you walk this way in the early morning, all you can see are the towers of the castle rising above the mist.

We have dinner this evening at the same terrace.

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Chapter 5: Castle To Castle

In which we go paddling through the 100 Years War.

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Breakfast is the same as it ever was. Same as it ever was. Who can complain though of fresh orange juice and croissants and bread and butter and jam, and coffee. I wont mention the tea.

Todays canoeing is relatively short and broken up by the visits we make to the towns and villages and castles we pass. It’s good to make an early start though as we have plenty to do.

Back at the riverside we flip over the canoes and slide them down to the waters edge. We have a quick look inside to eject any hitchhikers. The usual culprits are spiders and slugs. Once it was an Adder, which is a venomous snake, and nobody noticed until we were just about to embark. I just scooped it out with a paddle and it swam off. They are generally only about a foot long and a bite would not be deadly.

Anyway normally a slug is the worst that we come across. One everyone is ready and we have what we need in the boats we wave goodbye to Paul, but we will see him again at our first rendezvous at Roque-Gageac in a couple of hours.

If we are early enough and it’s the right season, the river will have a soft covering of mist which sometimes floats on the water like ephemeral beach balls. As we pull out from the beach the current soon picks up and the canoes will rock as they hit the first waves. If I’m lucky no-one will have noticed that I’ve headed for the far bank, on river left, and slipped behind an island. This can be risky sometimes as the channel can be shallow in summer conditions and I’ve had to walk from time to time to get through. Usually it’s fine.

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When I come out the other end the other canoes can be some way ahead of me as they have scooted down the faster current on river right. I get myself onto that side too and ride the current underneath the bank as we pass the little used golf course and head towards the cliffs ahead at the Vitrac bridge. We may even see Paul go across in the van.

At one time as you approached the cliffs you could see a small sign attached to the riverbank under the cliffs. If you approached it, is said, “Danger, Canoe on the Other Side”! This made me laugh. I presumed it related to the possibility of rock falls, but their is a road between the cliff and the river. Sometime you see people climbing on the cliffs too.

After the bridge the river turns left and another island appears on the river right. If the water-levels are enough then this too can be an interesting area to explore. It is very shallow at the beginning though and it can be hard to get in the correct stream which

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otherwise means you are pushed down the centre of the river in the main flow.

A long straight stretch appears before you now and you can look far into the distance and see the village of Domme perched on top of a wooded cliff. This is a Bastide town, which means it was fortified and protected in the Middle-Ages. The Knights Templar were imprisoned there and the English captured and lost it several times during the 100 Years War. It also faced turmoil during the Wars of Religion later. As we paddle down we get a good view of the cliff-top stronghold but when the river turns underneath the cliff it disappears from view, never to be seen again. It’s a sad fact that I’ve passed this way many times and have yet to go up to the village itself. It’s quite a walk from the river. One day.

The river broadens a little now and still runs quickly in some places. Another bridge comes into view. This is Cenac. This is where Georges pour late canoe outfitter has one of his bases. One of his sons, Christophe, now runs it. The base is just before the bridge on the river left. I used to pull over here and run into the canoe place to see if any one was around. I might see Anton who was one of Georges helpers or I might see Georges himself, white-haired, with a cigarette dangling from his mouth. Even though it was barely 10 o’clock in the morning he would entice me to have a little something; a glass of port or a pastis. I would, and did, but I couldn’t stay long as my guests would be disappearing downstream.

Back on the river I’d skip around the little island on the far side of the bridge and then catch a little area of waves where the water started to run quick and soon I’d be catching up as the river again

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began a long straight run. On this run it is fun to keep changing where you are in the river as the current, which can be quite swift, changes sides quite often. It can also be surprisingly shallow in some places and even more surprisingly even in the deeper and faster water you can suddenly come up against rocks. I once hit one with such a force that it brought the canoe to a complete standstill and nearly catapulted me out the front of the boat. Luckily I was paddling alone and I merely ended up sprawling in the bow.

With a small tented cafe appearing on the right the river approaches some very white cliffs as it turns sharply right. They look chalky but on closer inspection is appears to be a type of Oolitic Limestone. By this I mean a fine type of limestone composed of very fine grains (ooids, or egg shaped) which doesn’t have the horizontal layers and vertical cracks associated with the limestones we have already seen. The white can be glaring on a hot summers day, but it is worth paddling underneath the cliff to admire its colour and structure.

In the height of summer there is sometimes a photographer on a small boat tied midstream under a shade. You can see a table onshore with another man with a computer and a printer which is set up for you to buy the prints he takes.

By changing sides he from the white cliffs on the left to the woods on the right we can get our first glimpse of Rogue-Gageac as we approach. First we see the houses of Gageac and then the brown cliff-face of the Roque comes into view. High on the cliffs you can see the ancient troglodyte caves where once man lived, and

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below it the rows of house hugging the tiny space beneath the cliff before the river.

As we approach I remind every one of the place where we will disembark and how we will pass the dock where the Gabares are. These are boats which resemble little galleons and which are replicas of the style of bat once used to convey wine and other produce down the Dordogne to Bordeaux. These days they are used to ferry tourists between Beynac and Roque-Gageac so that they can enjoy the river, its views and the castles from the water.

They are the only powered boats allowed on the river. The sails are merely for show. They do travel quite slowly and generally don’t make much of a wake. All the same I instruct everyone to turn the canoe into the bow wave created by the Gabare so it is at right angles to the wave and this makes the canoe easy to handle. If you are parallel to the wave then it is possible to be tipped over.

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Usually we pass several of these as we come into Roque-Gageac and then we approach the stone ramp as the river turns left and slide ourselves in. The river can be busy here with other canoeists as this is a popular stretch of river and it is now getting to the time of day when everyone is ready to do something. In the height of summer it can be a mass of children!

It is with some difficulty then that we pull up at the ramp and drag our canoes out of the way in case other people want to come behind us and use it too. Making everything tidy we walk up the ramp to the village, and agree on how much time we need to look around. Up to an hour if we want. It is interesting to walk through the back lanes of the village. It only has one road, which is busy, but behind are many footpaths which are worth exploring. These days you are not allowed to walk up the wooden staircase to the ledges and caves. Several years ago a large rockfall damaged some of the buildings in the village and the road had to be closed for a while. If you look on the cliffs above you can see that some of them are now covered in wire mesh.

Sometimes when we are here their is a small market in the car-park. It sells home-made produce, like liqueurs and cakes, and some home-grown fruits and vegetables and often some clothes and artwork as well. Usually I just flop down in the cafe and have a coffee, or perhaps the first beer of the day.

When everyone is ready we go back to the boats. It can be really busy now with crowds of kids drifting by and shapes and sizes and colours of canoes strung out across the river like confetti. We get ourselves underway and drift backwards as the river continues its left turn around a full hairpin. Looking backwards

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gives us another view of this beautiful village although we still have to be aware of the Gabares coming through and the hordes of schoolchildren barely in control. It’s only really busy in July though and earlier or later in the season we are practically the only ones on the water.

Passing a Château on the right bank we bring our canoes over to river left so that we can glimpse our first view of Castelnaud in the distance. This is a huge castle which sits imperiously above the Dordogne. It is a fortress, the very essence of a castle and the largest we have seen. Our paddle from Roque-Gageac will only take half an hour and for most of this time the castle at Castelnaud will loom larger and larger until we approach the arches of the bridge beneath it and pull over onto the grassy banks on river left.

The castle is famous for being ‘English’. That is, during the 100 Years War, it had its allegiance to the Plantagenet Kings of England and faced the French at the Château Beynac, just downstream, which we will come to later.

The castle of course changed hands several times during this war and it’s defences and weaponry were continually upgraded as war technology and war-craft advanced. By the time of the French Revolution however the castle was a ruin. It has now been restored to its medieval glory and is a museum dedicated to the weaponry of the period. We will have plenty of time to visit it.

First however we should have some lunch. How about another picnic by the river? Why not? Paul will have found us, if he wasn’t

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already waiting for us. We may, or may not have a picnic table, but if we don’t then we can just flip our canoes and make one. We have toilets nearby to clean up and a bakery, a shop and a cafe too. If we wont we could cool off with a swim in the river as well. In the high season we’ve seen large parties down here with live music and many people. Once we were here on the day they have an annual race for these huge canoes which can hold thirteen people. When we arrived on the beach that day their were huge crowds of people and a brass band was playing loudly. Suddenly however we could hear this strange chanting coming down the river and when we looked we could see a small flotilla of these extra large canoes coming downstream. Each crew was operated by a team of people wearing a uniform and each boat was singing a song to match the rhythm of the paddling. It was quite a sight and the noise grew to a crescendo as the first boat arrived to much cheering.

After our lunch and a quiet doze on the grass it’s time to walk up to the village and visit the castle. We arrange a rendezvous time back at the boats, we’ll need a good couple of hours to visit the castle, and decide who wants to walk up and who wants to be driven. It’s a steep, but interesting walk, for those that want to go. It is also very hot, usually.

The trail up to the village follows an old Roman Road. The castle here can be documented back to the 13th Century but earlier castles were built here and probably forts too. It’s thought the Romans had something here. In any case the Roman Road winds up through the village in its characteristic steep fashion. The first chance for a breather comes when you reach the cemetery. The wrought-iron gates are imposing, but they swing open easily into a cemetery which has outstanding views down the Dordogne,

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where the canoes look like flies and the Gabares look like canoes. The cemetery also looks down a tributary valley of the Dordogne called the Ceou Valley. This is a classic valley punctuated by the tall Lombardy Poplar trees; it is also a valley famous for the Phylloxera aphid which destroyed much of Frances vineyards in the 19th century. In the square of the village at the lower level is a statue dedicated to the memory of this time. This shouldn’t distract from the beauty of the views from this vantage point

though. Across the river can be seen the Château Marqueyssac, which was originally built by the French to spy on the English at Castelnaud. You can see, even from here, its famous terraced gardens of topiary. In the far distance you can also see Roque-Gageac.

Also in this cemetery are some Burial Crypts. On of them is for the use of the Bastard family; a name still used in France and a name in England that was brought over with the Norman French. You can go inside and read the inscriptions relating to many members of the family including a Baron.

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On leaving the cemetery the trail continues past the church, which is sometimes open, and then up again along a part of the Roman Road that has been restored. That is, essentially, covered up. It looks smart, but doesn’t feel quite right. After some more stiff turns the narrow road comes into the high village, which is barely a single street below the castle. A couple of cafes and tourist shops are here, but nothing too tacky, and this is where the entrance to the castle is.

I think the castle is worth a visit, if only for its outstanding views up and down the river. You can clearly see the Château Beynac downstream which is where your mortal enemies the French would have been camped. However this castle is large and strong and seems impregnable to the weapons of the day. Inside the castle is a one way system for getting yourself around. It’s important to follow this as the stairs, particularly in the towers, are narrow and it would be difficult to pass other people coming the other way. You can inspect many types of weapon in the rooms of the castle, and you can watch several small films that explain the history of the castle; they are helpfully subtitled in English. The most impressive weapons are the catapults or trebuchets which are on the ramparts and walls of the castle. Sometimes one of these will be in use to show how they work as they sling a lump of rock across a field!

The castle museum does give you some insight into what life would have been like during times of war, but I still think the place itself is immense and the views are always outstanding whatever the weather.

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Back at the canoes it is probably getting quite late in the afternoon. We only have a short twenty minute canoe down to Beynac so we could still fit in something else if we want to. How about the Château de Marqueyssac and its gardens? How about the wine cave for some tastings? How about paddling back to our hotel for a beer?

Leaving the river bank at Castelnaud can be a bit tricky as the river on the left side, where we are can be very shallow. It’s best to paddle upstream a little bit and then swing over to the right side and go under the bridge that way. You still have to watch out for the Gabares though.

Once through the bridge it is approximately a straight run down to Beynac. You should remember to spin the boat around from time to time so that you can admire the Castle Castelnaud from this side. It is still imposing. In high summer though you may have to watch out for the river weed that blossoms some years. It can form a mat of white flowers almost from bank to bank, which can be difficult to cross if you end up on the shallow side.

As the river approaches the railway bridge the fast water is on the river right, but on the left bank is yet another Château. This is Fayrac, which was built by the English, to spy on the French in Beynac. Rumour has it that it is now owned by a Texas Oil Billionaire although I’ve never seen a Lone Star flag flying.

From underneath the bridge the Château Beynac comes into view; you can see the dark castle and the church stood imposingly above the cliff and the village. The river swings to the

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left as we canoe under this cliff and the castle looms above us. At the end of the village we will see the docks for the Gabares and our ramp where we will finish our canoeing for the day. After a tricky disembarkation we will carry the canoes a short distance and turn them over on the grassy bank. All our canoes and paddles and gear we will carry up to the car-park where Paul is waiting for us.

Across the street is our hotel and we can cross the road, carefully, as it can be very busy, and quickly check-in. Everyone can disappear to their rooms and we will reconvene later for dinner, which is right here at the hotel.

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Chapter 6: Châteaux To Siorac

In which we canoe to the Château and avoid the Swans

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Some people who come on these trips join me in the morning for a walk before breakfast. I have walks for every morning for those that are keen and depending on the time of year and the inclinations of the guests we choose a time to meet and a length of walk to suit everyone. Some of those that have joined me for walks everyday of the trip have told me at the end that they feel that they have had two holidays. A walking holiday separate from the canoeing holiday that happens before breakfast.

On this morning I try to persuade people to come on an extra special walk which takes about three hours. We have to make an incredibly early start and aim to be out and about by 5.30am or 6am at the latest. The aim is to get back to the hotel at about 9am just in time for a second breakfast. More of that later.

Depending on the time of year the real trick is to get going at sunrise, or slightly after, when the sun is just rising over the castle. You can imagine how early this can be at the height of summer.

I have a surprise for those that do want to come with me as I explain that we will first do a short canoe, of about 30 or 40 minutes and then abandon our canoes on the far bank and walk in a huge loop from the Château Milandes to the Château at Castelnaud, across the arched bridge and back along the bank-side river trail to Beynac. If they are aghast at this then I will encourage them by mentioning that we should arrive in Castelnaud just in time for the bakery to open, where we can buy a pastry, and that the cafe will just be opening and we can fortify ourselves with a strong coffee.

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The logistics of doing this can be confusing. We will have to take paddles and lifejackets for the canoeing stretch and our hiking boots for the walking stretch. If everyone comes then we will catch up with our canoes later by driving. If only a a few come then we will have some fun later trying to squeeze everyone into the remaining canoes and worry abut the fact some will have no paddles to help or indeed a lifejacket to wear. We will worry about this later.

So, quietly letting ourselves out of the hotel at an ungodly hour we will fetch the paddles and lifejackets from the van and go down to the water. I mustn’t forget to return the key to the driver! It may be still dark at this point and we will have to carry the boats from the bank and slip them into the water and get aboard with our stuff and probably feeling a bit uneasy wearing our clonking hiking boots in the boat.

Usually a rolling mist is floating above the strangely calm and quiet river as we set off and we will be talking in hushed voices. Ahead of us I will point out that we have a large group of islands with the main channel on the left, a very shallow centre channel and a quiet channel on the right which is almost hidden from view by an overhanging tree. This is the way we will go, for it is along this channel that we have the chance of seeing some sleepy wildlife.

Being careful as we enter the channel we have to negotiate the bend in the river, the quickening of the current and the tree whose fingers seem to want to grab us. Once on the other side we can see that we have a steep cliff on our right and some muddy banks and grassy verges on our left. Depending on the river levels we

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can see many smaller channels leading into the interior of the islands though the ways are often blocked with small fallen trees and bushes.

I encourage everyone to whisper as we try to glide noiselessly through. Sometimes we will disturb Nutrias sleeping on the bank and we’ll be able to watch them slip into the water as they swim away. They very rarely dive, as an Otter would, and so you can watch them make themselves scarce.

As usual we will disturb a number of Mallard ducks and as we come out at the far end of the islands where numerous channels come together we usually see a pair of swans whose whiteness eerily becomes more obvious as they appear our of the mist and gloom. We will give them a wide berth, particularly if they have Cygnets and we will creep past the wooded parts of the island before joining the main stream.

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It was at this point several years ago when I was paddling with my friend Marc from Canada that we disturbed two huge birds that rose blackly from the tree as we passed. They were obviously Owls and we surmised later that they had been Eagle Owls: Europe's largest species. They hardly made a noise as their shadow passed over us.

Over on the far river left you can see the river is flowing quite swiftly but to get over there we have to paddle across a shallow and weedy section, being careful not to catch our paddles as we go. As we finally reach into the fast water I tell everyone to look back because we now have a superb view of Beynac castle standing blackly above the village, the river and the mist. If we are lucky with the weather and have timed it correctly the sun will be just breaking over the parapets and battlements.

The river is so fast here that we can just spin our boats around and drift through the rolling mist still circling above the waves and watch the castle gradually distance itself from us. A view that has been possible for a 1000 years.

Getting ourselves together we turn our boats forward again just as we are approaching the railway bridge. I encourage everyone to change sides of the river again and drift over to river right as we pass under the arches. We are rewarded with a view of the Château des Milandes in the distance as it too, usually, sits above the mist and forest. The château doesn’t have the menace of Beynac, nor its blackness. This Château was built to house the lords and ladies of Castelnaud in times of peace. In this way they wouldn’t have to suffer the sounds and smells of the armed forces

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that occupied the fortress and would only retreat behind its safe walls in times of strife.

We will visit both of these castles today, but first we must find our take-out point on the left riverbank so that we can start our walk. We are looking for a concrete ramp which is next to a small pumping station. To help us a canoe outfitter, on the right bank, has impaled half a yellow canoe on a pole. Once we’ve seen that we can search for our ramp. When we pull over we jump out, trying not to get our boots wet, and we drag the canoes up the ramp a little and tuck them into the side and hide our paddles and lifejackets underneath. Everything else will go with us, so hopefully we haven’t go too much to carry. By this time almost an hour has gone by and we must now start our two hour hike.

Remembering that we will be back here later in the day we can hurry up the lane to the road and stride past the memorial to Josephine Baker (we’ll have lunch here later) and take a right on the small road that starts to climb the hill as we head towards Castelnaud. As the roads twists and turns and rises we will get another glimpse or two of Château des Milandes. The road then turns away, still climbing, and passes a dark wood in which a house can be glimpsed. Stranger still an outdoor swimming-pool, with a fairly recent plastic dome now covering it is also here. I’ve never seen it in use, though to be fair I only ever pass here early in the morning.

The road takes an S shape here and drops a little revealing a couple of meadows. From time to time we disturb some deer here. To our left a small dead-end road leads to a farmhouse but we turn right as the road continues to climb. Finally we reach the

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crest of the climb and notice a trail disappearing into the woods on the left. This is not the way. I’ve mistakenly gone this way and been on a massive detour which comes out somewhere near the Château Fayrac. I did this once with a guest who thought I was lost and he got so frustrated that when we eventually stumbled out on a road he waved down a car to ask the way. I was right! Though I was still annoyed that I’d taken the wrong trail.

A few yards further down is another trail leading left into the woods. It is also signposted for Castelnaud, as is also the road, if we don’t take the trail. The path is indicated as being shorter, which it is, as the road has to wind a long way around to get to the village. However this is also the wrong way, and although it’s not a big a diversion as the first ‘wrong way’. I’ve been this way too. More than once and the trail includes a long dark descent through the woods and then a long slow climb out again.

So, safe in the knowledge accrued by getting lost many times, we stay on the road until a third trail appears on the left, just past a small house. This trail leads downhill with the forest on the left and open fields on the right. It’s a pleasant open descent with good views as you pass a sleepy farmhouse, with an old dog with barely the energy to raise a bark. Just past the farm the road winds down past a wood that has been recently felled and replanted. A huge tower of cut wood sits on the side of the road. It’s been there a few years now.

On reaching a cross-roads we strike straight across and up a steep road with high hedges either side until we reach a crest at another junction and we can see the road sweeping down to the village in the distance. It looks simpler to go this way, but this

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would mean following the road down. Instead we turn sharp left up a very steep road until we come to a group of houses which are at the very top of the Castelnaud village.

As we come around the corner we are surprised to find that we are looking down towards the top of the Castelnaud castle. Usually it’s still misty at this time and the castle is often floating on a sea of mist. We walk past the few houses, losing sight of the castle, and reach a path that leads to the last house. We have to follow this path and it looks for all the world like we will have to knock on the door but just as we approach the gate a small path runs off to the left and ducks into the wood.

This is a fabulous little trail because it follows the edge of the cliff which is high above the Dordogne River and before long we are getting glimpses of the river far below. Or sometimes we do as often you can see nothing but fog and mist and you wouldn’t know what lies below. I should mention that one time I met the lady who lives in the house we’ve just past and she walks every morning along this path all the way down to the castle and then all the way down to the lower village to the bakery and then returns again. That’s a fair hike.

As we creep along this wood on the cliffs edge we suddenly breakout at a huge statue of a cross which overlooks the river. The views from here are fabulous. The river sweeps below us, and on its far bank is the flat farmland we will walk by later. Further away is the Château Marqueyssac with its famous box hedge topiary and in the far distance the cliffs of Roque-Gageac can be seen.

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After admiring the view we continue along the muddy trail until it turns right and start to go down towards the back of the castle which is coming into view. The path is now cobbled and is the remains of an old Roman Road built up to a fort which previously stood on the castle site.

If we have time we can take a detour here and clamber back out to the cliffs and attempt to scramble out to the front of the castle below its exterior walls. This is not easy and you must scurry into the ditch surrounding the castle and push yourself through some scrubby trees which are blocking the way. It’s a precarious vantage point once you are out there, but the views are wonderful and seeing the castle from here is unique.

So after a brief flurry of photographs we return to the Roman Road and continue the descent into the top of the village as we come to the level of the castle and finally stumble into the area of the village where we were yesterday when we visited. It’s great to be here this early in the morning. It is empty and quiet. The light is warm and golden (sometimes) and from time to time we are surprised by huge hot-air balloons rising in front of us as they take off from the fields below the village.

We quickly drop down through the village following the path we took yesterday. Down past the church and the cemetery. Perhaps we have time for a quick glimpse over the river and the Ceau Valley before finishing the descent down to the river where we find the bakery. It’s open if we have timed ourselves correctly and it is now 8 o’clock. It is to be hoped that the proprietor of the cafe is awake on time and has the cafe open. We can get a coffee.

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After a brief break we ready ourselves for the last leg of our hike back to Beynac. At least it is flat as we will follow the riverbank all the way. So first we cross the bridge and then drop off the road onto the path. At one time this section was unkempt and we had to drag ourselves through a hedge. Now a new path has been made and we no longer have to take a diversion around a farmhouse which sits on the bank.

This part of the walk is pleasant and brisk. The warmth of the day is beginning to rise and everyone, cheered by the coffee and cake, is keen to get back to a proper breakfast at the hotel. After a while our path passes a couple of campsites where we can see some early morning risers and perhaps a dog-walker or two. It was along here many years ago that we were surprised by a dog running towards us apparently being chased by another, stranger creature. The dog was friendly and inquisitive but its friend turned out to be a young kid goat, who kept a safe distance, and then rejoined his dog friend when the dog decided to leave us. I’ve always wondered how that goat got imprinted on the dog and where the strange couple lived.

Continuing along the sandy trail we eventually get to the Fayrac railway bridge, through the arch of which we get a perfectly framed image of Beynac Castle. Not far now as we pass some sports fields where once upon a time was camped a World War 2 festival of some kind. A whole sea of Khaki tents and men in GI and French and British uniforms and jeeps and half-tracks zooming about and men saluting each other. Quite a sight it was and it made me smile. No Germans I might add.

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The trail then gets squeezed between the river and a hedge marking the boundary of the last campsite before it pops out onto the road at the Hotel Bonnet. When we first started coming here we used to stay in this hotel. It was pleasant, if a little quirky, and a little noisy as it is right on the road. Unfortunately it closed several years ago - we heard due to fire-regulations - and has never reopened. How Marc used to love the girl in the silk dress that used to manage it.

Just here the river turns sharply left and a concrete ramp leads down to the river, where we used to leave our canoes, but where now a whole row of fishing punts lines up. These boats amuse me because they always seem half full of water as they are now and for all the world look quite unfit for purpose. But when I do occasionally see a fishermen prepare one he simple bales it out, unchains it and rows it out to his favourite spot.

We are almost home now as we walk the narrow path overlooking the river with the busy road beside us. If you look closely into the water far below, and if the light is at the right angle, you can see the huge size of the fish down there. Huge black Barbels which are a kind of catfish. And then, before you know it, we are at the Hotel Château and can get to breakfast after a quick wash and brush up. I’m starving.

After a breakfast which offers more than the usual ‘continental’, with boiled eggs and ham and cheese, everyone can prepare for the days proper work.

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First we are going to visit the Château Beynac which is looming large above our village. We will walk up through the village on the cobbled lanes and get into the castle when it opens its doors at 10 o’clock. We can wander around the castle for an hour or so where we will probably have the place to ourselves. We will then wander back down through the village and rendezvous at the canoes at midday where we left them yesterday.

The van is driving up to the castle for those that would like a lift and I shall walk up the hill to the castle gates. Usually I don’t go inside the castle; not every trip anyway, but usually use the time to take some photographs. The walk up through the village is beautifully scenic and the views over the river and the valley is fantastic. I remind those that are going into the castle to explore every thoroughfare and make sure they get to the very top. This castle has a very different feeling from Castelnaud. It has a more informal feel and is usually less cluttered with visitors. It’s hard to believe that Richard the Lionheart was briefly the King here in the 12th Century.

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When everyone is done with the castle we meander back down to the hotel to get ourselves organised for canoeing in the afternoon. We muster everyone at the boats and get all the gear necessary. Of course it is highly like that we don’t have enough boats for everyone if some of the boats were used on the expeditionary hike this morning. We will either have some fun with three in a boat or some will hop in the van for a drive around to where the canoes are.

Once ready we will set off and probably take the same route on the right of the islands as we did this morning. We still might see some wildlife as not many canoes go around this side. We’ll probably see the swans again as we pass the island and then spin our canoes around to get a good view of the castle. Before long we are pulling up at the same ramp as we were at this morning. Déjà vu? Here are the rest of our canoes and our gear is still safely stowed beneath them. We'll tuck the rest of the boats away and stash our gear again before changing into our walking shoes. It is to be hoped that the van is here to meet us and we can decide who wants to ride up to the Château Milandes and who wants to walk: it’s only 15 minutes.

At the castle gates I will make sure everyone gets a printed guide and I explain that you guide yourself through the castle, in a one-way system and that the whole castle is dedicated to Josephine Baker. She was an exotic dancer and singer from the USA who came to France, because her material was too racy, and danced in the clubs in Paris. She eventually married and lived in this castle .... you can find out the whole story by coming on the trip with us ....or looking elsewhere on the web. It’s a fascinating story and the castle and ground are well worth a look around. As an

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aside they also have falconry displays in the castle grounds and it is possible to visit the birds too.

Whilst our guests are busy here we return down through the village to the smaller Josephine Baker memorial garden in the lower village. We can use a picnic table here to set up lunch in the shade of a tree and our guests can meander down the hill when they are ready.

Eventually our guests come back and we have a lazy lunch of bread and cheese and fruits and meats, perhaps with a glass of wine or two.

We‘ve had a long day already and we still have an afternoons paddling to do! Eventually we will get ourselves together and walk back to the river and start our paddle. How far to go though? At the least we will have about three hours paddle to the triple bridge at Le Garrit and if we want to go further it is another

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hour and a half after that to take the canoes all the way home to Siorac and the base of Canoe Raid and our friend Eric.

We can have some fun on this stretch of paddling because we have several islands to negotiate and we will have the river mostly to ourselves. The crowds of yesterday are well behind us as we continue down the Dordogne whose valley is slowly opening wider and wider. After a short while we will pass the small village of Envaux on river left and almost immediately we will have an island. It looks shallow and un-passable on the left side, which it sometimes is when the river is very low, but usually this is the way to go. It’s quiet, it’s overgrown and it’s great fun to wander down this shiny bright stream even if you have to get out and wade for some stretches. Inside here is a different world. Hundreds if not thousands of damselflies all around. Fish skittering underneath the boat in clear water. The ducks will clatter and moan and the Kingfishers will flash. The canoes will graze over the shallowest parts and you’ll be surprised by sudden deep pools. If you are pulling your partner who is staying in the boat it can be fun swimming through the deeper green and limpid pools. It’s all a bit African Queen in here, although without the gin bottles floating by.

From time to time we may have to negotiate a fallen branch until eventually we come to where the channel turns sharply right and heads towards the main river. It is shallow here and the boat will need a sharp tug before finally we nudge the canoes back out into the main stream which seems to be rushing by at quite a pace.

We will now hug the left bank as we continue. For two reasons; first because we are looking for further channels to explore and second because this is the only place to find some shade from

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the midday sun. Some of the channels on this bank have become overgrown with new willows and the entrances are blocked and from time to time I go into a channel only to find I have to back myself out as the way is blocked by a fallen tree. It all depends on the river levels and the time of year. I’ve been here in the early spring when the river is high and you can practically paddle through the woods!

Just further on comes another choice a long slow meander on the right on a quick zigzag on the left. No choice. The left is more fun as you have to negotiate a series of slightly sharp turns in the quick water.

After this little excitement the bridge at Allas-les-Mines comes into view and we can decide to take a small break if we want by pulling up on the grassy bank. This place has only two things: a working mine which extracts I don’t know what, and a very fancy restaurant, including a menu for 64 Euros! Still it’s a friendly place and if they are still open (it’s mid-afternoon by now) they will serve us a bottle of wine on the terrace. They have some very delicious and crisp white wines which are a great way to celebrate our final day on the river.

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So after our short, or perhaps longer break, we are back on the river for the next stretch down to Le Garrit. Again we will hog the left bank looking for shade and channels although sometimes we will cross the river to tuck ourselves into the stream where the water flows faster. In the height of summer this part of the river blooms with a water weed which can almost cover the whole width of the river. It has a white, with yellow centred, flower which covers the river like a carpet of snow. This is a natural weed that grows more heavily in some years than others and which gets swept away every season to re-grow the next. It’s called Water-crowfoot.

Soon the old broken railway bridge at Le Garrit comes into view and we have to be careful to come down the left bank as it is difficult to cross over if the river is full of weed. Just under the bridge we can pull over for another rest. It’s been a long day so we can decide that enough is enough and we can finish here. But it’s the last day so why don’t we take the canoes home and paddle a little while longer? If it’s hot we can cool off with a swim here and after a short rest we can be on our way again.

Paddling under the double bridge, one of which is the new railway bridge the river soon sweeps around a long left-hand band. We will choose the centre of the river now to take as much current as we can even if this means criss-crossing the river from time to time. That is unless we are looking for shade which is very hard to come by in this stretch of the river.

If we keep a careful lookout we can dodge into a long narrow channel on the right bank and almost disappear from view as we

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appear to be in a canal. It can be shallow in here, and we may have to dodge some trees and eventually we will have to leave the cool and the shade to join the quick stream as it reaches into another bend as we approach the bridge at Siorac. Just under the bridge on the left side Eric has a shack from which he runs an office in the high season. We can pull over here for a quick chat and to see if he wants the canoes left here or whether we should continue for the last half-an-hour to his real base. Usually this is the case.

So it’s back on the water for the final run with the last few channels to explore on the left before passing an often crowded swimming beach on the right and the wall which signifies the Canoe Raid base. The first time I came here I completely missed it and sailed on merrily downstream for another mile or so before realising. It was hard work paddling upstream to get back here so I’m extra careful these days to make sure I don’t go past.

The take-out can be a bit tricky here as the water is fast and the steps down to the water steep. Eventually we haul the canoes out and dump our stuff in the van - it is here? - before wandering over

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the road and returning the paddles and lifejackets to Eric. If we are lucky Eric is here himself. In the old days Canoe Raid was run by Eric’s father George, who sadly passed away a couple of years ago. George used to invite us up to his lair, as Eric does today, to sit down with him and have a beer and a chat after a long day on the river. His lovely face and smile is missed, but I am reminded of him every time I come back to the river. He was a lovely man.

So finally we have finished our canoeing and we must get our tired bodies back in the van for the short drive to Beynac. We say goodbye to Eric, hoping that we will see him later in the season, or next season if it’s the end of the year.

Back at the hotel everyone will scuttle off to their rooms. We might just wander out the back to the hidden away swimming pool for a last half-hour relaxing before dinner.

Everyone reconvenes at about 7 30 for dinner. We can celebrate with a few glasses of wine and recall the highlights of our days on the river. I expect everyone is tired and looking forward to a rest at home. I will thank everyone for their company and we will share a few toasts.

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Chapter 7: Back To Brive

In which we visit the cave at Lascaux II before leaving for home.

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It’s the final morning and everyone has the return to Paris on their mind. We still have time however to manage a couple of things this morning before making our way to Brive for the train departures.

First however we will get breakfast over and then make sure everything is packed away in the van and we have all the luggage and have not left anything behind. We have some fun cramming everything in and making sure we can access the stuff we are going to leave at Roland’s place.

Our intention now is to get to Lascaux and visit the caves. We telephoned yesterday to book ourselves in. Preferably we would like an English language tour but they only do a few per day and it might not fall kindly for us. No matter. We will take what we can get.

It’s a fairly short 40 minute or so drive through the back roads, passed Sarlat to get to Montignac and then from there only three or four kilometres to the site of the cave. We arrive before 10am to catch an early as possible tour. Usually the parking spaces are fairly full already, especially in the high season, but the tour buses have not yet arrived.

At the ticket booth we sometimes have some problems. Every year they seem to change the place where the tickets are sold. Some years it is only at the Tourist Office in Montignac and other years it is only on site. If it’s a Tourist Office year we can usually blag our way by saying that we hiked here and it’s unreasonable to ask us to hike to Montignac and back. It always works.

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Of course Paul and I have been in before and so we don’t go on every trip. Besides we have to take some gear to drop off at Roland’s Place. The tour takes about an hour so that gives us time to do that. From time to time we also get guests who don’t want to visit the cave and see the paintings. Some people are put off by the fact that it is a replica and not the real thing. If that is the case then we can take these people to visit the huge fortified church at Saint-Amand-de-Coly and wander the beautiful village.

I should say though that I believe that Lascaux II is an outstanding visit. The cave is an exact duplicate and the artist who painted the replicas took 9 years to do so. It is absolutely stunning, and I think not to be missed. Not many people will have the chance to return here.

After an hour or so Paul and I will return to pick up the pieces and we will finish the drive back to Brive that takes about an hour. We are usually in plenty of time to get the train and often we have sufficient time to return the van to the hire place and catch the same train up to Paris. Strangely two trains leave within a few

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minutes of one another and often we have some guests on one and some on the other.

Sometimes we have time for lunch before departing, sometimes just time for a cup of coffee.

It’s always sad to say our farewells; here or in Paris. I, for one, can say I’ve had a great trip and met some lovely people.

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