Cycling in the Dordogne

Saturday Discovered that could not fit front panniers onto bikes. Need some kind of attachment which bike shop did not sell me and now did not have in stock!

Aaargh. Decided that we could still camp but would have to leave behind the Trangia stove. Since this trip is a proving ground for the remainder of our trip this means it is not a waste of time!

Sunday Fly to Bordeaux. Involves a horrible as usual minicab ride to Gatwick. We get there in plenty of time quite nervous about how they will take our bikes. We are hoping we do not have to remove pedals or turn handlebars sideways or anything like that. As it turns out it all goes quite smoothly and we have a very friendly checkin man. We are a bit overweight but being first in line seems to mean it isn’t a problem. We wheel the bikes over to the “Oversize luggage” conveyor belt and the guy manning it is very friendly but it is still heartstopping to see your bike disappear down a conveyor belt!

In the air we are just tucking into our dry sandwiches when an announcement comes from the captain: “Ah, actually, sorry to inform you, we can’t land at Bordeaux and are turning back to Gatwick”. Aaargh!

Finally we are on the ground in Bordeaux. It is seven degrees! That is five degrees colder than London! I didn’t want to believe it at first but it is true. At least the sun is shining, but due to the delays (see above) it is now past 6pm so not warm.

We cycle off to the city (about 10km away). Fortunately the way is quite well signed. The outer of Bordeaux is light industrial. We didn’t really pass any homes or suburbs, but lots of large warehouses selling kitchens, bathrooms, carpets… Slowly the buildings become more tightly clustered until we are zooming through an old city, with narrow streets and high buildings. We find ourselves in a bustling square - Place Gambetta - and use it to orient ourselves. Around us lots of young people are milling around (Bordeaux is a big university town) and the atmosphere is bustling and pleasant.

We make it to our hotel, selected from the guidebook. Unfortunately he is full! This is not something we expected in April. The plan is just to arrive at hotels and take pot luck. Luckily there are several other hotels in the street and we cross the road to find a room. With the bicycles safely stored in an interior ventilation shaft, we head off to find a restaurant.

On Sunday night not everything is open but a “traditional French” restaurant just down the road is. We go in to find it done up like an old barnyard - four million knick-knacks stuck on the walls and ceiling and the floor covered in straw.

However, the food was fine. I dived right in and had the local speciality, cassoulet (duck with white beans) on the first night. It was pretty good! (But, I would spend the next two weeks trying not to have it again :-).

Monday Today we planned a rest day. A good idea, as Fabian’s bike has a damaged gear cable so we try to find a bike shop to get it fixed. However, in France most shops are shut on Sunday and Monday, and so indeed is the bike shop when we get to it. So we decide to find a local park where we can have some space to look at it ourselves.

It’s a beautiful day. Still cool, but very sunny. Riding around Bordeaux is lots of fun. Its great to be back on the bikes! We sit in a little park in the middle of a square and have lunch. The flowers are all out, the birds are singing. We visit the tourist office who gives us a list of what trains go east. We hope to catch a train to the start of our ride proper. This list proves invaluable as it indicates what trains carry bikes! In France, only a small proportion do.

We finally find the main park and set about fixing our bikes. Amazingly (maybe not) it works! We fix my brakes and the gear cable. We are turning into real bike mechanics! Ha ha.

Tuesday Time to set off! We barrel down the main road to the railway station in bright sun and heavy traffic. We are quite early as we don’t really know the situation with the trains. As it turns out, the route we want is suitably unimportant to have several trains a day with a baggage car. Neither is the train full. We buy two tickets to Lalinde, a place which looks like an easy day’s ride from Les Eyzie de Tayac, the start of our ride proper. Famous last words!

We load our bikes and Fabian uses his nifty long cable lock to lock the panniers to the bikes. He is very proud of this and I must say it does give peace of mind. We retire to the cabin, its a bit of an old train, vinyl seats and that sort of thing. It slowly fills up, a bit, and off we head, chugging into the countryside.

The train journey is very pleasant. Shortly we pull into a busy station and as we wait, a TGV roars in. Sleek, fast, enormous, these trains are giants of engineering. It sits and pants loudly on the track opposite us, before chargning off again. We felt quite backwoods compared to this big important train.

Our train eventually reached our destination. That’s actually a big word compared to what it was! The train stops and we hurry out to get our bikes and bags off as quickly as possible. There is no platform so everything is a big reach onto the ground. Finally we disembark in a tangle of bikes and bags, and look around.

Lalinde is pretty quiet. No-one else got off. We stand there and the train pulls away. The noise recedss into the distance and we feel alone. Its still a sunny day, warm in the sun and cool in the shade. The birds are singing. The station is closed though. In rural France everything shuts for lunch, for between one to two hours, including train stations.

We potter around getting our stuff in order. Then we have to figure out which way to go! We strike off rather randomly but shortly manage to locate ourselves on the map. We follow signs to the centre of the village. It’s very charming, with canals and a small square. Everything is shut, of course, but a snack bar is open.

We lock up and sit down for some lunch. Fabian has Salad Perigourdine, a regional salad (with duck livers). It’s reasonably nice, but again something we find continually on menus throughout the region, and try to dodge for the rest of the trip.

After food we set off. We cross the river and hit our first hill. It goes on, and on, and on. We walk bits and ride bits. It’s a gorgeous day, hardly any cars on the road. We pass an old lady in pink who is pushing her bike up the hill. I giggle but pretty soon we are too!

Eventually, after not many kilometers at all but quite a lot of hills, we pile into Limeuil, one of “le plus beaux villages” or most beautiful villages in France. So like France to have an official list! The small village is certainly gorgeous, straggling up a cliff with a fortified chateau at the top, sitting at the confluence of the Dordogne and Vezere rivers.

We have already passed one campsite but I am convinced there must be one closer. I head off over the bridge, leaving Fabian to take photos in the evening light. And yes! There is was, right opposite the town with a fantastic view, a three star campsite. I wave back to Fabian from the bridge. He didn’t seem to be listening. Finally he rode over, munching something… a Magnum! Good grief.

After putting up our tent and flopping into the shower, we head back over the bridge to town to look for somewhere to eat. After wandering around the old town for a short while I am getting hungry, so we head back to the only open place we saw, a bar. There are not a lot of options in the town - the few signs to “restaurants” were all shut, clearly only serving lunch.

As we walk up to the bar one of the people outside gets up and gesticulates “closed, closed”. My jaw drops - surely we don’t have to starve tonight??! It turns out he only meant the bar was closed. For eating, there was an Italian restaurant up the road.

Thank God.

We headed up and ended up having one of the nicest meals of our trip! With a nice chardonnay, we downed some lovely salad (with artichokes!) and fresh pasta. Sated we stumbled back to our tent. On the way we saw a live hedgehog on the side of the road! (Hedgehogs are exciting for Australians). He froze when we wandered up but as we moved away he poked his head up to look around. It was most unusual seeing a night creature being so slow moving.

Wednesday

Night one in the tent. Not an enormous success. Fabian was up at dawn as discomfort drove him from the tent. He did take some nice photos though! We were both a bit tired and as we packed up some ducks waddled over. We were clearly in their patch as they stood around and quacked in an aggreived manner waiting for us to leave.

It’s hard to believe everything that was around actually fits back onto the bikes! Truly amazing.

We set off having had just some bread for breakfast. We decide that we must buy jam to make the bread into a proper breakfast. I’m a bit grumpy as we head off because of the lack of a decent breakfast. We have a quick look in Limeuil but there is nothing! A “most beautiful town” alright but there’s not actually anything in it. No shops or anything. And after last night’s close call re dinner I am a bit sensitive.

So although it is a gorgeous day, when we head off for the next town I get a bit annoyed on the first hill. Going up a hill on an empty stomach should not be allowed! Finally I calm down and we head into the town. Le Bugue - a real town! Shops and everything! Very pretty as well but at least it’s not an artificial reconstrution of a town that once was.

We descend on the little supermarket and buy fruit and a fantastic drink called Yop. It’s milk and yoghurt and a great way to get some calcium, in a country which basically doesn’t sell fresh milk. I never saw any in the little supermarkets, only preserved milk in tetra paks. Yoghurt is of course nice but a little inconvenient for the traveller to eat. But Yop is a drink. Very filling and convenient!

We also have coffee and (I) am feeling much better by this stage. We set off for stage two of the day. We reach Les Eyzies around lunchtime - the official start of our ride! On day three. That is a minor milestone. Lunch in another cafe, its starting to get quite hot today! We are finding it too cold to set off early in the morning so have gotten into habits of up late, off late, lunch late and arrive late. It’s not perfect but it suits the weather.

A note on our route. We are following a route we selected from the Lonely Planet’s Cycling France guide. We have followed one before and we found it very good. They have done all the hard work of finding pleasant cycling on back roads, canal paths and so on. Our second experience was just as good, but we didn’t cover each day according to the book.

After lunch we head off to Font de Gaume, a cave with prehistoric cave paintings. These paintings were made about 12 000 years ago by our ancestors, Cro Magnon man. They are full of pictures of bison, mainly, and occasionally horses. No small animals or humans, leading scholars to think the pictures have spiritual significance. Of course no one knows, but the theory seems reasonable.

The pictures are quite skilful and use perspective and the three dimensions of the rock quite well. At this cave we can actually see the original paintings, unlike many other caves where the original has been sealed off and only copies are visible. It was amazing standing in the cave which was a sanctuary for people 12 000 years ago. They lit it crudely with animal fat lamps. It was very atmospheric. I even understood some of the French of the tour leader!

I was thrilled by seeing the cave as the prehistoric art was one of the big reasons to come to the area. This is one of the few areas of the world with well-preserved signs of prehistoric life and I found it fascinating. I was really looking forward to Lascaux, the caves at Montignac with reportedly very impressive images.

We wanted to make some more distance in the afternoon, so headed off. I was getting better at the hills by now. It’s important really not to go at them too hard. I kind of sneak up on them, little by little, and then without them even noticing you get over them. It might take half an hour, but…

Passing flocks of geese and ducks and signs for “Foie gras” (ouch!) we pulled in at a Mexican ranch! Yes, a real live Mexican ranch, one of the most expensive places we stayed at. It was a three star with a heatet swimming pools. Just outside the hamlet of Tursac. Not exactly the endurance camping I had been expecting. Still, it was very comfortable and the menu was good value.

Thursday

Montignac! A real highlight of the trip. Luckily for us most of the road after Tursac was downhill! That was a nice change. Shortly we came upon a sight for the day - the Rock of St Christophe. This “abri” or natural shelter was amazing. In an incredibly lush bend of the river, there was basically an enormous rock ledge tens of metres above our heads. The ledge ran into the rock so it had a ceiling and a floor. It was deep enough to build buildings in, and very long, more than 200 metres.

We paid the entrance fee and read the guide in English we had borrowed from the desk. The Rock has been in use for thousands of years, it’s natural utility of shelter having been recognised by just about everybody. Neanderthals, Cro Magnon man all left traces. Humans in the early centuries after Christ built villages there. It was a fort in the Hundred years war between France and England. It was a home for Protestants after that, who buid entire villages out of stone up and down the cliff (there are multiple levels).

Unfortunately, none of that wonder is visible today as an angry king (a Catholic one) decided to obliterate the Protestants in the 1800s (I think). And then the archeologists went through and swept the place clean, so all that is left is memories and some rather cheesey reconstructions. Above the drawbridge there are knights about to drop rocks on your head, and in a kitchen are some neanderthals defending themselves against a bear. But even this can’t ruin the beauty and evocativeness of the place. It was a real highlight and I would thouroughly recommend it to anyone in the region.

Winding round the river Vezere we eventually teetered into Montignac. We felt a lot more chirpy after our previous night’s sleep in the hotel, so thought we’d have another go camping. Visiting the tourist offices there were tickets available for Lascaux that afternoon - why not? Knocking off the caves today made it possible to get away earlier the next day (a very good idea as it turned out). And the afternoon was warm… So we bought tickets, dropped our stuff off at the campground, and set off.

Once out of town, the caves themselves were up an enormous hillly driveway. We pushed the bikes up most of it. It wasn’t long but was very steep. Finally we made it and sacked out on a picnic bench to recover, before joining our timed tour group.

Another tour in French, another collection of half understood translated phrases whisperered to Fabian. Not to worry, the reconstruction itself is amazing. The original caves were becoming damaged by the number of visitors, so they closed them and a decade later opened a reconstruction of about 40 metres of the most painted bit.

First you go down the stairs and mill around in a couple of dark entrance halls with photos of people and explanations of how they made the caves (and the copy). Finally hot on the heels of the previous tour group (good money spinner this) we entered the “real” bit. It was amazing! Enormous bison, bulls, in reds, blacks, yellows danced all over the ceilings. Occasionally there was a horse, and at one point a human and a bird - a very rare painting.

It was incredible how much richer the colours were than Font de Gaume, the previous cave we had seen. If it is accurate, which I believe it is, then it is much better preserved. We oohed and aahed for the allotted time and I tried to understand her French about the significance of human and animal forms, geometric forms, etc. About all I really got was how impressed they all are with the painters, as they show quite realistic perspective, and they think it was done by a religous cult.

Shortly of course we shuffled out, our 20 minutes with magic over. We headed back to town - a lot more comfortable going down the hill - and dined at a pizzeria. It’s wonderful that it is light so late - we could cycle back to our campground in the light, after dinner. Only as we cleaned up for the night did it finally start to darken.

Friday - Sarlat-la-Caneda Today proves to be a test of our mettle. We set off feeling quite good. We follow the same route to the caves as yesterday, but skip the severe driveway. Our destination is Sarlat-la-Caneda, a pretty town with a famous market that is going to take place the next day, Saturday. It doesn’t look that far on the map, right?

Well, it depends if you mean as the crow flies or including ups and downs! This day ends up being our worst. We are following the Lonely Planet guide, but we don’t quite know what to make of “700 steep climb”, followed by “500m very steep climb”. Good grief! In fact the hills turn out to be hot and high. A combination of pushing and riding gets us up the first. It is very, very tiring pushing a fully laden touring bike, not something I would recommend. Of course, I console myself, when we are cycling in Europe properly we will be much fitter. Ho ho ho!

At the top of the first hill we have a life-sustaining chocolate eclair. (I didn’t say the lifestyle here was hard, just the hills!). Oh, and we sit down for about 30 minutes. I look at our map and get depressed. We have been cycling for about an hour and done about three kilometres, or something ridiculous. At this rate we wouldn’t hit Sarlat till midnight! But Fabian talks me out of my depression, as always, and we soldier on.

There is not much more to say about this day except that we saw a nice restaurant in the middle of nowhere, but it was full; we pushed our bikes up about six enormous hills; we took a short cut that ended up being steeper, but lacking a map with contour lines we couldn’t tell; and finally arriving in Sarlat, after a beer, the first three hotels were full. Of course, it was a triumph to arrive in Sarlat, even though the last 10km had been straight down the national highway! But the hotel situation could have been grim (the night before the famous market!) but actually it wasn’t a problem at all. We visited the tourist bureau and got a lovely room in a hotel in the main square, which would overlook the market the next day. We decided to stay two days to recover.

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