Michael

<i>There isn't a kitchen at Castelnaud as far as I know.</i>

It must have been temporary. From my 2007 trip report:

"Castelnaud is not as hokey as I feared and is more than a medieval war museum; it has some extensive explanations on the medieval kitchen and its ingredients, but no translations"

sap

Thanks for the further details, Stu. It's targeted for next weekend & Phil will definitely appreciate the info about Weimax, as well.

I'm bummed and intrigued about the cabécou, St. Cirq. It'll be at the top of the next Dordogne agenda.

To clean up the kitchen conflict, I did check Castlenaud's website. There is apparently une cuisine there, Michael. I don't know why it didn't make an impression on us, though the photo they show does begin to ring a faint bell. Per the site: "La cuisine - La voûte nervurée et le dallage ont été restaurés d’après des fragments restés en place. Une grande cheminée a été aménagée avec son petit four à pain. Dans une ancienne armoire murale sont exposés deux seaux du XVIe siècle qui proviennent du puits de la haute-cour." Here's the link to the brochure. http://www.castelnaud.com/fr/guide.pdf

sap

That would be "CastELnaud." (My fingers have a mind of their own.)

uhoh_busted

I remember a cuisine there too. I think I may even have a picture. I thought Castelnaud was a really well done "attraction" even if there were not extensive english language signs, there seemed to be enough for me.

We're still thinking of a three month trip to France and doing one month in the the Dordogne, and two in Languedoc-Roussillon.

StuDudley

>>We're still thinking of a three month trip to France and doing one month in the the Dordogne, and two in Languedoc-Roussillon.<<

I would consider staying in 3 different locations in the Lauguedoc. It is pretty spread out. Only 1 location in the Dordogne is fine.

Now is about the time to find your gite & reserve it for 2012. We've reserved 3 gites for next year.

Here is something I wrote a while ago about renting through Gites-de-France. We've rented 45 gites through them.
http://www.fodors.com/community/euro...e-web-site.cfm.

sap - Weimax is closed on Sunday. Check to see if K&L is closed on Sunday also.

Stu Dudley

Michael

Granted that the Périgord noir is the primary destination for tourists, but if a guidebook piques your interest in Brantôme and its surrounding area, 2 different stays in the Dordogne might be preferable. Périgueux could also be included in this second stay.

http://www.flickr.com/photos/mksfca/...82383670/show/

http://www.flickr.com/photos/mksfca/...7623221148969/

StuDudley

>>I'm bummed and intrigued about the cabécou, St. Cirq. It'll be at the top of the next Dordogne agenda.<<

No need to go to the Dordogne - it is produced & sold here in the San Francisco Bay Area.

http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/articl...FDRU1KPP7D.DTL

Stu Dudley

Michael

<i>it is produced & sold here in the San Francisco Bay Area.</i>

Not quite the same since the cabecou in the Dordogne that I've eaten was not packed in olive oil.

StCirq

Never seen cabécou in olive oil before, but it's probably still delicious. In the Dordogne you buy it frais, demi-sec, or sec; I like it frais.

Still can't ever remember seeing a kitchen at Castelnaud. Oh well.

sap

DORDOGNE DAY 4 - VÉZÈRE VALLEY ROAD
Tuesday 6/28/11

Sometimes I lead. Sometimes I follow. I'm not usually the kind to just put up my sail and wait for the wind to blow. But some days are made simply for watching and wondering. For loosening your grip and cruising slow.

Tuesday dawned beautiful and blissfully cooler. Our spirits were high and we were ready to hit the road. Fifteen miles and half an hour later, we were in Le Bugue for the weekly morning market. Joe begged off and stayed in the car to sleep while we walked across the bridge to browse the stalls.

Le Bugue is the southern gateway to the Vézère Valley, where evolution rocked man's cradle and art was born so many thousand years ago. It's a nice little town, inhabited since prehistoric days and later organized around a 10th century monastery, but once we had our bread and olives, our focus was further north.

We drove from Le Bugue a few miles up to the village of Les-Eyzies-de-Tayac only to find that the Museum of National Prehistory is closed on Tuesdays (gasp - a research error on my part). This was a disappointment, but Les-Eyzies was worth a stop anyway for coffee and photos of the 13th century fortress that now houses the museum. Restored in the 16th century, the converted castle still seems impossibly embedded deep in the swollen, black-streaked cliff above the village like a golden raisin peeking through a loaf of burnt bread.

It was only 11 a.m. and we had a dilemma. Our reserved tickets for the Grotte de Font-de-Gaume were for the 1:00 p.m. tour. Our afternoon destinations were a bit further north, but there wasn't enough time to see everything and come back. "Oh well, so we make the loop more than once," shrugged Phil. "It's only a few miles away, no big deal. We fit in a site, come back to the cave and head up again." Normally, I would be bothered by such illogical backtracking, but I was in a mellow mood, too. The Perigord is the kind of place that seems to call for a more relaxed pace. I echoed his shrug, climbed in the car and we drove slowly through the woods up the Vézère Valley road, pulling over for the impatient French drivers so we could enjoy the scenery.

The D796 winds through farmland, forests and meadows divided by cliffs over 200 feet high. It seems that nearly every hollow in the limestone was a human habitat, shelter or sanctuary from prehistory through the Wars of Religion. The first migrants came from the north during the Second Ice Age and their debris slowly accumulated for tens of thousands of years. This ancient trash heap has been an amazing source of anthropological treasure hunting since the 19th century as an interest developed in Cro-Magnon, the first modern man. More than 200 deposits have been revealed in the Dordogne and studies of them have led to the identification of two important Paleolithic time frames: the Mousterian and the Magdalenian. The entire valley is now a UNESCO World Heritage Site and contains 147 known prehistoric sites and 25 painted caves, including the famous Lascaux. I've been interested in anthropology and archaeology since I was 12 years old and started pulling my dad's old college textbooks off the shelf, so it was a happy day for me just being there.

We soon turned right down the D66 toward La Roque-Saint-Christophe, exchanging exclamations as we passed under the carved rock face. This is a truly fascinating site -- a more sophisticated French version of Mesa Verde. There are some 100 caves hollowed in the limestone cliff on four terraces. Families lived here at the Rock of St. Christopher from the Upper Paleolithic Age (Mousterian through Magdalenian) to the Wars of Religion. An entire fortified village with hundreds of residents was first developed in the 10th century to protect against all manner of enemies over the years, beginning with the Viking invasions and continuing through the Hundred Years' War until it was destroyed during the Wars of Religion.

The site has now been partially reconstructed and there are several replicas of actual archaeological discoveries, as well as other props. The numerous metal rings embedded in the stone walls are intriguing as their original purpose is not entirely known. The pulley systems, anchors, stairs, bank vault and chapel are all very interesting. I also remember liking the kitchen, with ovens and chimneys still extant. While the wooden houses themselves are of course gone, traces of the bridges, ladders and trap doors remain. En toto, the preservation and displays are all quite well done except for the cheesy cave man fighting off the bear, which looks like a castoff from a 1970s children's theme park. The cost was 7.50€ for us and 4.50€ for Joe. We were probably there about an hour on an unguided visit. The views are also worthwhile as the cliffs rise 262 feet above a gorgeous riparian setting of shady foliage, moss, meadows and sparkling water.

We had a great time exploring the old foundations, but we weren't able to wander alone for very long. The crowds started increasing not too much later and it was time to head back down the old valley road.

On the way up the valley, we had passed the "Des Granges Goose Farm" near Tursac. When we saw it again, we asked Phil to stop for pictures. He stated flat out, "I refuse to take a picture of a goose unless it's on my plate," so Joe and I got out with the camera and walked across the road. There must have been hundreds of the silly creatures honking curiously and Joe was thrilled when they came up to him looking for handouts. When we got back in the car a few minutes later, Phil gunned the engine a little louder than intended and shot out of the small lot opposite the fence as the wheels spun in the dirt. The blind spot around the corner prevented a clear view of oncoming traffic, so he had to move quickly.

When he made the sharp, gravel-spewing left turn, the frantic flock apparently thought he was aiming straight for them. They fled in a squawking mass panic as fast as they could waddle. The split-second chaos combined with the look of sheer terror in their eyes was absolutely hilarious. We were still laughing and making jokes about the future batch of spoiled foie gras by the time we turned into the Font-de-Gaume lot. My apologies to the Carbonnière family for any post-traumatic stress their birds may have endured following the vision of Mathilda bearing down on them. http://www.elevagedesgranges.com/index.html

We were early for the cave tour and climbed up the steep hill to wait on the bench. Like all the caves and cliff dwellings we saw here, its location is part of its charm. Only 200 visitors are allowed each day, so I had booked in advance over the Internet and paid by fax. It was only 7€ apiece and free for Joe. While it was well worth that, I was in all honesty ever-so-slightly disappointed. The Michelin Green Guide calls the discoveries at Font-de-Gaume "the finest group of known polychrome paintings in France" after Lascaux, but it is our humble opinion that the spotted horses at Pech Merle are better. (Lascaux II, Les Combarelles and other caves remain a goal for future trips.) This is not to say that we didn't find the paintings interesting, especially the frieze of bison discovered in 1966 and the fact that outlines of the horses, bison, reindeer and mammoths were carved into the rock before the paint was added. This is one of the only reasons you can still see some of the work.

The prehistoric art at Font-de-Gaume was discovered by a schoolteacher in 1901, but it may be only a matter of time before the cave is closed to the public like Lascaux. Knowing this does make the tour seem more special. I'm also intrigued by the fact that they found actual artists' materials in the cave, including pigments, painting sticks and stone palettes.

In retrospect, I think three things detracted from our visit that afternoon. First, the paintings are of course disappearing, plus many are hidden behind increasing layers of calcite, so they are difficult to see without the aid of the tour guide's laser pointer. Out of the 250 known paintings in this cave, only 30 are now available to the public. The wall with superimposed paintings is fascinating because it was a deliberate recreation of perspective and movement created by one artist, but the animals are difficult to discern. There are also those strange red dots again, which I am so curious about. Overall, though, the posters, postcards and books in the visitor's center are frankly better depictions of the work than what you can see with your "bare" eyes. I wonder if many of those photos were taken with ultraviolet/infrared cameras. The beautiful copies of the paintings as drawn by Henri Breuil in the early 20th century are also a vast improvement over the current state of the real thing after the wear-and-tear over thousands of years. His work truly recreated and "preserved" the cave's fading beauty. Like many historical sites, this is more about what it was, what it means in the whole scheme of things, rather than what you see today. I can accept that.

Additionally, the guide at Font-de-Gaume was not the most inspiring man. He seemed slightly bored and distracted. While it was the English tour and he spoke excellent English as he delivered his practiced spiel, he didn't seem to understand the language that well on a practical level. Several times, others in the group asked questions, but he could never seem to answer them and would instead go on to discuss something unrelated. This is a minor point, but I think it was another reason I liked Pech Merle more, despite the fact that it had been a French tour.

Finally, Phil has admitted that he does prefer the cave formations themselves over the prehistoric art and Font-de-Gaume is not known for stalactites and stalagmites. The small entrance and narrow, winding passages are pretty cool, but there isn't much to see besides the paintings once you enter. Though Joe and I happened to like all the caves we visited, this does mean that Font-de-Gaume wasn't fully three thumbs up.

Ah, but now our lunch was calling and so we drove back up the old valley road. I had visions of picnicking by the Vézère River at the village of Saint Léon about eight miles north. We passed the goose farm again. They seemed to have recovered.

St-Léon-sur-Vézère is as pretty as its lilting name. With a population of less than 500, it deserves its status as one of Les Plus Beaux villages. We parked near the 12th century Romanesque church; then walked along the park-like river bank until we found a picnic bench perfectly situated under the willows. We spent at least an hour in that sweet, green spot, relaxing in the shade, watching a fisherman down on the bank, people canoeing on the river and a handful of patrons up at a cafe on the edge of town. In turn, we were watched by a brave little chickadee that would occasionally hop onto the table and steal a crumb. He was too quick for the camera, though we repeatedly tried to lure him.

When we decided to move again, we strolled circuitously back to the car to get a feel for the place. The village was very sleepy that afternoon, but still picturesque. It's certainly a far cry from the summer activity in the more popular villages further south along the Dordogne. It might be an ideal base for that reason alone. The houses themselves are charming, the color of warm honey with cinnamon-toast roofs. Many of them are brightened with pots of flowers and fences covered with vines. There are at least two or three restaurants, plus the small, privately-owned medieval Chateau Clérans. It's very cute, complete with pointy little black-slate towers.

There is a local legend that I rather like: An Occitan inscription on a small chapel in the cemetery supposedly memorializes a 13th century servant named Monsieur Brome who pierced the crucifix at the cemetery's entrance with an arrow, then dropped dead with his head twisted around like Linda Blair. The story is that he was exhumed in 1890 and, sure enough, the blasphemer's skeleton had its skull on backwards.

The afternoon was rolling on and we had one more stop to make; so we headed back down the Vézère Valley road.

Our next adventure was the highlight of the day, but we almost didn't make it. Chateau de Commarque is practically a secret compared to other sites in the area. It has no address and the signs are rather scarce even when you're looking for them. We knew it was near the town of Sireiul. We knew it was in a side valley called the Beune near a prehistoric site called Cap Blanc, but Helen the GPS didn't seem to have a clue. We felt like Hansel & Gretel looking for crumbs. Just when we were about to give up, we spotted a sign and followed it to a small road ending in an empty parking lot. From there, we walked 1/3 of a mile or so through the forest and across a stream to the ruined chateau at the edge of a field in the middle of nowhere. It was incredibly beautiful.

This remote and romantic site still felt abandoned to us. There couldn't have been more than two or three other people clambering around. Once upon a time a medieval village grew up around the foot of the castle here, wedged into a rocky shelf that had previously been a prehistoric shelter. The cave under the castle has carvings, but it's not open to the public. The fortress wall, houses and chateau have been dated from the 10th through the 16th centuries. It is thought that it was originally owned by the Abbots of Sarlat from the Commarque family, who left it in the control of a knightly relative, the first Lord of Commarque. It was then taken over by the feudal Beynac family, who lost and regained the place more than once over the generations. The English seized it for a time during the Hundred Years' War and the Catholics nearly destroyed it during the Wars of Religion. The castle was abandoned by the 18th century, buried under dirt, covered by the forest and forgotten.

Then the story gets even better. The site had been uncovered and rediscovered by archaeologists looking for prehistoric sites in the region. In 1968, a descendant of the Commarques named Hubert bought the ruins and has been faithfully, determinedly restoring his ancestors' castle. The bulk of the current restoration began in 1994. I believe it's managed by the same guy who runs Castelnaud and Marqueyssac, Kleber Rossillon.

We paid 6.40€ for us and €3.20 for Joe and then worked our way up the site from the bottom of the hill toward the chateau. The chapel walls, open to the sky, are particularly eerie and atmospheric. By the time we climbed the spiral stairs to the main tower, the afternoon light had vastly improved for photography. The views over to the private castle of Chateau de Laussel on the hill across the valley add to the romance. It's worth the precarious feeling as you stand still, trying to balance on the crumbling edge against the wind. Joe was already picking his way back down through the ruins, but Phil and I stood there for some time on top of the castle, looking into the long, lonesome distance. There was nothing but silence in the ancient valley. It was quite literally a peak experience.

Commarque has been listed as a national historical monument and it will take many years of archeological work. I would love to return after a time to see what new old things have been discovered, but I hope it is never overdeveloped or commercialized. Being lost in the woods of a prehistoric valley is the secret to its charm.

We walked slowly back through the forest as if under a spell. I know that I was reluctant to leave this place, this moment, this day. The whole Vézère Valley is worth much more than just a pass-through on the way to something else.

Oh yes, it was such a fine day that I'd go back tomorrow. There is so much I still want to see. Someday we'll come 'round again the slow way and explore every path off this old valley road.

http://share.shutterfly.com/action/w...0CctnDVu1bs2I1

Michael

<i>the cheesy cave man fighting off the bear,</i>

I could not figure this one out either, since most of the exhibits emphasize the occupation during the Middle Ages.

jean253

ttt

TDudette

Truly amazing area, report and photos.

taconictraveler

This is just so good, I am amazed!! We leave in 17 days for Paris and the Dordogne. Your history alone is worth great praise!!

sap

Sorry for the delay! I was under the weather for several days and then spent several more catching up on work & life. I just can't seem to shake this bug. At any rate, I will endeavor to wrap up the remainder of the trip before my memory loses touch with the experience.

By the way Stu, we visited the Gourmet Corner and Weimax last Saturday & liked both. I drooled in front of the truffle case for a minute, but refrained as I still have to put a couple more kids through college. We did buy a trio of magrets, though I haven't yet decided how to cook them. I'm considering something with plums and Armagnac. Any favorite recipes?

The proprietor of Weimax was gruff but obviously knows his stuff. We bought some Gigondas, considered the Cahors and found a Chateau St. Jean at a good price in the bargain bin. We may return for a mixed case before Thanksgiving as we usually have a lot of wine drinkers tromping through our house during the holidays.

sap

DORDOGNE DAY 5 - WITHIN THESE WALLS
Wednesday 6/29/11

A ghost and white roses. An ancient mill. Revenge, inspiration and enterprise made for an interesting day.

It was a soft, breezy morning when we arrived at the old castle on St. Martin's Hill where wildflowers lined the path. We were once again in the small Beune valley. The Chateau de Puymartin is still home to nobles. The Comte Xavier de Montbron and his mother, Nicole, inherited the property when his father, Henri, died in 2002. It has been in and out of their family's hands for 500 years.

The original 13th century castle was built, like Commarque, by the Abbots of Sarlat, but the village at it skirts has disappeared. The chateau was badly damaged in 1357 during the Hundred Years' War. The current Comte de Montbron's ancestor, Radulphe de Saint-Clar, then laid claim to the abandoned fortress in 1450 and he and his family rebuilt it during the 15th and 16th siècles. Radulphe's grandson, Raymond, called himself Capitaine de Puymartin and led the war against the Huguenots in Sarlat.

We paid 7€ each for us and 5€ for Joe at the gate near the parking lot, then walked past the wildflowers up to the castle entrance near the chapel. We were fairly sure it was supposed to be a guided tour, but there was no sign of a guide. In France, things are rarely instructed or explained. They assume you'll either know or ask. While I appreciate the lack of nannyish coddling, it does sometimes lead to uncertainty.

After several minutes, a large party of very elderly French people descended the stairs and made their way slowly out to their bus. A middle-aged man puffed past us, trying to direct the confused, meandering crowd. I assumed he was the group's tour bus director and paid him no attention. Fifteen minutes later, there was not a soul was in sight, so we tentatively climbed the stairs, stood on the Cour de St. Louis terrace and peeked into the Great Hall.

Suddenly, the man I thought was the tour bus director came huffing back up the stairs, perspiration beading his forehead. "No, no!" he exclaimed as we stood on the threshold. When we turned around in surprise, he smiled, smacked his forehead with his hand and began to apologize profusely. He was so sorry, but those old folks had simply taken forever and he was way behind schedule. A French family had come up the stairs behind the guide and so we all proceeded with an excellent tour in a rapid combination of French and English. No introductions were given. It was only later we learned that our guide was in fact the Comte Xavier de Montbron himself.

We climbed the winding spiral staircase to a green bedchamber with beautiful tapestries on the walls. Off of this room is the small Cabinet Mythologique with paneled walls of egg tempera paintings depicting scenes from Greek mythology. Classified as historical treasures, they are in the rare "grisailles" style which consists of monochromatic shades of black and white using charcoal and lime. The paintings date back to the 17th century, but the original nudes in the scenes were dressed with painted clothes in an ignorant fit of prudishness by one of the 19th century owners. It is clear that Comte de Montbron now values these works very much. He is concerned about the water damage and mold that has begun to erode the paintings over the years. Entering the room, he took of his shoes and slid his feet on cloths to protect the wood beneath. I suppose it's not practical for him to ask guests to do the same, but I nevertheless tread gingerly on the obviously delicate old floor.

We were next brought back to the 17th century Great Hall aka the Room of Honor, a large dining room containing beautiful antique walnut furniture passed down through the family, six prized Flemish tapestries with scenes from the Trojan War and an 18th century Aubusson tapestry. Portraits of the family's ancestors also line the walls and the Count discussed many of them, but never once mentioned the fact that that he is their descendant. Above one of the fireplaces is a painting of Chronos, the god of time, pulling Aphrodite and Eros in a chariot. It is an allegory of the French proverb, "Love makes time pass. Time makes love pass."

Back up the spiral stairs, we climbed into one of the castle towers. The Count opened the door into a barren white room with crumbling plaster and lowered his voice to a mysterious, sinister tone. Here time passed all too slowly for one lost soul whose lonely life outlived her love by many long, dark years.

The chateau's most famous, tragic tale is rooted in the 16th century, when Raymond de Saint-Clar's son Jean was master of the castle. Jean came home somewhat unexpectedly from a battle during the Wars of Religion and surprised his wife Therese in the arms of her lover. Rather than murdering them both on the spot, he instead decided to torture his bride. He locked the lady up in this tower room, then had her unlucky lover hung from a tree in sight of the window.

Jean's ego must have suffered acutely from his wife's gossamer fidelity as his heart turned to stone colder than the walls of the tower prison. He continued in his role of avenger for 15 years, keeping the pathetic Therese permanently locked in the tiny room, instructing that she be fed only from a trap door in the ceiling. Can you imagine how deeply that lady must have regretted the primitive impulses of the human heart? She died within these four walls, resigned to unimaginable despair.

Out of some cruel perversity, Jean heaped more indignity upon Therese's corpse. Insisting that such a woman did not deserve a proper tomb, he walled her up in the room that had already been her living catacomb. One can imagine him blocking up the hole, brick by brick, muttering "Nemo me impune lacessite," like Poe's mad Montresor.

Legend has it that Therese now haunts Puymartin as La Dame Blanche, floating around the upper stories of the castle near her prison walls in a white gown, still seeking forgiveness and escape. Comte de Montbron gestured expansively around the room like an actor on a stage. His voice rose and fell with drama as he told the ghost story and I had to bite my lip to keep from giggling. This was obviously his favorite part of the tour, but his antics were more cute than frightening.

Two centuries after Therese was buried within these walls, another Jean de Saint Clar fought over the chateau for 40 years with his sister Suzanne. The lady apparently won that round, but her descendants soon abandoned the property anyway. Like many other chateaux in the region during the 18th century, Puymartin was affected by the crumbling of the feudal system and the rise of the bourgeoisie.

Within a few generations, the noble families of the Perigord had intermarried and exchanged their more or less dwindling fortunes to discreetly survive beyond the Revolution. In the 19th century, a man with the mouthful moniker of Marquis Marc Roffignac de Carbonnier de Marzac recovered his ancestor's Chateau de Puymartin and launched a significant restoration in a Neo-Gothic style. His daughter, Marie-Therese, married the Comte Jacques de Montbrun and the Comte Xavier de Montbron who led our tour is in turn his grandson.

To finish the tour, Comte de Montbron led us up to the attic (le grenier) where he spent a great deal of time discussing the Perigordian lauze roof. It is steeply pitched and stacked with schist stone tiles called lauzes that break easily into pieces. Many of the roofs in the region have been replaced by clay or slate tiles, so seeing Puymartin's roof up close under the eaves was rather interesting. The lauze averages 120 lbs. per square foot and there is no mortar between them.

We had originally planned to have lunch at La Vieille Auberge in Saint Genies, but they had canceled the reservation a couple of weeks before we left home, saying they would not be open that day after all. I kept the little village on the list anyway as the descriptions I had read sounded so promising.

We had no trouble finding Saint Genies, but the town parking lot was completely empty. So was the town. It was just past noon on this Wednesday, yet every restaurant was closed. Not only were the business shuttered, but the houses were dark and quiet. It was as if every last citizen had mysteriously vanished. I knew they must have been hidden somewhere behind the walls, but not a single light or sound came from within. The streets were deserted. It was the most ghostly village we'd yet encountered. There wasn't even the ubiquitous cat lurking in a corner. We tiptoed cautiously under the shadows of the castle and Gothic chapel, looking for signs of life to no avail. The silence remained unbroken. The towers stood like sentinels over the creamy medieval houses in their Cinderella slumber and not even a breeze disturbed the air.

Feeling more spooked by this Twilight Zone town than we had in La Dame Blanche's chamber, we hurried back to the car to search elsewhere for lunch. Phil opted to skip the next couple of villages on my tentative list (St-Crepin and Carlucet) and we instead headed straight for Les Jardins du Manor d'Eyrignac where I knew a restaurant would be open.

This was another over-the-river and through-the-woods kind of place. By the time we found Eyrignac half an hour later, Joe's stomach was grumbling audibly and Phil's blood sugar was dropping at an alarming pace. (If I had anything to do over during this trip, I would definitely be more conscientious about keeping snacks on hand in the car.) Fortunately, there was one table left at the restaurant and the food was quite good. The rose sorbet really set my mood for the gardens waiting outside the window.

After paying 9.50€ each for us and 4€ for Joe, we stepped into the geometric green space and immediately felt a sense of tranquility. The gardens at Eyrignac are designed as a pattern of themed outdoor rooms, separated by walls, columns and garlands of greenery; staggered on varying levels; and accented with pools, statuary and Asian-inspired elements such as red-lacquered arches and benches. It reminded us very much of the delightful Hidcote Manor Gardens in the English Cotswolds. Both gardens make one feel like Alice in Wonderland, encountering little surprises around every corner that make one curiouser and curiouser.

We enjoyed every inch of the gardens, planted only in blue, white and yellow flowers to offset the vibrant green background. However, our favorite features included the hornbeam walk, the formal French parterres and, most of all, the new White Garden with its creamy roses and pools rimmed with spouting bronze frogs. The manoir itself is not open to the public as it remains the family's home.

Les Jardins at Eyrignac were originally planted in the 18th century around the 17th century manor built by the current owner's ancestors. (The first medieval castle had been burned to the ground by the Prince of Condé during a civil war against Cardinal Mazarin's supporters called the War of the Fronde.) It was an ideal site for a verdant oasis due to seven natural springs. First designed in an Italian style, the features of the gardens were altered as the years progressed to reflect changing fashions, such as English Romanticism. After a long period of neglect, a descendant named Gilles Sermadiras began renovating the site 40 years ago to restore it back to the Franco-Italian style we see today. The reward of this modern effort has been the gardens' classification as a national monument, open to the public since 1987. Gille's son, Patrick, now seems to be doing a bang-up job maintaining and developing his father's work and honoring the inheritance that has been passed through his family through 22 generations. It is a beautiful, romantic and inspiring place.

I was sorry to come to the end of our garden explorations and reluctant to leave, but we had one more stop to make on the way back to Beynac. There is no way we would have found the old mill without the cantankerous Helen and even she seemed to lead us on an indirect path down too many dusty side roads.

Near the little village of Ste. Nathalene, the Moulin de la Tour has been using the power of the River Enea for over 150 years. The family who owns it now has been operating the mill for three generations since 1946, producing walnut, hazelnut and almond oils using ancient machinery. We felt it was worth the 4.40€ each for such a unique experience. Oils, mustards and vinegars are also available for tasting in the sales room at the end of the tour.

The excellent guide conducted the tour by splitting his time between the group's French and English speakers. The archaic production process was fun to watch. The oak channel wheel, powered by a waterfall, triggers the other machines. A crank on the wall controls the water flow. Entering the production room is like a step back in time. The movement of gears, shafts and wheels fills the small space with constant movement, while the low beamed ceiling lends a claustrophobic air.

A nut is really a fruit, of course, whose outer tissues have hardened into an inedible, protective wall. Two grinding stones to the right of the production room entrance crush the nuts for 45 minutes to break the fruit from this wall. Then water is added to make a paste that is then poured into a cast iron cauldron.

As the guide raised his voice to be heard above the machinery, I focused on the heater near my elbow where a shaft stirred the walnut paste in the cauldron while the mixture was being warmed for another quarter of an hour by flames licking up from the wooden furnace at its base. This increases the color and flavor of the product, though it can easily burn if left too long. When locals bring their own nuts here for processing, they can specify how intense to make the oil.

On the far side of the room is the press where the liquid is separated from the paste. The final process is a two-week decantation to allow the sediments to settle before bottling the clarified oil on top. The leftover solids (meal) from the press are used for nut flours and animal feed.

Leaving the mill, we took a longer route along the Dordogne River to see the Cingle de Montfort, a bend in the river with views of the picturesque Chateau de Montfort. I cannot for the life of me imagine why the castle is named for the man who sacked and burned it in 1214. Further down the river toward "home," I at last succeeded in convincing Phil to stop for a picture of one of the beautiful sunflower fields we had been passing every day.

After the mill's humming heat, it was pleasant to be back in our haven at Le Petite Maison within the hour, where we spent the rest of the evening relaxing within the private oasis of its cool, stone walls. It had been a fascinating day, but we were ready to simply chill.

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klondike

Enjoying your report immensely!

nwtraveler

Hi sap

I am really enjoying your reports, especially the history part. You have given me many ideas on places and things to see when I travel to the same areas next year. Could you please list the books or resources that you used to read and study about the places and areas you visited? Having that kind of background information as I am traveling would be great.

I hope you are all better soon.

sap

Thanks, klondike!

Ha-ha, nwtraveler - that's a tall order as I am a research junkie, history nut and voracious reader. My travel notes are a totally tangled amalgamation of fact and anecdote gathering. I'll see if I can take a stab at answering your question, though.

The Internet is, of course, the best source because of the depth and breadth of possibilities at one's fingertips instantaneously. The problem is that some sites may not be 100% trustworthy in terms of facts. If a town or site has its own official web page, it makes the planning much easier and would likely be more accurate. After a few weeks of initial research, I found that I could more or less read enough French to interpret sites that didn't have English options. Basically, I just googled the heck out of any village, site or historical fact that picqued my interest, but here's a list of sites I frequented in addition to Fodor's:

http://www.francethisway.com/regions.php

http://france-for-visitors.com/index.html

http://www.les-plus-beaux-villages-de-france.org/en

http://www.theluberon.com/VILLAGES/b...x/bonnieux.htm

http://provence-hideaway.com/

http://www.beyond.fr/

http://www.travelguideprovence.com/

http://www.provenceweb.fr/e/provpil.htm

http://www.france4families.com/Regions.htm

http://www.frenchentree.com/

http://www.slowtrav.com/france/index.asp

http://www.thewinedoctor.com/

As for guidebooks, my favorites are the Michelin Green Guides, which are the only guides I actually bought. I prefer Cadogan for the history. Unfortunately, my library doesn't carry Cadogan. The regional guides I borrowed from the library included Lonely Planet, Fodor's, The Rough Guides, Frommer's, DK Eyewitness and Rick Steves. I copied the pertinent pages and also visited all of the guidebooks' websites. I actually didn't end up taking any guidebooks or copies with me, though, as I wanted to save space. I just brought my notes on the trip.

Fodorite Stu Dudley's guides to all the regions I visited (which he will e-mail upon request) were probably the second most useful source after the Green Guides, which he himself has relied upon for years.

Other sources were Michael Busselle's "Discovering the Villages of France," Freda White's "The Three Rivers of France," Ina Caro's "The Road from the Past: Traveling through History in France", Barbara Tuchman's "A Distant Mirror: The Calamitous 14th Century", Alistair Horne's "La Belle France" and several history books I already own covering the Hundred Years' War, etc. Additionally, we already own Will Durant's entire "Story of Civilization" collection. I know there were multiple other books whose titles have slipped my mind. Plus, I have a dozen more books on France I still plan to read in the next year or so - mostly straight history or historical fiction.

I am sure I also checked out every book I could find at the library related to Paris, Provence, the Lot and the Dordogne with respect to restaurants, shops, geography and walking routes. I also poured over numerous French cookbooks and spent hours in the kitchen to increase my appreciation and techniques of that incredible cuisine. (I had originally planned to do more cooking in our rental places, but was often too tired at the end of the day.)

My husband also majored in European History in college and knows quite a bit about the French Revolution, so he was a source, as well.

While writing the trip report back at home, I have pulled all my notes and then gone back to the drawing boards mentioned above for more info, to check facts, flesh things out, etc.

We spent 18 months planning, a month on the ground and over two months writing the report and sorting through photos. While that would be seriously ridiculous overkill for most people, it's a big part of the joy of travel for us (well, mainly me). I think of it as a personal (nearly) two-year course of cultural immersion. It also helps me feed the need for travel in between trips as we cannot on a practical level go to Europe more than once every three years until we retire.

I do like the idea of focusing for a long period of time on a few regions in one country. It has worked for me several times in the past and I think I will continue to do that in all my future years of travel.

Happy Planning!

FrenchMystiqueTours

sap - This is really hard for me to do but I'm going to try to be serious for a minute (because I couldn't last any longer). This is some finely crafted travel writing you have put down here that is very worthy of publication. Despite what you might think I enjoy it very much. I especially liked the part about the Comte giving the tour and not even letting on as to who he was. Normally I wouldn't spend too much time myself wondering about the importance of the decorative items in a château but your appreciation of them made me feel so ashamed of myself. Okay time's up, did you ask the Comte any important questions like does the ghost look kind of like Casper the Friendly Ghost or more like one of those scary Poltergeist ones?