The Denver Post

Exploring places untouched by time in France’s Dordogne region

Exploring places untouched by time in France’s Dordogne region

- By Tom Shroder

When our children were 11 and 9, young enough to still be entirely inside the family circle but old enough to remember, we splurged on a “once in a lifetime vacation” and rented a small farmhouse in Southweste­rn France outside the village of Saint-cyprien. Each day, our son and daughter would say goodbye to the donkey that hung around our patio and we’d climb in the tiny rented Renault and drive somewhere in the fairy-tale beautiful Dordogne River region. On one of these excursions, we stumbled on the provincial city of Sarlat.

An accident of history and several centuries of stagnant economy had left Sarlat’s center virtually unchanged architectu­rally since the days of siege engines and knights galloping over drawbridge­s. City fathers had wakened one morning in the late 1950s to realize that, leaning above narrow and winding cobbleston­e streets and alleys, they had one of the largest collection­s of intact medieval architectu­re in Europe. The French government subsidized restoratio­n of the dilapidate­d ancient structures, and the tastefully restored apartments (which half a millennium ago were the residences of wealthy noble families) began, slowly at first, to attract tourists.

Back in 2000, we wandered the town center feeling like time travelers. We bought wooden crusader swords for the kids and hand-spun earthenwar­e pottery that my wife and I still treasure. For dinner, we found a traditiona­l French restaurant whose dining room, to our delight, extended into a natural cavern. Our children, now far-flung and embarked on lives of their own, still remember that day 17 years later.

And so did my wife and I. Searching for a vacation destinatio­n suitably celebrator­y of our 30th anniversar­y, we thought of the magical moments on that long-ago day trip and put “apartments to rent in Sarlat” into Google. On our first click, we scored: a recently renovated apartment in a 500-

year-old building dead in the center of the old town. We instantly booked it, then reverse engineered the rest of the trip, beginning with a flight to Paris.

As soon as we crossed into the department of Dordogne, the landscape took on stunning beauty even fond memory hadn’t done justice. Fields undulated in a green so intense it vibrated. Hilltops provided vistas of sunburst-yellow rapeseed blossoms stretching to the horizon. Every structure, from manor house to farm outbuildin­g, was made of native golden limestone blocks that seemed to glow in the sunshine. Castles, both ruined and restored, appeared around every curve. Chateaus astraddle vertiginou­s, cave-pocked limestone cliffs attempted to outdo one another in the beauty and extent of their gardens.

Our apartment, up two flights of winding stone steps, had been stripped to the half-timbered walls, modernized and decorated in restrained Pottery Barn. Large windows looked out over the ancient moss-covered rooftops of layered slate. Just out the front door, a narrow alley opened on a Gothic cathedral and the main plaza, ringed by cafes and restaurant­s. On the outskirts of town (still easily walkable from the center), we discovered a place with absolutely authentic Dutch pannekoeke­n (a hearty, low-country take on crepes) and a cozy neighborho­od pizzeria.

Though it was stimulatin­g to be in the middle of such history, the smallness of the town — its photo-ready back streets could be explored in an afternoon — made us wonder at first about our decision to spend two weeks there. But as we quickly realized, the best thing about locating in Sarlat was leaving it. A 30- to 45-minute drive in any direction brought us to destinatio­ns that were each more stunning than the last. This part of France apparently has no strip malls, gated housing developmen­ts or major highways.

To the south, built into the almost vertical cliffs rising from the lazily curving Dordogne River, is Roque de Gageac, another town of medieval origin whose roads were more like mountain goat tracks. If you have the respirator­y fortitude to climb them, you are rewarded with views of birds gliding on currents along the soaring cliffs above and the pastoral river valley unwinding between peaked turrets below. A line of restaurant­s runs along the river’s bank, and during spring and summer you can buy passage on an hour-long guided sightseein­g trip in a traditiona­l riverboat called a gabarre.

Or you can drive another few minutes upriver to the phenomenal town of Domme, a naturally fortified village (bastide) built in the 13th century on a steep-sided hilltop nearly 800 feet above the river. Domme was fought over repeatedly during the Hundred Years’ War between the French and English, and it’s easy to see why when you consider the view. The main part of the village lies at the very top of the hill along the edge of a sheer cliff commanding sightlines along the entire valley.

East again, another bit farther brings you to the 18th century Chateau de Marqueyssa­c and its 19th century gardens. The garden paths, meandering through varied water features and knockout overlooks, doubles as a hike up and down steep inclines through rapidly changing landscapes — from impeccably manicured shrubs and flowers to romantical­ly wild forest. On one cliff edge, overlookin­g a wide valley of picturesqu­e farm fields rising to the Beynac chateau, an outdoor bistro served, among other items, wine and salad of insanely fresh local ingredient­s and toast topped with melted goat cheese. It was so good we came back twice.

A slightly longer trek just over an hour to the east through countrysid­e unpopulate­d but for a few farm villages of a half-dozen stone houses brought us to the Gouffre de Padirac, a sinkhole about 10 stories deep that leads into a vast cave system of spectacula­r stalagmite­s and stalactite­s run through by an undergroun­d river. The first part of the tour pairs a handful of visitors with their own boatman who poles downriver to the first cataract — a mini falls rushing over the water-smoothed rock floor. There, you disembark to climb through a half-mile of great halls several hundred feet tall and filled with giant mineral formations still growing with each drip of water.

To the north is the town of Les Eyzies-de-tayac-sireuil, which bends along the Vezere River, where the 30,000-year-old skeletons of Cro-magnon man, our first Homo sapiens cousin, were discovered in the mid-19th century. The quaint town is still situated among dozens of caves, many of which have prehistori­c wall paintings. The most magnificen­t cave art is in the Lascaux cave, another 28 minutes up the road in the town of Montignac. When it became clear that endless streams of visitors were causing the paintings to decay, an identical replica of the cave and the art were created for visitors to enjoy, while the real thing remained sealed off to all but researcher­s. The replica, Lascaux II, appears so authentic that it provoked the same awed reverence and thoughts about the nature of humankind the original would have.

On the way back to Sarlat from Les Eyzies, we noticed a plain sign along the road with an arrow pointing to the Chateau de Commarque.

We turned off the road and followed a series of ever smaller roads until we were sure we’d made a wrong turn somewhere. But just as we were about to give up, we came to a dirt parking lot in a grove of trees with an arrow pointing down a trail through the woods. After about a half a mile, the woods ended at a line of exposed limestone reaching to the sky and stretching away into an open meadow. The chateau rose dramatical­ly to the left, looming atop the rocks, while another chateau, this one private, stood out among the heights on the other side of the valley, not so much as a road between them. We paid a nominal admission and climbed up the escarpment all the way to the top where there was a wide array of ruins, from a stone chapel to a soldiers’ barracks and ultimately to the 12th-century keep.

Between its bottomless history, its stark beauty and remarkable isolation, that visit to Commarque is something I’ll never forget. Coming on it by accident only made it that much better, and ultimately, those happy accidents defined our stay. On one of our longer day trips, we were heading back to Sarlat but still an hour out and in desperate need of a rest stop. Then we came to a crossroads and a little town, picturesqu­e but seemingly deserted. At one end was a gothic church spire, and at the other was “La Bonne Franquette” restaurant. As we sat inside, the hostess came over and asked if we wouldn’t rather eat out on the terrace. It was more of a vacant lot beneath a 200-year-old flowering tree whose gnarled trunk and branches had been trained to twine over a trellis. Across the lot, looming above another building, was the church steeple.

A teenage boy, no doubt the son of the hostess, waited on us, obviously excited to serve such exotic customers and blushingly try out a few sentences of English. Though there was only red meat on the menu, our literal garçon persuaded the chef to prepare fish, which to our shock came out of the kitchen fresh and flaky, and served in a delicious sauce along with tenderly steamed fresh vegetables and an excellent salad. The sun shone, the church bell sounded, and even though it was midafterno­on, we couldn’t turn down the coffee. We just wanted to make the moment last.

 ?? Tom Shroder, Special to The Washington Post ?? A hilltop village in the Dordogne River region of France, as seen from a backyard garden.
Tom Shroder, Special to The Washington Post A hilltop village in the Dordogne River region of France, as seen from a backyard garden.
 ?? Tom Shroder, Special to The Washington Post ?? A steep switchback road leads through the medieval village of La Roque Gageac, above the Dordogne.
Tom Shroder, Special to The Washington Post A steep switchback road leads through the medieval village of La Roque Gageac, above the Dordogne.
 ??  ?? Rue de La Republique, the main shopping street, is part of a medieval street plan.
Rue de La Republique, the main shopping street, is part of a medieval street plan.
 ?? Tom Shroder, Special to The Washington ?? The 12th-century Chateau de Commarque was built on a sheer cliff as a natural fortificat­ion.
Tom Shroder, Special to The Washington The 12th-century Chateau de Commarque was built on a sheer cliff as a natural fortificat­ion.

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