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French Sabbatical
1. Setting It Up
2. The Preview
3. French Christmas
4. Univ. of Rouen
5. Parents Visit
6. 2 Weeks in Paris
7. Spring Sights
8. 1st Week- Périgord
9. 2nd Week- Périgord
10. Adv. in Brittany
11. 1st Week- Alps
12. 2nd Week- Alps
13. England & Home
14. They Visit Us
15. Other Visits

Master of Arts in Counseling Psychology ("MAC")

8. First Week in the Périgord

Alone again, and with the Univ. of Rouen now out for the summer, we were able to explore other parts of France.

Gloria Martin, a faculty member at St. Martin's College, had recently purchased a house in the Périgord region to the south. We had previously agreed with them to trade two weeks in our apartment in Le Havre for two weeks in their house in Le Castang.

We left Le Havre later than we had hoped. As we went up the hill by the Tanquerville Bridge, we found ourselves behind a tanker truck that was leaking liquid. We thought it was water -- it was oil! Suddenly, we were out of control and spinning sideways into the on-coming traffic at 80 mph! It was a scary moment; we would certainly have been killed had the tires not grabbed again. We were drenched with oil but we were okay. At the next gas station the attendant washed the windshield with gasoline and we were able to continue our trip.

We made a detour to see the world-famous Cathedral of Chartres and another to see a 200-year old windmill at Moutiers. On one of the smaller highways, a truck threw up a large stone that was so big that we could even see it coming! It landed directly in front of me at chest height creating a crater the size of a silver dollar. It was another blessing that the safety glass held.

As we drew further south, we passed towns, castles and ancient Roman bridges that literally drew gasps and cries of. "Look here!" "Look there!" "Oh, look to the left!" What a beautiful area of the country we were driving into! We arrived at the Martin's just after 7:00 at night. Le Castang, too small to even merit the name of "village," had a population of 16! But their house, which dated back to the 1700s was incredible. The photo at the top is their lovely French house (with the back of our little French car).

The Périgord is rich in beautiful, interesting things to see and we saw many of them. Our first stop was the Château de Losse, which was literally just down the road to the river and to the left. In fact, one can't drive to the Martin's house without seeing the Château just a little further down the road. As you can see, it's a very beautiful Renaissance château on the bank of the Vézère River.

Then we drove to Montignac to go through the "Eugène Le Roy" museum. I wanted to read his intrigue novel, Jacquou le Croquant and wanted some background on Le Roy.

Two miles from their house were the prehistoric cave paintings of Lascaux and the "Le Thot, Center of Prehistory" learning center. Le Thot had the same kinds of bison, elk, and other animals that the prehistoric cave men had painted on the walls of Lascaux untold thousands of years ago. But they also had displays of cavemen in huts among the trees. There was even an animated "woolly mammoth" that would lift its leg and roar across the compound. The Lascaux caves were discovered in 1940 by four boys looking for their dog. To avoid humidity by the thousands of tourists, the French government actually built a reproduction of the original and it was really "Lascaux II" that we saw. There were many more brightly-colored cave paintings than we had expected. The one above is an example. The boys were so fascinated that they later read Le Mystère de la Grotte, a French novel about the discovery of the caves.

We also saw the marvels along the Vézère River. We got an early start by driving down to the magnificent town of St. Léon-sur-Vézère. The whole family was running back and forth suggesting angles to photograph the white cliffs and gorgeous greens reflected in the flowing water. "Look! From here you can get that old wooden boat under the weeping willow!" "…Here! You can get a reflection of the old church!" It was great fun.

Then, on to la Roque St. Christophe, the remains of a prehistoric, Neanderthal town built into the vertical cliff-side. Again, we marveled at how fascinated our two young teens were with museum-type displays.

"Look! There's a sign that said, 'Le Panorama.' Let's follow that!" Well, the small road became a smaller road. And, as we climbed up the side of a hill, the smaller road became a gravel road. And the gravel road became a dirt road. "Er, Godfrey, don't you think we should turn back?" The dirt road became twin ruts with grass in between, and then, "Dad, there's no dirt under our tires." Soon, we were pushing aside tree branches and rolling over tall weeds and small bushes. But, at least we were heading downhill! The kids were loving it — Merry was less thrilled. We ended up on the other side of the hill back in les Eyzies-de-Tayac. We drove down a narrow road and found ourselves in a charming spot under an arched bridge and next to the Hôtel du Vieux Moulin (they still had a working water-mill). For the price of four Oranginas, we picnicked in the hotel gardens at a round table with two brooks running along both sides of the garden.

Not far from town was the Grotte du Grand Roc, a series of small caves with curious stalactites and stalagmites all around us.

Many of them were rare and unusual because of how fine and fragile they were. "That was excellent!" said 15-year-old Braden.

Well, there’s no way I have space to tell you in detail all we saw: the time I drove down a tractor lane in the middle of a corn field to get a good angle on a beautiful white château; the climb to the red sandstone of Collange la Rouge, nor the Padirac Chasm - a gigantic open-air pit leading to a series of caves hollowed out by a subterranean river running 13 miles below the countryside. We went half a mile by flat-bottomed boat to see marvelous stalagmites.

I wish I could tell you about Rocamadour (to the left) - a Catholic, Benedictine, pilgrimage site 216 stone steps the penitent would climb on his knees. It dated from 300 years before Joan of Arc was even born. And all this was just our first week!

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