Day 8 - Sarlat

Day 8—Sunday, May 17, 1992

Arose about 8:15 a.m. and had breakfast at the hotel. During breakfast we discussed whether to stay another night at the Hotel Marcel, deciding finally to do so. Shortly thereafter we set off for Grotte de Font-de-Gaume, a cave near the town of Eyzies, less than ten miles from Sarlat.

Grotte de Font-de-Gaume is not just any cave, it is a cave with 19,000-year-old cave drawings, drawn by folks knows nowadays as Cro-Magnons. France is host to many such caves; however, many of them and particularly the best are closed to the public because of the potential for damage posed by hordes of tourists. We located Font-de-Gaume easily enough and bought tickets for the 11:00 tour, which gave us about a half hour to browse through the book store (Sharon bought a book on the cave) and lounge around. Then we took the tour. I can’t say I was wowed by the faint reddish-brown drawings of bison and other animals on the cave’s walls, but it was well worth the visit. Had the tour guide spoke English instead of French, we would have no doubt gotten more out of the experience. The cave itself may have been the most memorable aspect of our visit due to its very narrow passageways—this is not a place for claustrophobics.

Back on the road we drove around the area of France known as the Dordogne River Valley, driving as far as the town of Bergerac, where we hoped to visit a winery and a religious shrine. But both were closed on Sunday, and since Bergerac looked like a boring place, we turned around and headed back toward Sarlat. By this time I was beginning to feel the effects of a head cold, formerly Sharon’s head cold, now mine. We drove along the Dordogne River looking for a store to buy picnic supplies but failed to find such a place. Near the town of Lalinde we got a bit off course because of the confounding routing of Route D703, but soon realized our error, doubled back, and were once again driving alongside the river.

While driving along , we spotted a string of swans strung across the river and stopped to take a couple of photos and then moved on down the road to the village of Beynac. We parked the car and hoped to find a nice place to have lunch, but the main restaurant in town was full. We settled for a couple of Heineken beers, which we drank on a terrace overlooking the river. Beynac was beautiful, what with the lazy river flowing below and Chateau de Beynac towering high overhead. It was, however, mostly closed on Sunday. Had I felt better, I’m sure we would have either hiked up to the chateau or rented a canoe for a ride on the alluring Dordogne River. But I didn’t, so we didn’t. We used the quaint facilities, split a small quiche, walked along the river, and then got ready to move on. But not before a policeman made certain I put 2 francs in the parking meter and I bought a couple of beers for the road.

We entertained idea of driving to Rocamadour, a touristy town in this neck of the woods, but ended up just driving back to Sarlat. Driving to Sarlat was one thing, finding our hotel in this medieval maze of a town something else. Sharon drove around town at least three times looking for Hotel Marcel and I did two circuits before we finally found it.

Needless to say it felt good to be back at our hotel. On top of that we had a nice little surprise awaiting us in our room—a little white cat was curled up in a ball on a chair. Evidently le chat had climbed through the window and made himself at home. He was very friendly and he very much liked cheese. Although cheese it turned out didn’t like him. After palling around with le chat for awhile, I asked one of the hotel employees if the cat belonged to any of them. The employee informed me in French that it did not and instructed me in French to put the cat behind the building, which I did.

By this time, about 4:00 p.m., my head cold had sapped all my energy, so I took a nap. A four-hour nap. When I finally awoke, it was time for dinner. We ate at the hotel, feasting on a some rather peculiar dishes, including one Sharon ordered that featured octopus and a few unidentifiable sea creatures that she claimed were alive. All in all it was so-so, but there was a lot of it and it was memorable.

Following dinner we walked to the center of Sarlat for our first real look at this medieval town since we arrived, aside from our numerous forays driving in circles around it. We found a snack bar, purportedly fashioned after a tropical cafe, situated in the Place de la Liberte, the heart of the old town. We stopped and drank a few over-priced beers and enjoyed the view. It made me feel much better (physically if not economically). Then we walked around town a bit, got briefly lost, and headed back to our hotel. As for Sarlat, I never got a good feel for what the town offered. It seemed to be an enchanting place with a lot to see, but then again it may have been just a tourist trap.

So the day was put to rest as were most of the others with a beer or two, a little television, and so to bed.

HIGHLIGHT: Although I felt out of sorts at the time, I’ll go with lounging along the Dordogne River in the town of Beynac. Close seconds would be the cave drawings and le chat.

LOWLIGHT: My head cold.

NOTE: Chalk this one up as another in a string of hot, in this case very hot, dry days.

REFLECTIONS FROM 2020:

Having a cold, of course, sucks any time, but doubly so when traveling because you don’t want to miss out on the fun and adventure. The body, however, seems to find a way to recover much faster than normal, which is all remarkable because it’s put through so much more stress.

Perhaps in part due to my cold, this was a rather forgotten day. That may have also been due to the fact it was our second day in Sarlat. After spending hours pouring over photos on the internet, however, it started coming back to me.

It seems that every trip we’ve ever taken, we’ve run across at least one cat, who took an instant liking to Sharon. There’d be at least one more before this trip was over. This cat, as well as our hotel room, can be seen in a video clip I shot.