Dallying in the Dordogne

Our route southeast towards the Med would take us through the Dordogne, somewhere we’d stayed before on Aires a couple of times overnight, but never really stopped to take in the lushness of the river and the nearby attractions, of which there are so many! 

Enjoying some baking hot weather as we drove, Mrs B had suggested a visit to the Marqueyssac gardens near La Roque Gageac, where we’d stopped overnight at the riverside Aire some years ago. With campsites a-plenty in the area, we lucked out with one right on the river, Camping La Plage, right at the foot of the gardens, located on the bluff, 130m above us.

With one of the Pass’Étapes Aires right at the entrance (heaving and right by the road) and near full occupancy on the site (we arrived late afternoon on a Friday), we were lucky to nab a pitch with plenty of shade and spectacular views towards the small village of Beynac and within site of the river racing past in full flood! This explained the crazy speed of the normally languid gabares tourist boats as they plied their trade on the section of river.

We were told we could move to a riverside plot if we wanted when one became vacant, but after the first night of serenading by some particularly vocal frogs, decided we liked it just where we were!

And as we settled down for that first evening, watching the sun arc through the sky towards the gardens, we were treated to some hot air balloons from the nearby Montgolfier centre drifting towards us and over the gardens! (We were not quite so appreciative at dawn the next day however, as the roar of the gas burners overhead woke us from our post frog-song slumbers!).

With a lovely pool on site, we somehow managed to delay our trip to the gardens until Sunday, when we fancied a slow stroll across the nearby farmland rather than traipse along the main road. The fields were chock full of insect life with loads of butterflies (a bit too nimble for Mr B to capture on film!) and we wondered whether the particular farmer had a more eco-friendly approach to insecticides than much of the farmland near us back at home. The track ran pretty much parallel to the gardens above us and when we paused to look up, we could see tiny people looking down at us from the viewpoints…

…it took us a good 45 minutes before we were able to become a couple of those tiny people ourselves, and with temperatures hovering around 30c, we were glad of the garden’s shade!

Based in the grounds of an old Château and dominating the bluff for several kilometres, the gardens are a fascinating mixture of very formal settings, with neatly clipped box hedging, relaxing into a less formal layout with some lovely quirky ‘installations’, as well as spectacular views (including looking down on our campsite!) In the same family since 1692, but only opened to the public in 1996 we were fortunate to be able to wander round with only a few other people. When we got to the end though, we saw that, it being a Sunday and lunchtime, the locals were better organised and had just started their visit early, leaving their tables as we arrived. Lucky for us then, or we would have had lunch standing up!

The far end of the gardens is given over to a more relaxed layout, with avenues of trees and some interesting art…

Lunch in the Château proved to be a test of resisting temptation, as one of the specialities was an enormous range of alcohol-infused ice creams… Sticking to a regional take on cheese on toast (with lardons and potato) we enjoyed our view out of the window over the plains to the north, girding our loins for the trek home.

We had read that the Château had an unusually steep roof, weighing 500 tonnes, but it was only when we wandered out after lunch to the north side, that we could appreciate just how steep, and given that it is made up of layers of cut stone, why it weighed in so heavy! And Mr B finally got his turn with the parasol…

The walk back took us past some interesting plants we’d not seen before…

and with the sun now casting a different light, allowed us to see the barley/wheat fields in (literally) a different light.

Back at the site we had time to unwind and watch the last gabares of the day labour their way back against the strong current as they returned to La Roque Gageac. We’d taken a ride on one of these years ago, never anticipating that one day we’d be snapping them from a riverside campsite!

With the frogs choosing not to serenade us every night (apparently they are largely responsible for the good mosquito control at the site, so deserved some time off!) it was with some reluctance that we headed off after a few days, under yet another blazing sun and blue sky.

Was this maybe the beginning of an unusual endless summer in la belle France?

S&J