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Drifting in France - Part 3

"Good thing we didn't come by car?" said Martine.

We took some pictures and then we continued, soon arriving at Sarlat and opting for the now familiar tactic: follow the signs to downtown [ Centre ville ] then to the tourist office. If you're ever lost in France, do this. There's a tourist office in almost every town. There you can get the help you need, in English. As we arrived, we could see this medieval town was spotless. Its buildings made with tan / light peach colored stones, contributed to the pleasant feeling of a well cared tourist town. The deeper we went the narrower the streets became, until we cruised at 20 mph in second on cobblestone roads where businesses of all sorts awaited clients. We advanced with the rhythmic pulses on the engine reverberating on the ancient walls like a muffled drum call of an impeding execution ... pure pleasure ... I was mesmerized, first time I saw anything like this.

Carefully steering around pedestrians we arrived to the tourist office where a mountain of information awaited: maps, brochures, and lists of hotels and bed & breakfasts ( Gites in French). From there to the main road to get a drink and plan the next move. After a few calls we decided on a gite close to us, a mere 200 yards, that offered secure parking for the bike, all this in the middle of a medieval town.

We found the place. It was a mansion, with towers and all, hidden behind a big stone wall. An affable, diminutive, old man with a spotless white mustache and young eyes, welcomed us: Monsieur Charbonnier. We followed this amiable character up the tower's stairs into a big room with 7 foot windows, a fireplace and some very old furniture, including a small table with a mirror, used by the ladies to do their make-up, this one so old, it still had candle holders. The bathroom, equally big, had three 7 foot windows, a very old sink, a big bathtub, and a bidet, all with ancient brass fittings. There was no shower. "Rich people took baths in those days," explained my wife.

This was marvelous, yours truly, "El Bruto," was going to sleep like the nobles, on top of that I could sit on "the throne" while looking at a medieval cathedral a mere 150 yards away, through one of the huge windows of the bathroom. All that for the price of an average hotel room.

200 yards away, lay the garage for the motorcycle. Once the bike was secured, we left to see the town. Hard to describe the feeling of walking in such a place, "just like in the movies" seems appropriate. One thing I loved was the convoluted little passages -- some big enough for two pedestrians -- that separated some of the houses, and the designs of the facades.

We stopped for a beer, then explored some more, finishing the night in a pizzeria, where we ate very well sitting outside overlooking a plaza with ... a medieval fountain.

Back at the gite, once I overcame the fear that someone may have committed suicide in it, I took a great, relaxing bath in the enormous bathtub.

The smell of toasted bread and coffee woke us up the next day. Needing no further incentive to get out of bed, we got ready and went downstairs to the breakfast room. This was a medium size room crowded with old, elegant furniture, old decorations and a big heavy table where breakfast awaited us. We were the only clients this morning. Mr Charbonnier comes in, greets us and hands me a heavy medieval weapon. My wife explains it's not a weapon but a silver coffee pot. The thing is ancient, heavy, elegant and with a big wooden straight handle coming out at 90 degrees to the spout. Serving coffee with this takes some practice.

We enjoy the breakfast and the conversation with Mr Charbonnier. I secretly enjoy the old silver breakfast utensils and the porcelain cups. It's supposed to be a great day, once the thick heavy fog burns off. For the time being we try to exit the city without incident, destination: The Beynac Castle some 10 miles away.

We follow a great blacktop road that twists through a forest then joins the river's edge, very similar to riding in the Appalachian mountains early on a autumn morning. The fog had not yet lifted when we arrive in the sleepy medieval village. I stop in front of a cafe to warm up a bit. We savor the good espressos as we try to warm up in the cozy cafe, then we get back on the bike to try to take a look around, but we don't get far.

The village is small, and most roads are for pedestrians or too steep for a motorcycle. Steep, that's the word. One thing you should learn by heart is that medieval castles were military installations, and as such, they built them in nearly inaccessible areas, this one on top of a steep hill next to the river. I was puffing and panting as I went up carrying my helmet, and wondered how they managed to carry all those stones up the hill to build the castle. The views get better and better as we climb and as the fog lifts.

We negotiate the twisted narrow roads taking pictures and looking at details. Despite people living here, there's hardly anyone on the street. Finally the castle, and in front of it, a bistro! I decide on the bistro, but Martine keeps exploring. A friendly waitress sits me on the terrace in front of the castle's entrance and I order an ice cream cup. Some time after, Martine returns. She doesn't want anything. She's in a hurry to enter the castle. As we exit, a different woman is behind the bar and I shout, "I already paid the pretty girl."

"I am the only pretty 'round here," she answers, and demands instant payment. The lady at the castle entrance offers to keep our helmets, we pay and go in. Amazing stuff. This is a medium size castle, its construction started in the 12th century, and it is in great condition, just like you see in the movies. In fact, this one has been used to shoot several movies. I sarcastically point out at all the effort dispensed to build such a fortress just to keep out the riff-raff and now for 7.50 I get to come in and walk around like a grand seigneur. Thank the revolution for that one I guess.

I will spare you the history of the castle, those interested should Google Beynac castle. I will just say that this place is up my sleeves. I already visited other castles, more palaces than anything else, Versailles, Chambord, Chennonceau, to name a few, those where luxurious accommodations for the nobles, this one is a war machine, Spartan, purposeful, cool as hell. Even the entrance to the kitchen has a draw bridge! The highest point for me was standing on the observation tower overlooking the valley, the river and the village. The view was breathtaking, there was a straight drop to the river a long way down there. I could stay here all day, but we had other things to see and the good weather was not going to be around for long.

We exited the castle after about two hours and returned to the bistro. The same waitress was there and I announced I had just been Knighted in the castle, that I demanded her best table and a Royal discount.

"I'll give you a Royal something! Sit here. That should be good enough for you." she answered.

And that's how a great lunch started, in company of the witty waitress, two ladies from Holland and blue skies.

Back down at the river's bank, we prepared to leave, next destination: La Roque Cageac, a mere 7 miles away.

After a short, but picturesque, ride, we arrive. This village is on the list of most beautiful towns in France, and she certainly is beautiful, sitting at the bottom of a steep cliff right on the bank of a river, whose lazy waters reflect the scenery. Viewed from the right angle, it's a perfect postcard.

We parked, dismounted, and walked to the river's edge. It was a great sunny afternoon. There we stood, observing in silence the sleepy village that would have been quite at home in a Walt Disney children's fantasy film.

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