Epic Journey Part Deux

I have had the good opportunity to travel over a good portion of this earth and have done most of it on a whim, a lets see what is over there approach. It was impossible to be late or to miss anything on the agenda and therefore a worry free approach. But, time has become ever so precious and my wanderings have become restricted as I’ve become part of the American dream. So this time I spent months researching and reading, pouring over maps and travel guides to make sure we wouldn’t miss a thing and know the last 30,000 years of history we were to trek through. But like life, travel is largely dictated by the unpredictable and even the best plans can be laid to waste in an instant. It is at that moment that you must decide what is more important, the plan or the experience?

Early Departure Colmar

On our way from Colmar to Brive La Gaillarde we had to change trains in Paris (a town I despised before this trip), which required us to drag our 120lbs of gear through the metro system. This is where our trip itinerary begins to derail and shows us how good of team we truly are. I manage to violate every travel rule I have and place all my money, ID and credit cards in the same wallet and then make a lovely target for some nice professional thief. Halfway between Paris Est and Paris Austerlitz, a pick-pocket gets me and now I’m broke and can’t prove whom I am, or that I’m in the country legally. We talk with police (who are polite enough not to laugh) and they say we can make our next train and file the report when we get to Brive, so we get lunch and continue on. We could have fought, or argued, or let it ruin our trip, but we didn’t. Instead of marriage counseling, I think each couple contemplating marriage should have to travel together in a foreign land to test compatibility. Trust me, you will know if you are going to deal with life’s up and downs together after missing few meals while running to catch trains. Arriving in Brive we check in to the first hotel we come across and quietly relax on the street side terrace and enjoy the peaceful sounds of funny French police sirens as they conduct a high-speed car chase around the city that ends just up the street from us. It is one of those surreal moments of why travel is so grand, even when things don’t go your way. 

Stone barn typical of the region near Veyrac

Our tiny tent in Veyrac, first night near the river

Planning travel has two sides, what is stated in guidebooks and forums and then what people state on the ground behind bulletproof glass. Our plan was to transfer to the remote Cele River from Brive, but the kind station attendant informed us this is impossible without a very expensive taxi ride or renting a car. We looked at the map and simply shifted our destination to the Upper Dordogne River and a village called Veyrac that we were originally going to skip and sent our travel plan up in smoke. Again, what is important, to have fun and see new things or fret over what didn’t happen? Holly (my wife) is much better at the latter than I am, and I finally took a page out of her book and accepted that we weren’t going to have the trip we planed, but would have the trip we were on. If there was ever a moment my wife had a reason to curse me, it was when we stepped off the train in Veyrac and were greeted by nothing but a closed rail station now occupied by an old woman and her laundry. So there we are with 120lbs of gear, in the beating sun and nothing around but an unmarked road, she loves me, she loves me not. I voted that we turn right and started down that road a couple hundred meters until Holly vetoed the direction and we turned around and finally came to a sign saying my wife was correct. We only had 2 kilometers to go until the campground, but the sign didn’t state the campground was closed for the season. So we trekked down to the closed campground utterly exhausted from hauling the gear in the sun, but saints be praised there is a taxi number and another open campground 4 kilometers down the same road. Our taxi dropped us off at our campground that happened to be located right on the Dordogne and even had a pool. We finally made it to the river, just not where we thought we’d be. Unfortunately there was nowhere to get dinner; even walking a couple miles looking for a place didn’t help. Well, we were truly off the beaten track and like most Americans could stand to miss a couple meals. Fortunately the campground had a fresh bread delivery in the morning so we could start our journey in proper French fashion with a croissant. 

Private chateau along the Dordogne

Over the summer at home in Alaska we had taken our Aire Super Lynx inflatable kayak out on numerous excursions, but hadn’t run any swift rivers with it yet. The Dordogne is a fairly lazy river but is punctuated by class II sections on the upper portion and the low water levels meant we had to thread many a tight spot just so we didn’t get stuck. Hats off to Aire on this design, we took a couple whitewater sections sideways and never came close to capsizing. Stress, trains, thieves, agendas, all started to melt away into the lush limestone valley. Large fish swam along us in gin clear water as sheer white cliffs sprang up vertically on every bank. We stopped at a roadside café for lunch as were treated ourselves to a massive traditional three course Perigoird region lunch, fresh salad, fruit, foix grois, then roasted duck leg and potatoes roasted in duck fat, followed by goat cheese and bread. Rural France (most of France for that matter) operates without serve safe rules, so if you are squeamish about people handling your food with latex gloves—look away. Also, their hours of operation are 9is till noonish, then around 2 till maybe 6 or 7. Unlike us, I believe the French rule the clock; the clock doesn’t seem to dictate their life and what a life it is. Enjoy, relax, talk with everyone, and don’t worry about the cat in the dining room or the dogs lying under every table. We happily adapted to the French countryside and since our schedule was shot anyway, we resolved to paddle as much as we wanted, and carry our own picnic pack (ham, cheese, baguettes, Bordeaux, chocolate, etc) so that we could observe the strict code of not carrying what time it was and enjoy the countryside.

Our Aire Super Lynx and all our gear we carried from Alaska

A gift left for a friend in St. Sozy.

We arrived in St. Sozy in the early afternoon to find the campground all but deserted as mid September is closing time for most tourist locations along the Dordogne, but any inconvenience was easily out weighed by the absence of the crowds. We had the river to ourselves most days, and become perturbed if we had to share our section with another canoe and interrupt our daydreams. St. Sozy is an idyllic sleepy village nestled in the foothills along the Dordogne River. It’s not a town in guidebooks, and doesn’t have castles and grand cathedrals, but was one of the most charming villages we visited. Unlike the tourist traps, it was lived in; all the 400-year-old stone homes had stone and tile roofs along with the trappings of modern life. We awoke to a cold morning and a heavy fog on the river that added to the feeling of being in a timeless land that has seen people wander for the last 40,000 years. Quiet, unhurried, this was the France that we had come for, also the campground hosts had fresh bread and coffee ready for us, as we were the only guests for breakfast staff outnumbered us by 2 to 1, not bad for $30(campsite and breakfast for two). 

Cathedral in St. Sozy

It felt like reaching back in time on the upper Dordogne River.

Limestone cliffs shine during twilight down river from St. Sozy

Doing laundry on the paddles at Soleil Plage Campground

Exploring caves

  We let the fog clear and continued on with our picnic pack full and our itinerary wide open. The river was wide and clear with fish and more shear limestone walls riddled with caves rising on both banks. This was the Dordogne of legend the place that inspired some of the first artwork man has ever created. We lunched on large limestone outcropping in the river polished smooth by the eons of water rushing over it. This day was worth it, all the stress and headaches, this was why we came to France, to bask in the sun and explore a land that has 30 centuries of history hiding around each luscious bend in the river. We made it to Soulliac and enjoyed a nice night out in the historic city center, and replenished our picnic pack for another day. Our next leg on the river was more reminiscent of paddling through Minnesota than prehistoric canyons. The sheer limestone cliffs gave way to gentle rolling hills and farmland.  Our swift Dordogne was replaced by almost still water for long stretches. 

Boats being built above the Dordogne in caves just as they have been done for thousands of years.

Due to lack of signage we missed our intended stop of Lacave so we paddled on until coming to an oasis in the backcountry. Soleil Plage campground is a 4 star campground complete with water-park and fine dining. It’s a tough life but somebody has to do it. From now on we were in the land of Castles on the Dordogne, during the 100 years war between England and France this was the front line. Each river crossing was battled for and subsequently had a castle defending it on each side of the river. 

Chateau de Montfort is a private residence built in 1214 but has been destroyed and rebuilt at least 4 times since then.