Tag: Dordogne

Red Kytes and Polychrome Bulls: Visiting Lascaux

Ice Age Horses

A bit longer in Perigueux, with a chance to visit its museums, would have been nice. However, we had tickets to see the famous paleolithic art of Lascaux. Plus we had to be in Paris that evening. So, after a quick breakfast, we packed up and hit the road.

Auroch

I had longed to see Lascaux when I was a young archaeology student. Impossible then when gourmet macaroni and cheese was high living. Now, I’ve long forgotten the professors who taught me, and much of what I learned about the palaeolithic – it’s been a while – but Lascaux stuck with me.

Someone, or a bunch of people, have called Lascaux the “Sistine Chapel of Paleolithic Art”. I’m not sure why it isn’t the other way round, chronologically-speaking, but anyway. Certainly, the paintings are remarkable. And there are others. The Karst bluffs along the Vézère are famous for their caverns. Many were occupied on and off over the last 40 000 years or so of the last ice age. Amazing place!

Red Kytes

We arrived on a perfect day, sunny and mild, with a slight breeze. A few dozen migrating Red Kytes, and what looked like a Booted Eagle or two, kettled over low, heavily-treed hills, drifting west on shifting thermals. My real camera having just decided to give up the ghost a day or two back, I had to depend on my phone – not at all ideal for bird photography.

The Limestone Hills of the Vézère Valley

A warm day like this would have been rare when the cave walls were painted. It was the last ice age, after all, when giant deer, aurochs, wild horses, rhinos, and mammoths roamed the neighbourhood. The portraits of such beasts adorn the cavern walls. Were they created for magical purposes, or otherwise? Nobody can say. Europe was quite Arctic-like then. Inside a cavern probably wasn’t a bad place to be. So, there’s that.

With the cavern-riddled hills as a backdrop, the buildings containing the exhibits overlook the pleasant village of Montignac.We couldn’t see the actual caverns of course. These were closed to the CO2-breathing public many years ago. Instead we see exact re-creations of important galleries. And they certainly seem perfect, even down to the smell of cold stone. Or perhaps I was imagining that. A subconscious childhood memory maybe from when I explored the limestone caves in the cliffs surrounding the town where I lived. I once scratched my name on the cold stone. Maybe I painted a picture of a deer too, maybe.

These paintings are terrific – powerful, realistic representations of ice-age beasts. They are dated to the Solutrean, or Magdelanian. The aesthetic seems consistent with that of the beautiful, cunningly-flaked, leaf-shaped projectile points from the period. Beautiful things they are too!

My student attempt to flintknap a Solutrean Point. Not very good,I suppose, but, the right shape. Trying to replicate artifacts teaches archaeology students something about the methods and skills of the tool-makers.

Ice Age Beasts and Mysterious Markings. The artist (s) obviously ‘played’ with images, as with the antlers on this deer.

As to the significance and purpose of cave art. Who knows? Seventeen thousand years is a long time, and, as David Lowenthal once pointed out, “The Past is a foreign country; they do things differently there.”

While the paintings are indeed spectacular, the object that fascinated me most was a small, red-stone lamp. Easy enough to miss, but charming too.

I like to think that the person who made and used this lamp made some of the pictures too. Thinking about that actually gave me a bit of a shiver. I was seeing, in that humble artifact, the hand and mind of a long-dead, working artist, and, in a way, communicating with them.

Lamp

Indeed, it is the small accidents of survival that can, in a flash, bridge the millennia between oneself and a maker – the slip of the brush, the thumbprint in the clay, the misplaced notch on the spear shaft. They blur time and cause it to slide a bit. Suddenly, an age or two seems like nothing at all. The small, casually-dropped things, the trivial artifacts, often have more emotional power than the famous, colossal, historic monuments. Not that I won’t go look at those too!

Périgueux: The Dordogne

Isle River Bank – Local Inhabitant

Our next stop should have been Paris, but Paris on May Day seemed an even worse option than Bordeaux. Instead we leapt (figuratively speaking) at the chance to spend a couple of nights in the old pilgrim town of Périgueux in the Dordogne – famous for its medieval streets and massive cathedral. Bordeaux was great, but birding there, well…

Saint Front Cathedral in Périgueux

Périgueux is on the banks of the River Isle in the heart of the Périgord, home of foie gras, black truffles, and duck confit. A number of authors have set books here and in the region, including Michael Crichton. Martin Walker too, with his enjoyable Bruno mysteries.

The massive Romanesque Saint Front cathedral dominates the medieval core of the town, which has a history going back to pre-Roman Gaul and beyond. The museum here is reportedly quite good.

The prehistoric cave paintings at Lascaux, also, are not far away. They date back 17,000 years or so. More about those in my next post.

Périgueux Architecture

Unfortunately, most restaurants and shops in Périgueux were closed both days – this being Sunday, followed by May Day – as were the Gallo-Roman and Military Museums. Drat!

Still, the cool afternoon was pleasant; the streets narrow and interesting. We had to limit ourselves to window shopping. Probably just as well. They do seem to sell some nice stuff.

We stopped for charcuterie at an outdoor cafe, one of the few places open, but whose name neither of us can remember. The glass of champagne here surprisingly inexpensive, nicely complimenting the generous platter of cured meats and the cheeses.

With not much else to do but enjoy the slightly breezy afternoon, we lingered with glasses of Bergerac, the local wine. Bergerac is under an hour away from here.

The red seemed rather like a Bordeaux, but softer – more Merlot in this blend, I think; the white crisp and aromatic Sauvignon Blanc, exactly what V. likes best. No sign here of Cyrano however.

Sunday in Périgueux

The Isle is a pleasant, unhurried river with treed banks down to the water, and a paved walkway. Aside from a couple of early morning strollers, and a dog walker or two, there was no traffic to disturb the many small birds singing and calling from the thickets.

My Merlin app confirmed nineteen species, from European Pied Flycatcher to Common Chiffchaff.

Hearing birds was easy, spotting them was almost impossible. At one point, I half-slid down on bank trying to get a better look at the Pied Flycatchers, and almost ended up in the drink. That would have been embarrassing. Would I have remembered how to say, “throw me a line!” in French? I doubt it.

The Flycatchers are pretty little black and white birds, and new to me. Very active, and, in the thick foliage, almost impossible to photograph.

The River Isle in Early May

So…I’m going to say, Chiffchaff.

The valley of the river also has its share of parks, walks, and historic sites, including chateaux. Driving through the area was quite pleasant. Lots of limestone.

I have mixed feelings about chateaux, although they’re pretty impressive. But who got exploited here when the aristos built and managed the place, I wonder? That’s the Liverpool in me talking. Sorry.

Chateau Puyguilheme

With a bit of imagination, one can people the turrets and galleries with imaginary musketeers, courtly ladies, and Cardinal Richelieu. The period is right, I think, for this place – 16th century. Still, it’s lovely and quiet today. Renaissance architecture, it has been renovated by the French state. Closed when we visited.