June 10th to 19th: The Dordogne

We have often visited this lovely area of France, with its rolling hills, wide rivers and ancient towns. This time we are near Gourdon, 15 miles south of the river Dordogne.
Our first trip out was to visit a cave system with prehistoric wall paintings. Ok, some were on the ceiling. There are many such caves in this area and the one we visited at Pech-Merle contained some of the best artwork. An example is given below, and is my photo of a photo: it was a guided tour with cameras banned, understandably.

The painting really did look as vibrant as this- notice the hand outlines as well. It has been carbon dated at 24,600 years old. The oldest known illustration is about 32,000 years old in another cave not far away, and is another photo of a photo, below. The artist could almost have been designing tablemats for the World Wildlife Fund gift shop.

The tour of the cave was well laid out to show not only the cave paintings but also incredible stalactite/stalagmite and rock formations. We also saw hyena teeth; mammoth bones and cave bear claw marks. There were human footprints preserved in the cave clay. You could just about read the Nike logo on the sole print.
We found it impossible to envisage what life was like then. Your imagination goes from primitive apeman to the Flintstones. The reality was something in between and probably surprisingly sophisticated if the cave art is any yardstick.

Next day the campsite organised a walk along the top of a deep gorge, and then down into it along a steep path that led to an abandoned watermill. What toil it must have been to donkey the grain down, and the milled flower up, this tortuous trail in all weathers. For us, it was an ideal spot for lunch, as the photo shows with Jane in the foreground and another walker disappearing into the bushes. Well it was getting on 3 hours since we left the campsite.

June 8th: Lourdes

Lourdes was a suitable stopping point en route to the Dordogne, and we stayed an extra day to look around. As everybody knows, it is a major pilgrimage site, with 6 million visitors a year and more hotels than any other city in France apart from Paris.

The church in the photo is built above the grotto, the scene of Bernadette’s visions in 1858 and, with the grotto, is the focus for the pilgrims who mainly come seeking a cure. The grotto itself is shown in the next photo.

The church is fronted by a large square, then some gardens, and then the town. We were expecting these parts near the church and grotto to be full of stalls, shops and peddlers, maybe even “official” gift shops run by the Church, capitalising on the religious souvenirs people feel obliged to buy to take home. This, and lots of snacks and ice creams. But in all these areas controlled by the Church there was no commercialisation whatsoever; quite the opposite from the circus we thought might prevail. The photo shows the church and square empty except for people.

The town itself makes up for the Church’s lack of business exploitation with numerous shops plying overpriced religious souvenirs, and eateries of all types. It is a well-oiled machine for fleecing the visitor, reminiscent of Marrakech..

This is another and newer part of the pilgrim package: a subterranean church, near the original church, built to cope with the huge numbers that come here. It can seat 20,000 people, and the photo shows just the right-hand half. The concrete ribs give the sensation of sitting in an enormous fish. So now we know what Jonah felt like in his whale. The outer ring of the building, a kind of cloister, has some expressive modern art (1985) made of glass, all by the same artist, as example below.

We were impressed by the manner in which all the officials efficiently and sensitively organised the pilgrims. This was especially important for the many who were old or ill and in wheel chairs with carers. All this was for no charge, either for the officials’ services or entry into the various religious venues. Being in the presence of such a great volume of people’s spiritual aspirations was quite a moving experience.

We might have stayed another day, but the campsite was inundated with flies that seemed to be able to get into the caravan through the smallest gap, including the fly screens. We despatched 73 in the ‘van on our return from town, and weren’t keen to deal with another plague the following day.

June 3rd – 6th: Salamanca

Salamanca is only 90 miles north of Monfrague, so we arrived there at lunchtime. The campsite we chose was part of a hotel complex just on the edge of the city. A notice directs new arrival campers to hotel reception. It feels odd being booked in by staff in pinstripe trousers instead of shorts and wellies. We’re allocated room number 44. Not sure we’ll get the caravan in the hotel lift. Ah, it’s pitch number 44. It’s a nice big one on the site perimeter, and quiet.

Above is the definitive photo of Salamanca. It’s of the cathedral on the high ground of the old city. The cathedral is the old cathedral and the new cathedral, which is built right next to it and almost surrounds it, being much larger. The new cathedral, rather like the New Forest in England, is actually very old, but not quite as old as the old cathedral (12th century).

This photo above is also a beautiful old building: Salamanca university. The university was founded just after our Oxford, and it was where Michael Portillo (the politician)’s father was a professor before the Spanish Civil War at which time he moved to England. There are many picturesque old streets and buildings in the town.

Here’s the handsome central square, arcaded with shops and the Tourist Information Office. These Offices are often difficult to find, being obscurely signposted, and not particularly informative if you do find them. That would certainly be Victor Meldrew’s opinion, and we are of an age.

Salamanca was the only place in Spain we heard live flamenco music, and that was from a street performer outside the cathedral, who was excellent. We bought one of his CDs, and a good €5 worth it has proved to be.

Good vibes from Salamanca and we would happily return.

May 29th: Caceres

Whilst at Monfrague we spent an afternoon visiting the historic town of Caceres, an hour’s drive away. Caceres old town was built with the proceeds of treasure plundered from the Spanish conquest of the Americas. Here were the homes and palaces of the Conquistadores, all built in the same austere, solid style as if to withstand an assault from the Incas or Mayas should they come looking to reclaim their rightful wealth.

The above is an example of these buildings. The main church looks equally defensive, built in this same “don’t mess with me” style. It contained an exhibition of Russian icons that could best be described as ornate and intricate rather than beautiful, with a couple of exceptions.

As appropriate to a town built on conquest, there was a small military museum, beautifully laid out. It was actually the museum of a Spanish Army regular regiment based in the town so represented a much later era, mainly the last two centuries. The photo below shows a presentation of historic swords, on the surface not unlike the displays in the tourist tat shops in Toledo!

The town was a testimony to the power and strength of Spain 500 years ago, undisputed Euro top dog until 1588 when Drake defeated the Armada, but still a formidable land power long after that.

Wed 25th May to Wed 2nd June: Monfragüe

Monfragüe is a National Park 150 miles due east of Aranjuez, about 50 miles from the Portuguese border. It is dedicated to the preservation of native Spanish species, especially birds. We went on an organised trip, and the following information is largely from our very knowledgeable guide.

The vultures are the most spectacular. Griffon vultures are the most numerous, and the photo above shows about 40 of them in this part of the sky alone. They have a wingspan of up to 9 feet, but the biggest is the black vulture, which can be a foot more. These are also here in the Park, and are the largest flying birds in Europe.
They are not fed by the Park, but rely on deer and pig corpses (and perhaps the occasional aged tourist!). If one of the smaller vultures spots, say, a dead deer, it will nip in quick and eat what it can, like the eyes. It will then hover above the spot to advertise the carcase to the black vulture that alone has a beak strong enough to tear open an adult hide. The black vulture having had its fill will leave the rest for the weaker birds.

Cork oak stripping (sounds like the latest voyeuristic trend like pole dancing) is another traditional industry, as shown below. Only the easy bark around the base of the tree is stripped and these days it is carried out by contract gangs about every 9 or 10 years.

A spin-off from all these oak trees is pork farming because the pigs eat the acorns. Acorn-fed pigs fetch the best price in the dry cured delicacy Serrano ham market. We haven’t acquires a taste for Serrano ham yet and long for a traditional British (probably Danish) bacon sandwich. The pigs themselves are small, dark grey and look very healthy.

Lastly, our pitch on the campsite: overlooking open fields with Jane’s birdfeeder attracting lots of birds, mainly the unusual azure winged magpies. We have enjoyed our visit here enormously.