The last day of our trek around the Dordogne region began with yesterday's route in reverse, from Beynac to Castelnaud. It began with a long descent down the winding road from our guest house to the centre of Beynac, followed by a long climb all the way back up the very steep hill to the Château. That's when we discovered that there is a small road leading almost directly from our guest house to the Château, a few hundred metres round the side of the hill. You limp and learn.
Beyond the Château, an elusive track led up an even steeper hill out of the town. The track, once found, declares itself a pilgrim route by displaying the scallop shell of St Jacques. Pilgrims don't expect things to be easy, so those who have walked this way over the centuries, many on their way to Santiago de Compostella, will not have been disappointed. The route became steeper and steeper, the sun hotter and hotter and our backpacks heavier and heavier.
The track led to a small road, which at last started going downhill. The route took us along another country road to a track through a forest, then on through a beautiful wildflower meadow. Many orchids were still in bloom, alongside marguerites and a dozen kinds of flowering grasses.
We suddenly emerged between two houses, apparently in the middle of nowhere. Somehow, however, the track had led us to the road towards the Château des Milandes.
The Château was busy with visitors, arriving by the bus load. It is an archetypal French medieval château, a turret for every taste, mullioned windows by the score and surrounded by sumptuous gardens. However, its fame is mainly due to one of its previous owners, the American-born singer and actress Josephine Baker, who bought the Château in the 1940s and turned it into a "global village", adopting a total of 12 children from all around the world to live with her at the Château.
We carried on through the car park and across a series of wide, grassy fields with distant views. We could almost have been somewhere on the South Downs, apart from the glimpses of turreted châteaux . It looked as though we were walking along a ridge, so we expected the track to be fairly flat and easy going, with soft grass underfoot. Somehow, however, it seemed to lead inexorably uphill for several kilometres. We took a break under one of the few large trees for some shade, a long drink of water and to admire the distant views of the Châteaux of Feyrac and Milandes and the green valley sweeping down to the Dordogne.
We carried on past a farmyard, the only sign of habitation that we had come across, and on down through a tunnel-like path under wild walnut and fruit trees. Here and there, as throughout this region, we came across strange, dry-stone huts in the middle of nowhere, some of them beautifully crafted and apparently used for storage or shelter.
The path led us eventually on to a small road towards Allas-des-Mines. We thought the clue might be in the name - if this was an old mining village, it was sure to be big enough to have some refreshments. Sadly and thirstily, all we found were deserted streets, hot and dusty under the afternoon sun.
But help was at hand. We suddenly came upon an unexpected and rather bizarre museum; a dark, cave-like converted barn containing mock-ups of streets from past centuries. We declined the offer of spending time inside a museum of old streets on a lovely, sunny afternoon with the lovely Dordogne landscape to be enjoyed out of doors, but we very much welcomed the chance to sit in the garden outside the museum's charming cafe, enjoying a glass of a very cold and delightful local brew. Plenty of other people seemed to be willing to spend their afternoon indoors, however, judging by the scores of visitors who arrived while we were taking our break. Some came in coaches from distant cities, some in cars and one group on vintage motorcycles. They were of a certain vintage themselves and came complete with full, black leather gear and tatoos on all exposed flesh. They seemed an unlikely audience for a museum of antique street shopfronts, but proved that the fame of the strange little place had spread far and wide.
The river was narrower here than at Beynac. It looked quiet, clear and cool, but a closer look showed how fast the current was moving. Swimming in these inviting waters would not be a good idea, at least not at this time of year. The occasional duck sped past like a jet-ski, spinning in the current and apparently joy-riding.
Reluctantly shouldering our backpacks once more, we set off across a tiny road bridge over the Dordogne. It seemed an unlikely piece of infrastructure for an old mining village, as it was barely wide enough to take a car, let alone a lorry.
A path on the other side of the river took us along the bank for a couple of kilometres, then up over a railway crossing and on to a main road, towards what we thought was our overnight stop at the Château d'Argentonesse. We were looking forward to a refreshing dip in the promised swimming pool at the Château. In fact, we could think of little else. That was probably how we came to go wrong. The Château was not where we expected it to be. We trudged in the heat up and down the busy road, consulting various maps and websites, until we discovered that it was about 5 kilometres back along the road and that an alternative path would have taken us straight there.
The road was unpleasantly dusty and busy, cars and lorries whizzing past our ears. Suddenly they stopped and we found ourselves walking beside a long, log-jam of vehicles. Various drivers stuck their heads out of windows, opened doors and went to inspect the road ahead. Nothing was coming in the other direction, so no news reached the stranded motorists until eventually a few cars started straggling down the other side of the road, via a side road. They brought news of a serious accident about one kilometre ahead; the emergency services were there, the road was closed and nothing could move until they had finished their work.
We were able to walk along the side of the closed road to our destination, but the sight of other people's misfortune was not a good way to end our wonderful day's walking. Not for the first time, we were extremely glad that we had chosen to leave the car at home and to explore the Dordogne on foot. And that swim at the lovely Château d'Argentonesse was worth every step!
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