Not heaven, but you can see it from here!

On Thursday, I wrote about practicalities, because it was a rainy day and there was nothing else to write about. Thursday night, the clouds drifted off to the east and a full moon appeared, illuminating the late night countryside. In the morning, the sun took its cue from the moon, bringing brilliant blue skies. Out came our smiles and our bicycles.


We were up and out early to capture the day. (Well, it was before noon.) On this day, we pointed our bicycles towards Les Milandes, the fabulous chateau that was once the home of the fabulous Josephine Baker.

The day promised near perfection, and we were not disappointed. The air was warm; and the sky, crystal clear. As always here in the valley of La Dordogne, the journey was the destination. Every spot along the road was where we were supposed to be.

There was, of course, La Dordogne itself.


Sometimes we cycled beside its banks.


Sometimes we were high above it. Today, even the climb out of the valley was gentle; we found ourselves high above the river, although we had hardly broken a sweat. Though the river was not in sight, we felt its allure.

Everywhere we looked we found beauty. Perhaps Monet's dreams looked like this.

We stopped near a farm for a drink of water and a map check. The farm dogs bounded out to check us out and to remind us that this was their place. An old man ambled out to see what all the fuss was, and Carol told him we were on our way to Les Milandes. He pointed across the fields to where in the distance we could see the chateau's towers. We wished him a bonne journée and set off again.

Not too much later we cycled up to the entrance gate, where we paid our sixteen euros and entered the grounds of this stunning chateau. We sat on a low wall overlooking the Dordogne far below us and ate our croissandwiches. Then we took the tour. Here's a taste of what we saw.






I took lots of photos of the gargoyles. I like gargoyles.

The tour is fascinating. Josephine Baker was quite an interesting woman, with a flamboyant style, to say the least. The chateau is furnished and decorated the way it was during the time she lived there in the mid-twentieth century. The walls are filled with photos of her life and posters of her as an entertainer. She was a striking personality and a beautiful woman. I was so caught up in the photos and the documentary of her life (good practice in reading French!) that I often had to remind myself to pay attention the building itself, a masterpiece of medieval architecture and grandeur.

Photos inside the chateau are not allowed. This is my forbidden photo. Carol set me straight, and I behaved from this point on. (I confess that I was tempted to cheat a little even though I knew better, but there were other people around!)

We had toured this site in 2006 when we were on our bike tour, but it was every bit as exciting and beautiful the second time around. And if we're ever lucky enough to be in this part of the world again, we'll come back for more.

Oops! How did he get in here? Okay. No more gargoyles. I promise. (Believe me, I have lots more I could show.)

Soon it was time to get on the bikes and head for home. We had a dinner reservation at La Plume d'Oie (Goose Feather) later on, and a little down time after the bike ride sounded real good.

There was a magical moment in store for each of us on our way home. Carol's was different from mine; but, well, I'll just show you.

As we neared Saint Cyprien, we cycled a lovely stretch along the Dordogne. We were alone on the gravel path, and I came to a spot that completely captivated me. I told Carol that I needed to stop. She rode on, and I got off my bike and sat by the bank of the river.

This was what I saw. This is not the most beautiful photo of our trip by any means. But this is the one that will mean the most to me months from now when I remember the day. I sat there and absorbed the silence, the sun shimmering on the water, the soft breeze brushing across my face, the current slipping by on its journey. The Dordogne holds me in its grasp, for a reason I can't explain. So, for that too brief a time, I allowed the river to keep me there and work its magic.

I could have stayed there for a long long time, but I knew it was time to go. I got on my bike and set out to catch up to Carol. I didn't pedal far before I saw Carol also sitting by the side of the road. Her back was to the river.

Her attention had been captured by this view of Saint Cyprien. As I approached, she said, "This is it. This is the place I want my home." I knew exactly what she meant. It may never happen, but it's a dream we have, the two of us. I'm glad to have shared it with you.