Five best... river trips
| Published: 15/03/2008 |
Hop in your canoe and off you go, pootling down the Dordogne propelled by your own paddle power. Not as hard as it sounds - the river carries you along and your bags are moved for you, leaving you to admire the scenery.
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The river (not too) wild
| Published: 16/01/2008 |
The safety instructions were enough to send my imagination into overdrive. As far as I was concerned I was about to go careering uncontrollably down the Dordogne until my canoe smashed into the bank, or worse still, hit a rock and catapaulted me into the water. And then I remembered that this canoeing trip was, in fact, suitable for children. Now my only concern was tackling the weir on the first leg of our journey.
There were seven of us in total taking this trip in three two-person canoes - one for Phil and me, another for a couple called Keith and Flavia, the third for Londoners Josie and Mick, plus one kayak for the latter couple's daughter Lou. As we took to the water it quickly became apparent that I wasn't alone in my consternation about the weir; we all had our reservations, to varying degrees, although admittedly I was probably the closest to 'scaredy cat' on the bravery scale.
Although this was to be an unguided tour of the Dordogne and we were under no obligation to stick together, a pleasant camaraderie soon developed as the four vessels paddled gently down stream. It wasn't too long before we hit our first obstacle. Despite the unseasonably heavy rain this area of France had succumbed to earlier in the summer, the river was actually very low. Keith and Flavia soon found the lowest point. The rest of us waited as the stranded couple wriggled about trying to dislodge their canoe from the bank of stones before Keith gallantly stepped into the shallow water and simply dislodged the boat from its grounding. Lesson learned, we would all be watching carefully from now on for the river bottom to emerge.
We continued on our journey taking in the beautiful scenery, this really was a privileged way of viewing the river with the limestone cliffs that rose majestically from it and our view ahead dotted with the swifts that dipped above the water. Every now and then a fish would leap above the surface.
Despite being a fairly confident swimmer with little fear of water, I was still a bit jumpy much to Phil's chagrin, as he steered us against my better judgement towards the choppier areas of water. However, after a couple of faster adventures round bends. I began to realise this really was quite safe and if the canoe did tip, our belongings were firmly tied in and the worst that could happen was that we'd get wet which, as it was a warm day would have been pleasant rather than vexing.
After about an hour we pulled onto one of the many beaches that line the river for a spot of lunch and chatted happily about the journey so far; hut the weir was still to come, and none of us really knew what to expect. Whilst I was imagining tackling something akin to Meryl Streep's white knuckle ride in The River Wild, the death defying weir actually turned out to be really rather tame, and none of us were 100 per cent sure that we'd actually been through it. But we had, and we arrived safely at our first destination: the beautiful Lilliput village of Carrenac. A brief walk in the sun exploring this glorious place was perfect before settling down to some good French hospitality at our hotel.
Every other day on this trip was a rest day and I was glad of our first one as my shoulder was a little achy and hands a little sore, but by day three, I was ready for some more river action.
Our second day on the river dawned slightly overcast as we met our fellow canoeists and unhooked our faithful canoes. Our first obstacle of the day lay just 20 metres away; a concrete chute with water rushing down it that would take us from the mill pond where we had moored up, back onto the Dordogne. None of us were foolhardy enough to try that one and opted for the safer, but more labour intensive alternative, which comprised lugging our laden canoes through the muddy banks, across the bridge above the chute and down the incline to the edge of the river. Little did we know that by the end of our trip we'd all be wanting to revisit the chute, and this time we wouldn't be taking the bridge.
The paddling wasn't hard going on this stretch of the river as the gentle current carried us along. Occasionally, faster flowing water would raise the adrenaline as we all tried to take the correct line in the river to ensure our safe passage around the bends and past the stone spits that rose every now and then from the clear depths.
Before we knew it, it was time for lunch, and we stopped off at Gluges for a bite to eat sitting in the vine covered courtyard of a pleasant restaurant on the main road. By now the sun was in full shine and the combination of a lunchtime beer, a full belly and a morning on the river made the first 20 minutes of our post lunch canoe heavy going, but we carried on at a leisurely pace and soon found ourselves back in the stride.
Shortly before arriving at our destination at St Sozy we pulled up onto a river beach, stripped down to swimming costumes and took a dip in the water; a very refreshing way to end the day.
After another day of rest (more restful for some of our party than others; Phil and I ended up walking a 20 km round trip to the caves at LaCave) it was back to the river for our journey up to Souillac.
The weather was perfect as we oared along towards our first trepidation of the day - a fast-flowing sharp bend where if we weren't careful we could easily end up having a close encounter with a limestone cliff. The river was pretty busy so we took our time and watched as other canoeists and kayakers navigated the bend, the majority of whom were successful - some even managed it facing forward the whole way.
A little further down the river we came across a sign for a cafe, and decided to stop off for elevenses on the hibiscus covered veranda. This really was turning into a very leisurely day.
And so we carried on watching as the scenery changed to more gentle sloping banks and then back to the impressive cliffs, alive with birds. Occasionally in the deeper parts of the river I would leave Phil to row alone as I gently manoeuvred myself from boat to water to enjoy a dip in the beautifully clean river. But I wasn't the only one desperate to swim, and when we came across a suitable beach where the water was deep and clear we all stopped off and took to the depths. It was the most perfect way to spend an afternoon, and it took a lot of willpower to drag us from the water and back into the canoes for the last leg of the day's journey up to Souillac.
Little did we know that as we arrived at Souillac we were obviously under surveillance. As soon as we had left what had been peaceful water, the frog chorus started up and looking back into the river we saw that it was alive with hundreds of frogs who had all been waiting quietly in the shadows until we were clear of their domain and they could start their evening party.
Another 'rest' day followed when Phil and I decided to take to pedal power to explore the countryside: easy going until we hit the slope up to Chateau Fenelon when it became first gear all the way and I started to curse myself for not thinking about the fact that castles are built on hills. On the plus side, it was beautiful and it was working off some of the calories we'd consumed thanks to the 'can't say no' three course evening meals every day.
Our last day on the river dawned bright and we set off confidently. By now we were all feeling perfectly at home in our canoes and when a row of white horses- well, perhaps white ponies-appeared bubbling away ahead of us, we knew there was some turbulence afoot. The difference in confidence was amazing as we all headed directly into these mini waves enjoying the challenge of staying upright in the rough water, and all emerging with a couple of inches of water in the bottom of our canoes; kayaking Lou was particularly badly hit.
It was with a heavy heart that I realised our end point was in sight and we were about to remove our canoes from the water for the final time.
Back on dry land, the lure of the water became too much and we all leapt back in to let the strong current whiz us 100 yards downstream before getting out, running up the beach and repeating the whole 'ride'. I'm pleased none of us spotted the 'No Swimming' sign until later.
But I did feel really sad. We'd come to the end of a fantastic holiday, and I wasn't really sure whether I was ready to leave the river just yet.
This type of activity holiday isn't to be recommended to anyone wanting to sit back and sunbathe, but if you're looking for something a bit different canoeing along the Dordogne is a wonderful experience that I can confidently recommend.
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The Dordogne: On the lazy river | Published: 01/04/2007 |
A kingfisher streaks across in front of us just above the water; damselflies shine bright blue in the sunshine as they hover over the meadow of floating white flowers; we dangle our hands and feet in the cool river as we float along. We are canoeing down the Dordogne and it is utterly beautiful and peaceful - until 15-year-old Daniel swings his paddle across the water and splashes me.
Arriving from London by train, we spent the first night in a delightful little hotel just outside Sarlat, with a shady terrace overlooking miles of French countryside. In the morning our baggage was piled into the minibus (to reappear at the next hotel), our day kit bundled into a waterproof barrel and we headed for the riverside to find the canoe in which my husband, younger son and I would be travelling and the kayak for Daniel.
Given buoyancy aids (compulsory), helmets (merely 'advised', so sun hats took precedence) and the crucial laminated set of directions, we were instructed that kayakers should wear helmets on the weir, and we then pushed off into the stream. The weir! This holiday was supposed to require no previous experience. Were we to lose our shoes, picnic and sun hats - not to mention our composure - to the river so soon?
An undercurrent of uncertainty, even anxiety, characterised the next hour. 'First sign of The Weir will be the sound of rushing water,' the rep had said. Several times we heard it. And each time it was just a bit of faster water, often so shallow you were more likely to ground than drown. Then there it was - choppiness that ran in a straight line across the river. Dutifully, we stopped on the bank, insisting Daniel don his helmet. Bracing ourselves, we paddled on, bobbing down over a couple of small rocks. Then the water went flat again. That can't have been it. The Big Bad Weir? We were almost disappointed.
There was nothing left to fear now, and the holiday really began. We soon realised that most of the time the river would take us, willy-nilly, roughly where we wanted to go. With no other boats in sight, we began to relax. I had a go in the kayak and loved the flexibility and closeness to the water. I hadn't dared to book a kayak in advance, thinking that paddling solo, my arms would never hold out for up to 12 miles a day. But with a conveyer belt of water beneath you and all day in which to do it, even 12 miles is not that far.
Luckily, the holiday rep was heading our way with the canoe trailer so we became three boats on the water: Luke and his dad happy in the more solid (and now less cramped) canoe with Daniel and me paddling around them, grabbing an occasional lift alongside or floating in the smooth currents leaning back on our buoyancy aids, feet up on the front - kayaks as streamlined lilos.
Our first stop was Carennac, a gorgeous little hillside village with a 12th-century church, 16th-century houses, delightful tower dovecotes, and Hostellerie Fénelon - a small, exceptionally comfortable hotel run by a delightful middle-aged French couple and their chef son. We ate an excellent al fresco dinner and planned our first off-water 'rest day'.
It didn't turn out all that restful, but it was great. We got a lift to the Gouffre de Padirac, an extraordinary cave complex. Descending (by lifts or stairs) 338ft into the limestone plateau, you take a boat along an underground river before walking deeper into the rock, past a 246ft stalactite, to explore the 'Grand Dome', 308ft high with a remarkable variety of lakes and rock formations. We chose to walk the six miles back, arriving very tired and hot to flop gratefully into the hotel's pool.
On the river again, we passed a fairy-tale chateau as the landscape shifted from pastoral green to impressive limestone cliffs with ochre-coloured stripes and caves below. Exploration revealed some big enough to canoe right into, but they were also deep and dark and echoey. Further on, a shingle beach provided a lunch and swim stop. The clear, cool water was wonderfully refreshing and you could swim gently in the shallows or go out a bit and drift with the current.
The hotel in St Sozy was more basic but very child-friendly with a fenced-in swimming pool and table tennis. For our free day we took a taxi to Rocamadour, France's most important religious site after Mont St Michel. It's a series of chapels built high into the cliff face where pilgrims, including monarchs, once climbed the long grand escalier of stone steps on their knees, to worship the Black Madonna (a 28-inch statue that can still be seen). In a cultural come-down hugely enjoyed by the kids, we fed popcorn to Barbary macaques at the Monkey Forest conservation centre.
By this time, the river felt like an old friend and we sought out the faster water rather than avoiding it. In temperatures of more than 30C, water was the only place to be. So for our final land-day, in the small town of Souillac, we joined with another canoeing family to splash and slide at Quercyland water park. We did find time for a wander through the classic French weekly market, though, and it was a foodie's dream - as were the superb five-course dinners at our gastronomically exceptional hotel.
The marvellous thing about this holiday was the variety. The canoeing provided a gently adventurous focus that was child, teenager and adult friendly, and there was something particularly pleasing about actually travelling in our canoes. The days between gave us a chance to explore the different places, sightsee, laze and eat excellent French food. It suited us all.
The last day's canoeing went much too fast. To compensate, we stopped for a cooling game of 'river cricket'. Combined with a final paddle to the landing place, this made a perfect end to a wonderful family holiday.
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HOLIDAYS IN THE
DORDOGNE
Walking holidays in The
Dordogne
Cycling holidays in The
Dordogne
Canoeing holidays in The
Dordogne
Short breaks in The Dordogne
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