Another visit to the Union de Producteurs de Saint Emilion

We were invited, once again, to visit the Saint Emilion wine Co-operative, the Union de producteurs de Saint Emilion(UDP), for a tour of the production area and to renew our relationship with the Cooperative.

The drive down through rain drenched lanes flanked by rolling fields of immaculately manicured vines was a slow but delightful journey.  Strange machines ran up and down the vines, heads bobbed as the workers tied up the rapidly growing branches and at one point a horse and ploughman were working the narrow lanes between the vines.

Saint Emilion rose slowly from the fields, the massive stonework dulled by the rain.  The UDP plant is south of the city below the vine covered slopes on which the city rests.  Inside we were taken through the newly refurbished sales area with bottles and cases reflected in the black mirrored ceiling.  Once in the exhibition hall/conference room we were invited to have a light breakfast while the rest of the guests arrived.  The walls displayed the works of artist Nane (Christiane Relave) and showed a progression of her works through 4 periods.

I will not go into the details of the tour as it followed the same route from sorting to bottling as described in my previous post on the UDP.  However, the highlight for me, once more, was the visit to the row upon row of thousands of golden oak barrels full of wine maturing in the semi darkness.  The aroma as you enter the cellar fills your nose with a warm glow and awakens the taste buds.

Returning to the exhibition area there was a short talk about the discounts available to any of our guests who choose to come for a visit and wish to buy wines from the UDP shop. Then we took part in a tasting session of three of their superb reds ending in a delightful, flavoursome Grand Cru.

Sometimes it is a hard life running Gites; but not today .

Save

A Saint-Emilion wine tour – and more.

Every now and again, as people in the ‘Hospitality’ business, we get invitations to interesting events organised by the Office de Tourisme or one of the notable or more pro-active tourist venues. In this case we were invited (along with a lot of others over a two-day period) to visit the ‘Union de Producteurs de Saint-Emilion’. The UDP de Saint-Emilion is a large wine Co-Operative that produces a wide range of excellent, quality, wine from hand-picked Speciality Grand Crus to easy drinking AOC. This co-operative was founded, along with many others, in the 1930’s as a direct effort to counter the effects of the impending economic depression.

Nowadays this UDP provides a full range of wine making skills for whoever wants to make use of it within the Saint-Emilion area. In addition the scale of their operation means that they are able to offer their growers not only their expertise, knowledge and superb processing facilities but also marketing and sales assistance on a scale that individual producers could not afford. This of course (apart from us being consumers) is where we, with this invitation, come in.

We chose the second of the proposed days for our visit and took the scenic route down through rambling villages and open countryside into the mono-culture area of the greater Bordeaux vineyards. Despite the additional scenic element that a wrong turn gave us (we will not dwell on it here) we made it, door to door in well under an hour.

We were met in the UDP reception by the excited and fired-up marketing team. We were taken straight to the basement exhibition space where we had coffee and pain au chocolat. The marketing team made us welcome and while our colleagues gathered the team were able to give us a quick briefing and identify the 6 or 7 Anglophone people in the party. Slowly our companions for the morning assembled, drank coffee, dropped crumbs of pain au chocolat and properly curved croissant (certainly not Tesco value) and chatted while gazing at the exhibition of paintings.

With most of the 20+ of us assembled and fortified for the tour we set off into the shop for a very interesting talk on the geology and landscape of the Saint Emilion AOC. From a foundation group of six wine-growers there are now 150 producers within the UDP. They harvest about 36,000 hectolitres from 700 hectares in the prestigious Saint-Emilion and Saint-Emilion Grand Cru. The singularity of the varied geology is what makes this area what it is.

The tour started as we were led into the great hall of concrete vats on a walkway above the impressive wine presses. Beyond this hall was clinical and shining; stainless steel glinting in the light. Here the grapes arrived by trailer to start their conversion. Four conveyors for ‘other’ grapes and one for the specialised ‘hand-picked’ grapes that are sifted, sorted de-stalked and optically quality/size checked in a completely different way to the bulk of the grapes.

The scheduling of arrivals and the record-keeping involved in ensuring that the right grapes go to the right place (specific château grapes must take their pre-ordained processing route to maintain their integrity) for such a range of producers is mind-numbing. Because the UDP processes for so many and so varied a group of producers they must cater for everything from Grand Cru and Château bottling to the standard AOC. This I think is one of the great benefits of a visit to the UDP; while it is not a famous single Château with a single process to demonstrate it is far more than this and can show a range of different processes under one roof.

We were shown the fermenting chambers where the wild yeasts are killed off and specific yeasts administered before the juice is cooled in summer and warmed in winter to provide the perfect environment for that wonderful magic that turns juice to wine.

Enough of the boring details because you can go and find these out for yourself.

I will, however, dwell on one other aspect of the tour and that is my second favourite segment (the wine tasting at the end came first place), and that was the beautiful warehouse where the wines (the ‘better’ wines at least) are stored in rank after rank of golden oak barrels.

The oak comes from a single forest in the centre of France and four or five workshops provide the cooperage. There is an amazing glow that fills this dimly lit cathedral of a room.

I will gloss over the final part of our tour where theory met practice as we sampled three delightful wines all of great quality but each better than the previous. This we ‘washed’ down with an excellent buffet.

Throughout the visit our guide, Christine, gave a full commentary in French. After each stop she took the small group of Anglophone visitors to one side and gave us explanations of the technicalities in English. She was never hurried, no question went unanswered and the range of her knowledge was superb.  There was though one question that I forgot to ask and that concerned the escape of alcohol from the barrels and the change in strength of the wine stored in those barrels over their four years of gentle slumber.

So, if you want to visit what does it cost? Not a lot – once you are in the area and staying with us a tour and sampling can be arranged for free every day of the year (well almost, exclude Christmas day and New Years day). The marketing people are passionate and incredibly knowledgeable and really want you to enjoy your visit. Go on, spoil yourself, stay at Bon Abri in Puymangou and spend a really pleasant morning with the UDP in Saint Emilion.

For more on Saint-Emilion itself have a look at this earlier post.

Perhaps my French is improving after-all

Just re-posted now I have worked out why the images did not previously show up. –  We drove through the quiet village of Monze, deep in the land of Corbiere wines (in Languedoc-Rousillon and south-east of Carcassonne). Wide, flat valleys dozed cosily in the shelter of the …

Source: Perhaps my French is improving after-all

Perhaps my French is improving after-all

 

We drove through the quiet village of Monze, deep in the land of Corbiere wines (in Languedoc-Rousillon and south-east of Carcassonne). Wide, flat valleys dozed cosily in the shelter of the cracked and shattered folds of the often bare limestone ridges and peaks. Carefully tended vines stretched in serried ranks across the valleys. Occasionally a lone worker could be seen tending each vine with the care of a nurse working between row after row of hospital beds. Each vine was checked and cosseted, then given its required treatment.

The village of Monze, unlike the surrounding landscape, is unremarkable with its restaurant and small vehicle repair workshop; however the signboards for each of these premises read “M’11 restaurant” and “M’11 autos”. It took the few seconds until we drove out of the village for the penny (or centime or cent) to drop and I suddenly understood the signs. Perhaps my French is improving after-all.

Our destination for this short trip was the town of Lagrasse. This is one of the “Plus Beaux Villages”. This is the official designation for one of the most beautiful villages in France. From Monze you enter the town across the new bridge. This is parallel to the high-arched medieval bridge framing the great Abbey behind it. The old bridge is narrow and steep, soaring above the seemingly tranquil waters far below. On foot the bridge leads into a beautiful Bastide town with narrow canyon like streets of tightly packed houses sheltering within the remains of the old walls.

With the sun ‘winter low’ and casting deep shadows in the streets it was a fine place to wander. The church is well worth a visit but hard to find. From a distance the low tower hovers over the rooftops. As you close in the houses crowd in so closely on all sides that you are unaware of the church itself until you step through the great doors at the end of a short dead-end street and down into the very wide space of the nave.

Lagrasse – the gap between church (on the right and houses on the left)

Walking back to the car along the path below the Abbey walls I thought about other Abbeys in the region; the Abbey of Saint Hilaire in Limoux is where Blanquette de Limoux comes from. They use the Méthode champenoise to put the sparkle in the bottle and claim to have invented the method before Champagne did. Don’t join the debate, just drink a Champagne quality wine at a better price. On a different tack the Cistertian Abbey of Fontfroide opens its 200 bush rose garden to the public in the spring. This one is on my ‘to-do’ list for the next Spring trip south from Bon Abri Gites.

Lagrasse – the north door into the nave

 

 

 

 

If you are planning a holiday down this way later in the year (and apartment St Vincent is a great place to base yourself) it might be worth thinking about the 16th July to the 4th August which is the Festival des Abbayes. There are events at many of the Regions Abbeys including Caune Minervois (if you are of a geological bent the quarries at Caune produce a beautiful pink marble that turns up everywhere from fountains to fireplaces).

While thinking about festivals there is one that comes to mind, Les Médiévales de Peyrepertuse, with medieval entertainment and an amazing backdrop of the château of Peyrepertuse. Several of the local castles are classified as “citadelles du vertige”, for instance Quéribus and Puilaurens. Their clifftop locations (and the often hard slog to get to them) justify the name.

A week after that trip, back in the Dordogne, the crane migrations are in full flow. Bigger flocks than I have seen before assemble and disassemble overhead as the birds chatter and jostle spiraling up into the thin, wispy clouds before peeling off into ‘V’ shaped squadrons that move off in noisy lines towards the Paris Basin and beyond.

Where the Languedoc is already pink and white with almond and plum blossom up here in the Dordogne the blossom is only slowly showing that Spring is not far away. Its arrival is very much anticipated this year as we face up to the squelching ground, mist and showers. In the mean-time the sweeping paths of daffodils planted when we first arrived in Bon Abri in Puymangou add a shimmer of constantly moving yellow.

I can reveal, for those less adept at French than even I am, the number 11 would be pronounced onze. So M’11 becomes Monze and the village was……Monze. As Alexander the Meerkat would say “simples”; well it is when you know.

Les cagettes de l’ouest and a good night out

A few nights ago there was another of the ‘open mic’ nights in the village hall “George Brasssens” in Chenaud, Dordogne, France; where the ‘open’ section is followed by a main band. As Chenaud is only, and quite literally, ‘just down the road’ from Bon Abri in Puymangou – although its a steeps, tree-lined and very winding road through the forest down to the valley of the river Dronne – we set off through the darkness for a drink and to enjoy some music.

We were running late and missed most of the ‘open mic’ performers but were able to catch a couple (guitar and flute/vocals) singing in English followed by an entertaining trio that performed chansons francaise which had most of the audience, young and old, singing along with them. This chansons has an apparent simplicity that makes you think you have a grasp of a very simple song. However these songs, I am led to believe, have a depth of meaning and subtlety of undertone that is completely missed by all but the most fluent French speaking non-French person.

With this in mind the final performers took the stage (les cagettes de l’ouest). Starting as a solo act the singer/guitarist was later joined by a percussionist and an amazingly agile and eccentric fiddle player.

Later their numbers were bulked out with a couple of girls adding their voices. They performed their own material in the chansons francaise style. The audience were very receptive and their performance was really entertaining.

Despite what I said earlier about chanson francaise when they gave us ‘jamais, non jamais’ even I, after a few cups of red wine, could add my voice to the chorus (jamais, jamais, jamais……). As my French tutor (and more of her in another blog) said when we discussed this night out, “there you are, another word memorised”.

I am already looking forward to another night in the salle de George Brassens in Chenaud and will keep my eyes open for another performance by ‘les cagettes de l’ouest’.

I will keep you informed – sante.

A concert on the beach in Royan

The summer in Aquitaine is a cultural melting pot, full of lively, bubbling, spicy activity providing a glut for any sized cultural appetite. The greatest difficulty is deciding what to see and above all what has to be left out. One thing at least, sadly, has been made easier and that is that there will be no St Aulaye pastel exhibition this year. It seems that ‘they’ have decided to make it a biennial exhibition.

A series of events that had caught our imagination were the concerts on the beach at Royan, Charente-Maritime. Held at the end of July, taking place late in the evening on a wide stretch of the beautiful, fine sand of the town beach in Royan, set at the head of the Garronne estuary they sounded perfect. We opted for a fairly ‘straight’ classical set. Making sure that our gite guests could cope without us for a couple of days we left Bon Abri in Puymangou on a scorching hot morning and headed in to the Charente. We stopped briefly in the bee buzzing, summer dozing town of Condéon with its large Romanesque church of St Marien.

The carved main doorway arch is highly weathered and the images of knights on their horses are hard to decipher. Some of the mythical beasts are almost recognisable but what I thought looked like Christ throwing the merchants out of the temple was, we were led to believe, more of the bestiary. I suppose that if I had stood outside for 13 centuries I might be a bit weathered. Inside the long, tall nave was cool and dark with some interesting, small box pews.

Under an hour later we drove into the equally sleepy, but far bigger, town of Pons.

The fish filled river flowed gently through the town along the edge of the cliffs that are topped by the remains of the Norman keep and ornate chateau that now houses the Mairie.

Pretty, neat and napping in its dotage I only hope that pilgrims heading to and from Santiago de Compostela found a livelier town in the Middle Ages.

In stark contrast to the restful air of Pons the fortified coastal town of Talmont was thronging. We parked in the huge municipal carpark outside town, sat and had a reviving lunch and then fell in with the other visitors to this quaint little town that squats behind it medieval walls and keeps its back to the gales that the winter throws at it from the Atlantic.

From the fishermen’s huts perched on their stilts out in the estuary to the blue painted shutters of the customs house and the solid, storm defying walls of l’eglise St Radegonde the town shouts quaint and picturesque; but it is still well worth a visit for all that.

The next stop was Royan; what a culture shock that was for us; there were cars, people, cars, shops and more people. For us country-folk, fresh from our village in the forest with a population of less than 90 this was a real shock to our systems. The small, bijou hotel was easy to find on a street that runs from the beach to the market. Parking was almost as easy with a choice of on or off street spaces a short walk from the hotel. By now our searing hot day had turned to drizzle and the drizzle looked as if it might turn to rain as the time for the beach concert got gradually closer. We left it to the last minute to head for the beach and a couple of minutes later we were standing on a deserted stretch of wet sand with the flickering lights of the harbour and promenade reflected from the rippled surface.

There was no one in sight and the few signs declared that the concert had been postponed until tomorrow. We went back to the hotel after walking the several hundred yards out across the sand to the low-water mark. Our picnic was eaten on our hotel bed and the excellent wine went down really well in the dry and cosy room.

Next day was dull as we went up to the market and wandered around. The market was very impressive, as most French markets are, with a wide range of produce beautifully arranged. The stall that really took our attention was outside the covered area and was very busy.

The lady was selling a huge range of strange tomatoes and other vegetables including physalis and a wide range of wild herbs. We tried to talk to her about the herbs but she was so busy we were barely able to fit in a request to take pictures and were unable to say ‘thank-you’ afterwards.

The church of Notre-dame soars high above the town and dominates it from most view-points. It is a strange, stark concrete edifice that becomes more and more enticing as you approach it.

It was bombed to total oblivion at the end of the war and this object was constructed in 3-years.  It looks truly amazing until you see where the speed of construction has been its downfall, the re-enforcing has badly rusted and the concrete is falling away. The structure is dangerous and is undergoing a major structural re-fit. The cost is staggering.

Personally re-energised with pain au raison we drove out across the flat farm-land to Isle d’Oleron. We had hoped to reach the small fort of Louvois with its low-tide causeway in time to walk across but missed out.

The island of Oleron was a huge disappointment. Flat and heavily wooded with every available space made over to the cultivation of snot in a shell, errr, sorry, I mean oysters. Huge expanses of clear white sand and everything that was worst about childhood holidays to the beach, slow moving lines of cars, boring long expanses of sand and the ever present feeling of compulsory ‘having a good-time’.

The shore-side villages are packed and thronged with people walking one way and then the other. ‘Snot’ restaurants abound and there are, it seems, no quaint little villages left here. On the positive side the land is farmed and the waters fished; the ports and harbours work for a living dragged from the cold, heartless sea.

As we drove to get off the island across the long and delicate bridge the sun shone down and promised a fine evening. Once back in Royan and with no hotel to worry about we bought another picnic, sans vin, and joined the crowds of elderly (mostly) people heading onto the strand. We staked our claim to a small section of sand and settled in for a 2-hour picnic before the concert began.

The sun set, the temperature plummeted and the moon rose. Then, suddenly, the concert was under-way. A lovely selection of music presented in some really unusual ways, Vivaldi from an acapella group of women, some modern Spanish music from Wan Ferera, the most unbelievably delicate, sensitive music from a duet of Alpine horns (sounds impossible but its true), a girl from the Paris Ballet performing an extract from ‘Carnival of the animals’ and it went on.

The finale emphasised by a brief but impressive firework display set us up nicely for a long and very tiring drive back to Bon Abri and bed (at 4:30 am).

A musical round trip through Bergerac from Bon Abri gites

The beautiful and compact city of Bergerac is less than an hour from Puymangou and the gites at Bon Abri. The lovely city of Bergerac was not our primary destination but it proved to be a very entertaining one.

It was a delightful, warm day preceded by a cloudless blue sky even before the sun rose. Taking our cue from the calm dawn we made a very slow start to the morning. Lounging, as we did, at a table on the lawn with fresh strawberries picked before the sun could warm them was a delight. These were the first of the year and we savoured them. I have nurtured and netted them, watched and watered them and anticipated that first bite, My delight in finding that the rabbits seem to avoid them just added to the juicy full flavour as we sank our teeth into them.

By the time that we were heading south down through the deep green and speckled forest clouds had drawn a thin veil over the sky. We passed through the busy market in Mussidan, a business-like town pressed up against the Isle river, and then along the fertile and rolling valley of the Crempse river. In contrast to the steep, dense and dark Forêt de la Double this was open, manicured and neat.

Our destination was the tiny village of Campsegret that appears to sit on a hillside like a jumble of badly stacked books on a rickety bookcase. This is where the animal charity, Phoenix, runs its book sale twice per year. I will not dwell on the good work that Phoenix do but it is sad that they are needed to help the domestic animals that are treated as accessories and disposable items here. The book sale is an impressively organised operation with marshals directing cars full of books in and empty cars out. All the while streams of people pour in with or without books they want to pass on and everyone seems to leave staggering under the staggering piles of books. All of the books are in good condition and most cost a single Euro each. Briskly passing the long counter of sweet and savoury food, cakes, tarts, sandwiches, pies and on and on with a large brigade of very busy helpers bringing you that oh so tempting sweet thing (or is that just me – no it seems to be almost everyone), you can browse through the books. To stay is to drown. The longer you are there the more books keep appearing and the longer you will stay.

Throughout the year books are collected and cleaned, sifted and sorted, stacked and stored ready for the next sale. It is an operation that brings delight to many who voraciously read their way through lazy, insect droning, hot summer days or chilly, wind-swept winter evenings huddles around the wood-burner.

We left with a smaller pile of books than we came with so we stuck to our game-plan. We headed back into the rolling hills past meadows carpeted with orchids. Most were the purple pyramidal orchid but some, less obtrusive orchids bobbed in the breeze and waved their sinuous tongues (Lizard orchid) to attract passing insects.

On into Bergerac and we parked close to Place Gambetta and the historic centre.

As we made our way through the square we realised that the jazz festival was in full swing. We checked the performance list for the afternoon and then strolled down through the old town and its cobbled, narrow streets like ancient cliffs of medieval brick and plaster, mostly beautifully restored.

A lot of restoration work has been done and a huge amount is still under-way. It is pleasing to note however that visual intrusion and the blight that construction work necessarily involves has been kept to a minimum and well disguised.

Back in place Gambetta we sat with glasses of wine and enjoyed a couple of hours of excellent music from Purple Blues and from Serge Molinier Trio.

Topped off with a pan au raisin from a baker who had the biggest selection of artisan breads I have ever seen our day was completed by the final leg of our round-trip to Bon Abri gites in Puymangou.

Into south west Charente from Bon Abri Gites

As one sits on the patio behind the Old Apple Store with a glass of wine one will be gazing out across the vines in the field below, over the trees to the river Dronne and beyond to the low, rolling hills of southern Charente.This corner of the Charente is home to more than its fair share of unique, stunning and generally surprising churches that are the heart of each village.

One of these churches is l’eglise Saint Arthemy set in the centre of the town of Blanzec-Porteresse. The town sits on the side of a gentle hill that rambles up from the river né in a lazy sprawl of ancient grey stone.

The church, in all its odd lines; dominates the tiny town square. We visited Blanzac, as so often happens, by accident rather than design.

Outside it has the usual evidence of changes in shape, form and scale over the years as good and bad times have taken their toll; replaced transepts, extensions, demolitions and repair. The real prize however is on the inside where recently discovered wall paintings map changes in style, technique and expressions of past devotion.

The oldest are on the supports of the central bell-tower. This tower looks odd from below. It seems to have been left behind after an older church was taken away and a newer, bigger one built around it.

But I digress, back to the pillars where paintings of armed knights stand guard in black and red, wrapped in chain mail, swords resting on their shoulders and shields at the ready. These are probably the earliest images in the church and date from the12th century

Back up the nave, along the south wall and set in ornate carved niche are some 14th C frescoes showing the crucifixion. Here a very animated conversation between the sun and the moon seems to be taking place around Christ’s head.

The 15th C is represented by a very nice presentation of the annunciation on one wall of the south transept. There are some odd things going on in this cartoon that I have not got to the bottom of yet. Even so the image of the angel Gabriel is superb.

The 16th C is represented by a huge picture of Saint Christopher carrying the infant Jesus across the river. This is also set on the south wall of the nave and is in a fairly bad state.

Finally a set of frescoes from the 19th Century have been painted onto the cardinal walls of both the north and the south transepts. I don’t know whether the pictures were originally as dramatic as they now are or whether the effects of age and time have changed the colours but they are superb pictures of stormy skies and heavy weather. The great ship struggling along the coast in one has the feel of the Marie Celeste to it.

This short drive north from Bon Abri gites opened up an absorbing afternoon of contemplation. We balanced this by a coffee in the closest of several cafés around the square.

Bon Abri Gites – Sardines and déjeuner sur l’herbe

For the next two-days the greatest fair in this part of France will showcase a wide range of animals and birds (big and small) from beef on the hoof that arrives in farmers trailers and leaves in abattoir trucks to flocks of day-old chicks clicking a chirping in their boxes.

If you want a part for your tractor, a ride on a carousel or a hand-made Boudin noir then somewhere in this wooded field that stretches out like a small town you will find it. The range of produce is stunning and it is a wonderful sight.

The Foire La Latière is set in the middle of La forêt de la Double outside the town of St Aulaye in the Dordogne. It is about 15-minutes from Bon Abri Gites.

Last night we helped our colleagues from Asso3D pitch their tent (gazebo in reality) ready to showcase the dangers of allowing giant wind-turbines into this wonderful part of France.

In delightful French fashion the ‘topping out ceremony’ was celebrated with déjeuner sur l’herbe.

Fortunately, as the sun had set and the night was turning chilly, the ladies kept their clothes on. The food and wine did not include sardines. Even a frozen fish could not be hammered into the ground. Sardine is the French word for a tent-peg.

La Foire La Latière is well worth a visit; if you are there then come and meet our colleagues.

Santé

La foire la Latière

Asso3D

Bon Abri Gites – This time Brantome and Bourdeilles

Easter weekend, the promise of a change in the weather and advertisements for a lot of events throughout the Dronne valley and beyond; sounds like the recipe for a great weekend. Surprising as it may seem we set off from Bon Abri gites towards Bourdeilles (see previous post). The weather was dull, grey and rather unpromising. We didn’t stop in Bourdeilles but took the road along the north side of the river Dronne that leads through the limestone cliffs along le forge du Diable.

The grotesquely sculpted cliffs loomed above us and in some cases hung above the road in sensuous, mossy, green draped curves. Between the road and the river the tangled and tortured trees dripped with ferns and mosses framing small views of the twisting water.

In areas where the cliffs dip or move further from the present course of the river large farmsteads, small castles and pompous chateaux rise from the trees.

In Brantome, after accidentally driving through the market that flowed and eddied along the sides of the river, we parked in Jardin de Moines on the opposite bank to the Abbey. For a couple of hours we walking through the stalls and the streets, visited the new Tourist Office (in the converted Église Notre-Dame) and finishing with a coffee in a busy bar. We left Brantome and set off to Saint Pancrace. On the road north out of Brantome we passed a huge stele built in monumental style.

In geometric relief were the names of 26 men and women who were executed on 23rd August 1944. Turning off the Nontron road and following a narrow lane that wound through the thickly wooded and rolling hills we passed a resistance memorial to three people executed on the 27th March 1944. About 200m further along, deep in the shade of the dripping trees, we came to another memorial to a further 2 who were executed on the same day as the other three.

We stopped for a picnic in a very quiet wood close to the road before setting off to visit a retirement home. It was not your normal retirement home, sombre, smelling of pee, with bingo and non-stop tv; this was acres of green fields immaculately tended with a large stone built farmhouse, a gite, wooden stables and an exhibition room. This was ‘Brantome Police Horses’ and we had come to meet some of the residents and have tea with scones, cream and jam.

These horses, retired from the Metropolitan and Bristol and Somerset Police for financial or health reasons, are brought here to live out their days in the rolling hills and open spaces of this charity farm. Some of the animals had been walked in from the fields and we were introduced to them, given a brief, censored, summary (there were young people present) of the animals previous life and given the opportunity to get close and familiar with them.

An 18 hand horse is a massive beast. Strange as it may seem it was an incredible way to spend an afternoon and we were only about an hour and a half from Bon Abri and our gites.

We spent the night in a chambre d’hote below the stark walls of the castle in Bourdeilles. Next morning, after a leisurely breakfast with the chambre owners, we drove through the villages on the right bank of the river before taking a picnic close to the Bourdeilles lavoir. Here we met up with an organised group for an accompanied nature walk.

The promenade nature was led by Bernard Bébé and his wife Nicole.

 

They are knowledge, passionate, interesting, entertaining and completely obsessed with, by and about flowering plants.

Over a fascinating 2 hours we covered less than a mile walking from clump of green to clump of green with our heads bent and backs stooped.

Bernard and Nicole are the authors of a massive, well-structured reference book to the flowering plants of the Dordogne.

On the return home we went through more stunning limestone scenery along the river to a small walnut oil mill (Moulin de Rochereuil) that clings desperately to the rocks in mid-stream.

This had been a great couple of days out and only an hour or so from Bon Abri.

If a visit to the ‘Brantome Police Horses’ should inspire you to try your hand at riding we have been to talk to a couple of local stables that provide riding facilities for all levels of skill and experience around Bon Abri.

Bernard et Nicoles book – http://www.tela-botanica.org/actu/article6599.html
Brantome Police Horses – http://www.brantomepolicehorses.com/