Left Carsac early Tuesday trying to beat the crowds that I was led to believe I would encounter at Rocamadour, a place of pilgrimage since the eighth century (or before). It was sometimes a final destination and sometimes a stop on one of the many routes of the Camino de Santiago (ending hundred of miles further on in northern Spain). Turns out the crowds forgot to show-up that day so had the place much to myself.
One thing that seems to be continually being reinforced on this adventure is that the unexpected event, even though small, is often the highlight of the day.
Leaving Carsac, I rounded a corner on a single track road and came upon a farm with two roosters standing in the middle of the road blocking the way, daring me to approach -- I stopped, rolled slowly towards them -- they just lifted their heads and crowed at me as if to say "this is our road, we're not moving, want to make an issue of it buddy?" Honked my horn, they crowed louder -- it was such a ridiculous scene, I couldn't help but laugh! Thirty seconds later, they both just strutted off the road as if to say "we showed him who's boss!"
As if that wasn't enough, when I arrrived in Rocamadour, the narrow road I was on ended in a "T" intersection. As I started to turn left, I noticed a commotion and a white mass moving towards me on my left -- took me a minute to realize the "mass" was a herd of over a hundred sheep following a woman ringing a cow bell and jogging down the center of the road -- they weren't stopping for anybody! Quickly drove about forty yards down the road, pulled off to the side, grabbed my camera, and stood behind the car next to the road as I was suddenly engulfed in the chaos of the herd, bleating at me, milling around me, literally bumping into me (they're not lightweight animals) hurrying behind the woman. Only took a few seconds for them to pass -- they were being followed by two border collies herding them down the road -- they moved another thirty yards down the road and veered off onto a second road and into a field. A few other people just stood there with their jaws dropping as the herd passed. Never in a million years when I woke up that morning could I have imagined being engulfed in a herd of sheep -- it was definitely the highlight of my day -- and if I'd been a minute earlier or a minute later, it never would've have happened! Like I said, the unexpected -- amazing!
Rocamadour consists of three levels hanging off the side of a cliff above the River Alzou-- the lowest level is the Cite (old village) where pilgrims through the ages used to buy their relics and souvenirs and today houses restaurants and a huge number of small shops, mostly oriented at the "pilgrims" (tourists) journeying here today.
The next level up is a series of sanctuaries (churches/chapels) whre the pilgrims would pay homage -- many seeking cures for their illnesses and answers to their prayers. It is said that as many as thirty thousand people would crowd into the sanctuaries on various "holy" days throughout the year seeking favors from the miraculous statue of the Virgin Mary (Henry Plantagent, King of England in the 1100's was cured here).
On the top (or third level) is a chateau, mostly open to the public for a few francs and from which you have incredible views of the valley and river below.
Linking the Cite and the sanctuaries is a series of 80-100 steep steps cut into the cliff, well worn from the thousands of people who have traversed them over the years -- many of them on their knees doing penance -- many of the steps are also more "C-shaped" than level. Between the sanctuaries and the Chateau are a series of tree-covered and cave-lined switchback paths -- steep is an understatement -- in my opinion they were worse than the steps and they kept on going for what seemed like forever! For those not wishing to experience the suffering of the pilgrims, there were two tramlike transports betwen the Cite, the sanctuaries and the Chateau.
Brilliant me got caught-up in experiencing the pilgrim "thing" and actually started at an even lower river level adding another few hundred feet of elevation -- steps, stairs (think climbing a fire tower) and steep inclines before continuing on the path to the sanctuaries and finally the switchbacks to the Chateau (and then the additional stairs to the ramparts of the Chateau) -- it provided an excellent cardiac workout and let's just say that by the time I reached the Chateau level, I wasn't running and jumping very much! Oh, and then it was back down!
It was nice and I'm glad I visited it, but Rocamadour didn't come close to living up to the hype in the travel publications. Driving away, climbing up the other side of the valley and seeing the place from a distance across the river provided a much more romantic image.
Reached my lodgings for that evening, stopped and got the car washed -- you wouldn't believe how many pigeons there are here! My first automated car wash in France was an experience. Looking nothing like a carwash in the States and located in the parking lot of a large grocery store, this "do-it-yourself", stand-alone operation on a hillside just above the gas pumps, only had instructions in French which is probably where I should have stopped. You needed to get a token at the payment station near the gas pumps but apparently the employee responsible for that function had gone to lunch -- or somewhere, as no one in the store seemd to know where she was or what to do about my getting the car washed -- their recommendation, come back in an hour or two by which time the employee would hopefully have returned.
Again, not my "sharpest hour", I returned found the employee was back and got the tokens and specific instructions from her how to use the wash -- of course they were in French and I didn't understand a word she said -- but how hard could it be. The wash was the smallest structure I'd ever seen -- the "U-shape" with foam brushes that swirled and jets that sprayed water but it was only only eight feet long at the most.
Dropped the token in a slot located away from the structure, the wash started without me, drove over and figured you just drove through it so started through it only to realize something was wrong -- I stepped on the brake but kept going -- turns out there was some kind of a platform under the car that moves the car back and forth through the carwash -- by the time I figured out what was going on, the platform had moved back, I was half on the platform and half off and it started dragging the car back into the whirling brushes which were out of synch with where the car was. Hit the gas and looked at it in the rearview mirror stopping the water spraying and starting the dryer blowing -- hey, but I made it out alive!! Next time I'll know better!
Needing a drink after all that, I headed for a nearby winery that was open for tasting which was unusual. In the States, the wineries have set hours during which they are open for "drop-in" tasting -- here, you typically need to call the winery, ask if you can come and taste their wine and settle on a time convenient for both of you -- typically a day or two in the future. The person at the tourist office just happened to know that the one I visited would be open that afternoon for some other visitors.
When I arrived, other than the person working in the tasting room, I was only one there. She poured me a half a glass, watched me taste it, asked if I wanted more, poured another half glass of the next wine, watched silently, then repeat with the next wine, ... -- half a bottle later I drove away with a bottle of the first wine I tasted. Don't think you'd want to visit too many wineries at a time.
Spent the night at a place owned by a French man and his wife (who had moved from England thirty years ago and forgotten much of her language skills). Very nce time, and I "got" most of what she was communicating!
