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Entrance
to the fields of
May in France: Sun-warmed stone buildings, intensely blue sky (Annabella assured us it never rains in France) and beautiful flowers.
Annabella lied about the rain! A damp pee-break while the horses graze.
Prince, ready to head out on a new adventure.
The horses enjoy a lunch-time roll.
A relatively modern cliff-house at Les Ezyies.
A tribute to Cro-magnon man. Statue at Les Eyzies. |
HOPPI!
HOPPI! ON THE PERIGORD TRAIL There is something about picking cherries from the back of a horse that makes the fruit otherworldly sweet. And seven hours in the saddle make even duck gizzards go down remarkably well, although abundant red wine helps with those! The horse, cherries and gizzards were all part of the Perigord Trail Ride, based at Domaines des Garennes (Home of the Wild Duck) near Souillac, France. Perigord is located just southwest of the middle of France and is famous for truffles (the fungal variety), pâté de foie gras, walnuts and prehistoric cave paintings. Domaines des Garennes is a riding holiday centre, providing both single-day rides and multi-day treks. The Perigord Trail Ride, which I completed in the company of three Americans, three Germans and the delightful, multi-lingual, tour leader Annabella, lasted six days. The
first and last days involved morning rides only, returning
to des Garennes for a restful afternoon by the swimming
pool. They
provided a warm up for, and wind down from, the middle, arduous
four days journey.
View
to the swimming pool from the bedroom window We rode from five to eight hours on each of those four days, sometimes trotting through forests of walnut trees, glimpsing hilltop chateaux, sometimes walking through ancient villages where we peered through lace curtains into dim interiors to see grandmère peering back at us. There were some wonderful gallops initiated by Annabella’s cry of ‘Hoppi hoppi!’ and a wave of her arm. We galloped by a river under a cliff curving within inches of our heads. We galloped along the verge of a main road racing a big truck which, we were told, would pass both fast and close given the chance. We galloped through open fields, pausing only to pick cherries from the bordering trees. We sat in peaceful silence whilst the horses drank from clear streams. The horses were a mixture of breeds, including Andalusian, Thoroughbred and Heinz 57. Mine was a six-year-old Appaloosa called Prince. Several years younger than the others, Prince was a little intimidated by the nomadic life, but cheerfully opportunistic when it came to mobile eating. Annabella had said that the horses were permitted to eat on the go if we did not mind. Prince and I came to an agreement – he could eat grass any time we were walking and on the right hand side of the road only whilst being led, thereby avoiding pushing me into the left-hand ditches! During the two hour lunch breaks and overnight, the horses were turned out in lush, shady fields. We groomed them every morning and after lunch. We were equally pampered, wining and dining in comfortable hotels of character. One had originally been a convent, later a brothel. At Les Ezyies, the hotel was modern – just another layer of habitation at a site that has provided shelter for ‘man’ for 300,000 years. Each evening we staggered in – hot, dirty and sweaty, to the amused interest of the elegantly attired, more orthodox guests – and downed beer, shandy or juice to rehydrate. A hot bath preceded an apéritif and dinner. After the first day, we learned to pace ourselves in order fully to enjoy all five courses, prepared from fresh local produce. As pâté de foie gras and truffles are only slightly less expensive than gold, we did not sample these. However, we ate duck in all possible variations, including liver pâté – a very adequate substitute for the more expensive goose liver variety. We were also allowed to see a truffle, rather shrivelled and nasty-looking really, proudly presented for our inspection. I found a shop in Les Ezyies, that provided free samples of the other local specialty – walnuts. Walnuts dipped in hazelnut paste and enrobed in white or dark chocolate. Walnuts dipped in caramelized sugar. Walnuts in honey. . .
We frequently led our horses, to stretch our legs, work off the walnuts and to rest their backs. On the last day of the holiday, after the morning ride, we were sent by taxi to Font-de-Gaume, one of the few caves where entry is permitted to view the original paintings. We were led down a long, narrow passage, lit only by the flashlight of the guide. Finally, we stopped in front of a dimly lit wall. The guide started to trace an outline on the wall with her light pointer and gradually a bison emerged from the stone. As our eyes became accustomed to the texture of the cave walls and the darkness, more and more animals appeared – bison, reindeer and horses. The artists of 15,000 years ago had used black monochrome and some light engraving to create the images, but it was the use of the natural contour of the stone that brought to life the prehistoric herds. Bison paraded along the walls and ceiling. Female reindeer knelt before and were nuzzled by their mate. Horses leapt from the mineral deposits of the millennia. It was an incredibly moving experience and a fitting end to a memorable holiday. Domaines des Garennes embodies the spirit of France – beautiful surroundings and wonderful food in an atmosphere of warmth, happiness and generosity.
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