Our European trip this fall was a National Geographic “Human Origins” tour of Paleolithic caves in southwestern France and northern Spain. It was spectacular. We visited two or more caves per day, with breaks in medieval villages, an outdoor museum for flint-knapping and a “paleo” lunch (leaf-wrapped salmon cooked in a pit oven), and gorgeous archaeological museums.
I’ve written before about how painting and writing, my two favorite activities, feed each other. When I have writer’s block, I take a painting break; when the painting is stalled, I return to writing.
This trip provided plenty of inspiration for future stories and imitation rock paintings. My jaw dropped at least once a day, viewing cave paintings that were clearly planned out over stretches of thirty feet or more. The artists used multiple techniques: engraving, sketching with chunks of charcoal, depositing ground pigment (iron oxide, manganese) with blowpipes or daubers, painting with homemade brushes.
Twenty thousand years ago, the painters studied walls to take advantage of natural curves in the rock to design the backs and bellies of bison and reindeer. They used shading to imply depth, and suggested movement of animals by deliberately leaving gaps between the top of some legs and the bodies of their beasts.
The results are stunning, no less than the natural cave formations around the paintings. Stalactites and stalagmites (my husband reminded me of the jingle “the tights go down, the mites climb up” to help remember which is which), columns, and organ pipes greet you around every twisty, slippery corner. Yes, organ pipes that can be played, and music has been written for cave formations.
The smaller French caves were never lived in (too dangerous to light fires with poor air circulation) but were clearly used as places of ritual and worship: think churches, not dwellings. However, one huge cave shelter was once a Paleolithic clothing factory and trading center; archaeologists found tools, bone and shell beads, and other evidence of industry.
The Dordogne region of southwest France is a beautiful country, packed with cave sites and wineries. If you want a virtual visit without suffering an overnight flight, try Martin Walker’s Chief of Police Bruno series set in that very region. Bruno is a war veteran, gourmet cook, and animal owner as well as a country policeman. The author alternates action scenes with descriptions of incredible meals, grape-stomping, truffle-hunting, and fierce games of rugby.
The reason Walker's books are so good is that he lives in the area he writes about at least half of every year. Vive La France!
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