Tuesday 13th
At breakfast we were entertained by another bird - this one a largish colourful pigeon-type one - flitting among the trees surrounding us. The closest we came to identifying it was as a jay.

We found what attracts people to Sarlat - the old town. This indeed was perhaps the most picturesque and charming centre we have been to, full of narrow alleys, stone stairs leading to all sorts of nooks and crannies, streets and squares crowded with medieval and Renaissance buildings. At every turn you wanted to say: 'Oh, this is worth a photo.'

Only trouble was, it had been discovered by tourists! And the locals and the authorities had taken advantage of this beautiful asset. The mansions had been restored and the lovely honey-coloured stonework cleaned up to look like it had probably never been. And walking around, you had to fight your way round multitudes of chairs and tables (every building seemed to have been converted into a restaurant that spread into the narrow walkways) and groups of people standing around as a guide spouted out the local history.

It was the same story at Domme, an old village clinging to a rocky crag, giving marvellous views over the lovely Dordogne valley. Here they even had one of those street 'trains' such as they have at amusement centres to take trippers around the sights. Still, both centres were well worth the visits. We had our lunch in a Domme car park, unfortunately walled so we could not gaze over the magnificent panoramic view.

Then it was on down along the valley bottom through places such as La Roque-Gageac (where the Tarde Manor, nestling into the cliff face was the home of 16th century humanist Canon Tarde) Beynac and St Cyprien, more extremely picturesque villages fighting for space between the large Dordogne river and the even larger cliff faces.

'Ferme camping': We had the site to ourselves

We followed signs to 'ferme camping' which turned out to be a very pleasant - and deserted - green field site with a volleyball net. Over this we played badminton in the warm evening sun, before eating our meal in the open air, watching the antics of a mother duck and her 13 ducklings touring the field. Lovely.

Wednesday 14th

One of the delightful alleys of the unspoilt village of Limeuil

Woke up to clear skies and a warm sunny day. First stop was nearby Limeuil, a village set on a steep hill. What a contrast to Sarlat and Domme. Here the medieval houses squeezing close together within a boundary wall were untouched, the tourists few, and the restaurants and cafes none at all. The alleys were often just grass - be it cut and well kept - bordered with well-watered geraniums, roses and other colourful flowers.

We followed a non-tourist trail that took us through Tremolat (where Le Boucher was filmed) and along the valley top seeing the Dordogne winding like a serpent through the pine forests. Wending our way down along one-lane roads, we came to Monpazier, a fortified town built by Edward I of England. We loved it. As you could only enter through narrow arches through the town walls, we walked in along the alleys between old buildings to a delightful square, surrounded by ancient arcades. Again, it was so uncommercial.

Then we were following the River Lot coming eventually to the town of Cahors where we hunted out what is reportedly one of the world's most beautiful bridges. From the side of the river we were on, it was so unromantic.

Described as one of the most beautiful bridges in the world - Valentre - over the River Lot

Industrial, busy with workers heading for home with difficult-to-find places to park, there was certainly no special effort to attract the tourists! But despite its setting, Valentre, a fortified medieval bridge with three slim towers, was worth finding. It had only recently been closed to traffic, so we could walk across the narrow way - there was no pavement.

It was time to find a campsite, so we headed on up the Lot, manoeuvring at one stage past a horn-blowing minibus towing a trailer full of canoes going round and round and round a roundabout in some sort of victory celebration, then past fields of sunflower and sweetcorn until we followed a camping sign up the valley side to find a small site in a wooded area.

Thursday 15th
The French around here like to live life on the very edge - many of the houses perch at the top, and even slightly over, cliff faces. Or they are not bothered about having back gardens, their houses built right up to the base of cliffs.

This was the scene again and again as we toured up the gorge that was the Lot valley, in search of reputedly the most beautiful village in France. This is St Cirq-Lapopie and the first signposted turning indicated a road across a very long and very narrow bridge across the wide Lot river. Up there, I said to Pat, who was driving. As it was a right-angled junction from the narrow road we were on, it took some three-point turning to manoeuvre into, much to the amusement, or impatience, of the French car driver behind.

Just halfway into all this, we noticed the width restriction sign on the bridge. We weren't going to fit! There followed more three-point turning to extricate ourselves.

We carried on up the D662 which hugged the cliff face, half burrowed into it and at one stage tunnelled through it. It was a quarter way into the tunnel that we came to a full stop. Pat couldn't find the headlights switch!

After the most beautiful bridge, France's 'most beautiful village' - St Cirq-Lapopie

We eventually found another bridge to cross and then climbed the far side of the valley to reach St Cirq-Lapopie perched on rock high above the dreamy river with beautiful old houses, narrow steep streets, artisan shops, a fortified 15th century church and the remains of a 13th century chateau.

We had the plat de jour for lunch at a restaurant in the shade of its vine overlooking the red-tiled old roofs.

We skirted Figeac as it was rush hour, and found a fairly commercial campsite next to the river just outside town. And after re-adjusting their computer records, they agreed to let us change from our shady allotted pitch into a sunny one.

Friday 16th
Decided to head for the Pyrenees, so pointed ourselves south and after a few more medieval towns and villages perched on hilltops, we were into rolling wheat-cropped hills. While we have been meandering around the Dordogne and Lot area, we were doing a very respectable 34 miles to the gallon of diesel. On the straighter, quicker, roads today, that has dropped to about 27 miles to the gallon. The 2.5TD Fiat engine has so far gone sweetly all the way.

Decided to camp early in a very pleasant municipal sight next to an old watermill and fast flowing river at a place called Larrazet, an hour south-west of Montauban. The place was deserted except for the odd fisherman. Later that evening one other lot of campers arrived - a British couple.

Part 2

These articles were originally posted to the Motorhome List. They appear here, with the addition of the photos, with the kind permission of the author, Tim Sinclair.