After being awoken by roosters outside our hotel window, Vlad and I left St. Cirq-Lapopie for Rocamadour.
Just like the drive to St. Cirq, the drive to Rocamadour was equally as spectacular.
Although the tiny houses we passed didn’t change, the landscape did. In just a few minutes, the landscape went from rolling hills and fields, to rocky cliffs with scrubby trees.
Along the way we passed more small towns, and in one we saw a sign for a Roman church, so at my request/demand, we pulled over.
Walking through the town was like stepping back into the Middle Ages.
It was eerily empty and quiet; the only sign of life we saw was one little boy darting behind a building. Only after several minutes walking around did we realize that we were whispering to each other. But somehow it felt wrong to speak loudly, it was as if we were in a museum, or time travelling and we couldn’t disrupt the past.
The little town was full of fruits; there were apples, peaches, figs and grapes everywhere.
We had not eaten breakfast yet, so Vlad picked a bunch of apples and carried them back to the car in his shirt. This is coincidentally when my camera battery died, so I don’t have any pictures of the little apples we picked, but they were delicious. We ate them the rest of the car ride.
When we returned to the road, the cliffs quickly began to get steeper and the road wound higher and higher around the edge. We were sure that at any moment we would go around one of the many hairpin turns and see Rocamadour, but it remained elusive.
We held our breath around each turn, not sure what we should expect. The anticipation mounted until finally we did turn a corner and laid eyes on the beginning of Rocamadour.
A few more feet and we were rewarded with a beautiful view:
And that was just the beginning!