It is a country of enchantment which poets have staked out and which they alone may lay claim to. It is nearest thing to Paradise this side of Greece… I believe that the Cro-Magnon man settled here because he was extremely intelligent and had a highly developed sense of beauty.
Henry Miller, The Colossus of Maroussi (1941), p.4
Until the recent disruption, tourism was booming as never before. At the height of summer, forget the traffic jams and lines at airport security, the real metaphor for this tourist age can be found in the queue at the painted Périgord cave of Font-de-Gaume before 7.30 in the morning. You have to present yourself on a numbered seat to stand a chance, over the course of the day, of accessing the magical world of Cro-Magnon cave artists. Having passed through that looking-glass ten years ago, I can only assure the patient visitors it is an experience like no other. Visiting last summer, though, I raced past that line, heading through thick oak coppices towards what is surely one of the most remarkable archaeological enterprises in the world today: Lascaux IV.
Following my iPhone GPS, I emerged from the Vézère Valley into a vast open area with a low monolithic concrete splinter – a contemporary falaise – to one side of an immense, newly planted plaza and a yawningly large car park. The post-modern splinter is, of course, the modern answer to a Périgord cliff-face, with entry points guarded by flocks of young custodians in matching Lascaux vests.
