Sarlat is built of honey-coloured limestone, and when the evening sun hits it, the whole medieval town glows as if lit from inside. It lies in the Périgord Noir, a region of walnut groves, oak woods and steep green valleys in the Dordogne, and its centre is one of the best-preserved in France, a maze of lanes, courtyards and stone staircases that escaped the demolition fever of the nineteenth century. Pointed turrets, carved doorways and tall slate roofs crowd every street, and filmmakers have used it so often that locals barely look up when a camera crew appears. The writer Étienne de La Boétie, the close friend of Montaigne, was born here in 1530.
Food is the other main attraction. This is the land of foie gras, duck confit, walnuts and truffles, and the Saturday morning market, spilling through the old centre, is a theatre of baskets, cheeses and cured sausages that has been going for centuries. There is also a strange stone tower on the hill above the cathedral, the Lanterne des Morts, built in the twelfth century and thought to be a funerary beacon, though nobody can say exactly what for. Sit in a square in the evening with a glass of Bergerac and you will see why people stay longer than they planned.
For motorcyclists, Sarlat is a friendly start to the Dordogne valley route. The centre is largely pedestrianised, so park in one of the car parks on the edge, where bikes are usually tolerated, and walk in. A town of eleven thousand has fuel stations on the ring road, bakeries that open early and enough cafés to make leaving hard. Heading south, the road drops toward the river and runs through villages of ochre stone, past the cliff-hugging castles of Beynac and Castelnaud and the bastide village of Domme on its high rock. The corners are gentle, the surface mostly smooth, and the views across the valley are long and green.
Summer is busy, with caravans and coaches on the narrow roads, so aim for early morning or late afternoon, and spring and autumn are far better. In October, the oaks go bronze, mist lies in the valley and the smell of woodsmoke and walnuts hangs in the air. It is a good time to be hungry.