I walk up the aisle, deep into the hillside, to see frescoed faces with almond eyes, and carved angels whose wings seem to flutter around their feet like windblown dresses.

Then we head up into the fan-vaulted chapel down into the catacombs, where three figures are carved into the domed roof, embracing as they soar from their tombs and on into a hangar-like underground church, where iron corsets prop up the stout columns - and the town - above our heads. On a tour, I clamber down into the grotto where Émilion’s bones were kept until they were stolen during the Renaissance. The first tourists were on their way.Īnd still they come. He had a huge basilica carved from the soft rock, perched a tall spire on top of the cliff to act as a marker, and sat back. In the 12th century, an enterprising aristocrat who owned the land surrounding Émilion’s tomb decided that by building an underground church - like those in Turkey’s Cappadocia he’d seen en route to the Crusades - he could attract more visitors and stimulate the local economy. He took up residence here in the eighth century after his death, his tomb drew followers and before long the town was a stop on the Camino de Santiago pilgrimage route. Before it was a wine hub, this was a place of pilgrimage, popularised by a monk called Émilion (after whom the town is named, although, confusingly, he was never canonised). Saint-Émilion is where I first head underground. And to really get to know this region, I’ll venture into caves sculpted by underground rivers, walking in the footsteps of some of the first humans. Alongside castles are modest country pads with cottage-style gardens as well as Cotswolds-esque towns and villages. I’ve come here to experience the natural side of the Dordogne, tracing the river from Saint-Émilion to the border with the Lot. They thread along its banks as it runs from the Auvergne region to Bordeaux, where it meets the Garonne River and empties into the Atlantic. The Dordogne River, meanwhile - shrouded by a thick stripe of woodland, hazy in the distance beyond the Brunet Gate - is best known for its honey-hued stone towns and clifftop castles. Saint-Émilion is famous for its wineries. Two sheep were pressing themselves up against a gate in the medieval wall, thrusting their muzzles towards me. At least there was quiet until I heard a rustle of leaves and a gentle ‘baah’.

Dordogne river underwater