Grotte de Niaux July 25, 2010

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Internet access is intermittent. This post is #3 of 3; scroll down and read from the bottom up, to read them in order.

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Niaux is a small village a few kilometres from Tarascon-en-Ariege (to distinguish it from the other Tarascon or Tarascons—one finds many towns with the same name in France), one whose claim to fame is the Grotte, the kilometers-long cave which contains some of the most elaborate and beautiful cave art we know, painted by the Magdalenian people 13,000 to 14,000 years ago.

Twenty of us were on the English tour. Entrance to the caves is carefully controlled, as it has been found that light, dust and even the breathing of visitors cause these ancient masterpieces to degrade. (Lascaux has been closed because more degradation had occurred in the few years people had been visiting than had occurred over thousands of years previously; the Lascaux that people now tour is a replica. At Niaux, we were fortunate to see the real thing.) A man at the reception desk begged to be allowed on the tour, but was refused, and told the next available spot was at 1:30 that afternoon.

Our guide showed us on a map where we would be going, 800 meters into the mountain, to what has been named the Black Chamber. Here were discovered, about a hundred years ago, many depictions of animals (most other parts of the cave contain painted symbols, but not animals) painted only in black manganese. (Iron ore was used elsewhere, to paint in red.) We were given flashlights, told to turn them on and leave them on when instructed (this was a no-nonsense guy), and were led through two doors meant to keep the caves sealed. We walked slowly through narrow passages and large caverns. Our lights were dim, our footsteps echoed. There were some, but not a lot, of stalactite-stalagmite formations, but this cave, in general, is a dry one. At times, the guide would stop and explain some features, or warn us about slippery spots or low headroom.

We passed grafiti, dated from as early as the 1680’s. Then we reached a junction with another passageway where there were paleolithic designs drawn, lines and dots mostly, in black and red. The guide was clear that we have no idea what any of the signs might mean, just as we have no idea why the people painted, or why they painted what they painted. The meaning has all been lost; the images remain to make us wonder. We moved deeper into the cave.

Finally, our guide told us to put our flashlights on a rock and turn them off. We proceeded by the light of his torch alone. He led us to a railing, and gathered us together, turned his light off for a moment of total darkness, then turned on a permanent floodlight. There was a collective gasp as the cave wall was lit and the images emerged: bison, horses, ibexes, many of them. They filled the space, overlapping in places, some incomplete, some with painstaking detail. The guide used the shadow of his hand to outline animals we may not have noticed. He showed us how the artists used the contour of the rock to create gesture: a bison appears to be turning its head, a horse’s jawline juts. He told us about technique; these painters brought their pigments and brushes with them, they lit their way with grease lamps (pots of animal fat with wicks—the remains have been found). They came here just to paint, and they came to the same spot over and over again. The earliest paintings are a thousand years older than the most recent. Even those later painters must have marvelled at the antiquity of what was already there. No one knows why they painted what they did; we can only guess. Theories have been that it was about the hunt, but bison are the most painted animal, and it is known that these people did not hunt bison, and bison were only found far away, on the plains. These people hunted mainly small animals such as rabbit and birds, but there are no paintings of either.

We moved along to another wall of the same cavern. Again a moment of darkness, and again the gasp when the wall was revealed. Really, these things will move you to tears.

We then moved to the middle of the immense chamber. The guide explained that one theory is that this chamber, alone of many, was chosen for its acoustic properties, and he asked if there was a singer among us. He turned out the light and waited. A man with a magnificent voice began to sing, something that sounded like plainchant. The rest of us were struck dumb.

The moment was over. We picked up our flashlights and made our way out of the cave, and back to the day.




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