To See Again the Stars: Château La Lagune, 2000 – 2023
I came into a place mute of all light.
– Dante Alighieri, Inferno, Divine Comedy (c.1314)
Starting out at about 5:30 am, before sunrise, the idea of a morning run along the gloomy streets of Ludon-Médoc seemed like a good idea.
And indeed that was how it initially panned out. The streets of Feydieu, to the west of Ludon-Médoc, are blessed with pavements and a plentiful supply of streetlights, and I soon struck a decent rhythm, heading west along suburban avenues, before turning north. I cruised past one of the many ponds that scar the Médoc, old wounds from where gravel was excavated to build the Pont d’Aquitaine, the towering suspension bridge which spans the Garonne just downstream of Bordeaux, before trotting past Château Paloumey.
Continuing north, the houses and pavements yielded to rural road, the route turning dark with overhanging trees, but I could see the safety of more street lights in the distance, and so I persevered. Before long I was north of Château Cantemerle, hunting for the D2, and the southward return. It would soon be time for breakfast, before a long day of tasting.
This is where things started to go wrong.
The D2 is renowned as the Route des Châteaux, a long strip of tarmac winding its way north along the Médoc, from the most southerly vineyards all the way up to Château Cos d’Estournel in
St Estèphe and beyond. Despite having driven up and down its length many times over the past twenty years, there is something about this route I have never really taken notice of before this moment.
It has no pavements. And no street lights.
At least, not this section.
My morning run quickly descended into some Dante-esque ordeal. With no moonlight, no sign of dawn, no streetlights and no passing cars I found myself running in a void of inky blackness, a place that really was – as Dante put it – mute of all light. There was literally nothing to be seen, my eyes failing to make out any shapes in the dark expanse before me. I knew the road was there, as I could feel it beneath my feet, but there were no other anchors for my eyes to latch onto. I might as well have been running with my eyes closed.
It reminded me of a recurring nightmare I had as a child, the one where I was falling through space, through nothingness, forever, with no hope of rescue (I think other children have nightmares about ghosts, skeletons and malevolent crocodiles – I can’t help it if I’m different!). Unlike a nightmare, however, there was no hope of waking up. Pushing a slight feeling of despair back down where it belonged, I realised I had no option other than to soldier on. I continued to run through the vacuum, occasionally hopping into the roadside ditch to evade oncoming headlights (which at least told me I was still on the road).
After an age (well, closer to 11 minutes actually) I returned to the world of light. The streetlamps of the roundabout joining the Avenue de l’Europe and the D2 showed me the way, and just to the east, the lights of Château La Lagune.
