Let’s be honest, it hadn’t been a good day. Villandry had been a tad disappointing due to the fact that, despite the 52 kilometres of trimmed hedges, there was little colour in the garden and it was mid-spring. As we headed south, aiming for near Sarlat, time seemed to roll slowly by and, instead of being on a motorway, we were zig-zagging across France using all manner of roads because I’d missed a key turn-off from the motorway. As Lorraine pointed out, “We shouldn’t be on this, there’s no centre line.”
Having spent probably about 10 months driving in Europe, I realised that maybe it was just normal. However, we compounded our situation by entering a couple of incorrect leads into the navigation system so, although we were heading the right direction generally, it wasn’t the quickest route… by about two hours.
Now, that wouldn’t worry me, but with Lorraine, it’s a completely different kettle of fish. If it gets past lunchtime and we’re not already booked into our new accommodation, she starts to fret and it gets increasingly worse as the hours pass.
Then we came down a small hill into a village and I couldn’t stop saying “magic”, such was the inherent beauty of the place. Since it was nigh on dark and we might never see the place again, I insisted on stopping just to take a couple of shots while Lorraine, map in hand, chatted up the locals to try and ascertain directions. When I returned I had Lorraine’s assistants write down the name of the village. Ségur-le-Château – I wouldn’t forget that in a hurry.
Around dinnertime we were very near our new digs and stopped to get some refreshments and directions from the locals. Turns out we weren’t that far away, but it would have been tricky had we not received that local input.
The next day, having missed Hautefort, we opted to make that our goal. I sneakily checked on the computer and noted that it was about 40 minutes away from Ségur and, in the back of my mind, hoped beyond hope that we could fit in a repeat visit there as well.
Hautefort, a chateau set atop a rocky outcrop overlooking a village, more than met our expectations.The French garden with its wonderful topiary was a dramatic opening to the interior of the chateau, owned by Baron Henry de Bastard and his wife Simone for much of the 20th century.
Though a fire in 1968 had cruelly destroyed some of the interior, it had been refurbished in style and they’d even dug up some tapestries on the open market pertaining to this very grand house. Feeling pleased with ourselves at such a joyous visit I thought it a good time to suggest Ségur as our next stop and soon we were on our way, winding across the back roads of France yet again, mostly without centre lines, distinctly rural in nature and crying out for camera stops.
It hardly seemed like we’d found the right place, arriving from a different direction as we were, but soon the charms of Ségur-le-Château overwhelmed us yet again. A partially ruined chateau set atop the highest point of a bend in the river surrounded by all manner of architecture astride narrow twisting rues left you with a feeling of enchantment. It had been the home of the Viscounts of Limoges when they set up the castle in the 12th century. Between the 15th and 18th centuries it was the seat of the Appeals Court and prospered accordingly.
We ate at a café by the River Auvezere, served by a couple of local men with a sense of humour and watched by a couple of ducks and a Scottish terrier. This was what we’d come to France for, to sup with the locals midst a mediaeval atmosphere.
For more than two hours afterwards we wandered the few streets of Ségur, stopping every five metres to take yet more photographs. Half-timbered houses, waterfalls, medieval architecture – this place had it all. At day’s end we rejoiced that we’d each done something we wanted and had also enjoyed the other’s choice.
