Somewhere on the narrow road between Margaux and Pauillac, the old cynicism melted away. I'd had three days of driving all around Bordeaux, meeting relaxed, open people instead of the predicted shoal of suits, and tasting plenty of good wines at prices even a non-chateau-dweller could afford. Now here, on a sunny July morning, was the epicentre of it all.
The great chateaux, ranged to right and left, flash by like a slide-show - turreted Palmer, palatial Gruaud-Larose, rosefringed Leoville-Barton, fairytale Pichon-Longueville, sterner-looking Pichon-Lalande across the road, with Latour's famous tower poking up from a glossy green sea of vines. If you're anywhere remotely near Bordeaux and any way remotely interested in wine, drive the D2 through the Medoc. You'll feel a fresh frisson of excitement every minute.
It hasn't always looked this good. "Fifteen years ago, it was a desert," says Sylvie Cazes-Regimbeau of Chateau Lynch-Bages. "Nobody came here. The chateaux were in terrible condition, behind big, locked gates. The owners didn't want to let anybody see anything." Succinctly, she zips through half a century of Bordeaux history. The 1950s saw gradual recovery from the war years; the 1960s, poor vintages and lack of money; the 1970s were good until the oil crisis of 1974, with some technological advances. In the 1980s, she says: "Everything we needed - big improvements in technology, big improvements in the vineyards, a booming world economy and a series of great vintages. All of that helped to change the landscape."
Are we in the middle of a new golden age? Sitting in the salon of elaborately restored Chateau Pichon-Longueville, Sylvie is wary of taking all the new grandeur for granted. "You can only speak of a golden age when it lasts. We'll have to wait and see."
Up the road in Saint-Estephe, her friends Laurent and Thierry Gardinier represent the new generation at Chateau Phelan-Segur, a magnificent property built by Bernard Phelan of Clonmel in the 1820s. Having sold two major champagne houses, Pommery and Lanson, their father had a bundle of francs to spend on improvements when he bought into Bordeaux 15 years ago. "Anybody who has some passion can do what we do," says Thierry, who abandoned the perfume business to fine-tune the cellar of a grand cru. "It's not a special talent - just a matter of enthusiasm and dedication." Yeah, but money helps. In all the swanky appellations, Bordeaux has been raking it in like never before through the 1990s - so while it's rewarding to see top-level wines getting consistently better, through investment in vineyards and cellar, so they jolly well should. More striking - for everyday consumers, at least - is the way the quality message is finally trickling down, through lesser regions, to plain old mass-market Bordeaux where, heaven knows, there's room for improvement. The wines are growing smoother every year, as ways are found to ripen grapes more fully and tame tannins. Praise the Lord.
First, a couple of hot tips - appellations to comb for well-made wines that don't (yet) cost the earth. The Cotes de Castillon, adjoining Saint-Emilion, is the one the smart money is on - a pretty region of family estates on soil very similar to its famous neighbour's, but at a fifth of the price. Catherine Papon of Chateau Peyrou (not yet known in Ireland, but watch this space), tells of fiery arguments with her father, a vigneron from the generation that embraced chemical fertilisers and mechanisation with glee. "My generation is going back to more natural methods," she says.
Still on the right bank of the Gironde but further north, the Cotes de Blaye is another area on the up. At Chateau Bertinerie, for instance, Eric Bantegnies is fastidious in his approach, determined to strive for quality in an appellation where, despite promising and varied soils, land is still relatively inexpensive. "You can buy a nice old house and ten hectares here for half-a-million francs - much less than the cost of a weekend house in Deauville - so people can come here and play at living the wine dream."
ARE you tempted? When Alan Johnson-Hill swapped life as a Hong Kong businessman for ownership of dreamy Chateau Meaume, he describes a rather different sort of dream. "Sue and I barely drank wine!" he exclaims, as if still stunned by the impudence of it. "I came here so that I would never have to wear a tie again." Arriving 20 years ago, they had the good luck to discover that Meaume's wine consultant was Michel Rolland, a man with so many plum jobs these days that he'd be unlikely to look anywhere near a humble Bordeaux Superieur. "At first, I think, he thought this Englishman from Hong Kong was completely nuts, but he gave me an enormous amount of help."
Meanwhile, the insidious wine bug has bitten deeply. "You never expected it to be so fascinating," Sue reminds her husband as he bubbles about the improvements he has overseen in his elegant but cheeringly affordable wine (see Bottle of the Week). She admits that she too has become fascinated by procedures such as pruning and leaf-thinning. "I stopped to show Petrus to friends the other day, and I had to stop myself from fiddling with the vines."
Chateau du Seuil is another wine I'll drink with more respect, having seen how Bob and Sue Watts lavish care on their Graves estate. I've written before about how this Cardiff couple packed in their careers as barrister and estate agent to jump ship for Bordeaux. "Crime or wine . . . which do you think was my favourite?" muses Bob Watts, while barbecuing magret de canard in an idyllic chateau garden. It was more difficult than it looks, clearing park land, planting vines, struggling with the language . . . But the du Seuil wines - the reds every bit as impressive as the whites - suggest the effort has been worthwhile. Look out for Leoville-Barton-like labels emblazoned with a little Welsh dragon. They're even in La Coupole.
At a more basic level, the wine firms don't usually set my heart aflame, but I couldn't help noticing how much better the wines of Calvet have become, with investment in new oak barrels, a new respect for traditional wooden vats and cement tanks, and a lighter hand with filtration. Although this vast negociant house owns no vineyards, it has stepped up its strategy of working closely with growers to secure good grapes. Besides the branded wines, there are some excellent petits chateaux under the Calvet umbrella; let's hope Ireland will see Chateau Cotes de Bellevue Cotes de Bourg and Chateau Tayac Plaisance Margaux soon.
Closer to Christmas, the season of splurging, I'll give details of the de luxe goodies encountered - cru classe Medoc, Sauternes and more. Meanwhile, here are a few more modest bottles which stood out. A tiny, tiny sampling from a region with 57 appellations, 4,800 chateaux, 13,500 growers. . . Just as well Bordeaux isn't the sort of wine that grows tiresome. Years of steady drinking in the name of learning lie ahead.
Vintage snapshot: 1990, 1995, 1996: best of the decade; 1997: lighter wines for earlier drinking; 1998: uneven, but some dense, rich wines that will keep for years.
Most Bordeaux chateaux - even the grandest - welcome visitors who have made an appointment in advance. In the busy season, it's wise to get in touch with the big names a few weeks ahead. The Maison du Vin will help with contact details, maps, background information: tel 0033 5 5600 2288, fax 0033 5 56009930, e-mail civb@vins-bordeaux.fr
Wines of Bordeaux by David Peppercorn, in the Mitchell Beazley Pocket Guides series (£8.99 sterling) is slim but densely packed; check the front-cover small print to make sure you buy the 2000/2001 edition.