It is not the most glamorous time to be a grape grower. I’m reminded of this in the midst of a downpour, as I trudge through shin deep mud on my way to cut rotten bunches out of barely ripe Riesling. I pull my hood tight and turn on my radio headphones in hopes of a distraction from the gloom. “There will likely be snow next week,” the announcer says as I slop past many tons of yet to be harvested Cabernet Sauvignon and Shiraz. Icewine anyone?
It’s been that kind of year. As farmers we’re quite accustomed to being at the mercy of mother nature, and have in fact been spoiled by six consecutive years of decent growing conditions – with a couple of real beauties sprinkled in! It’s rare in any type of farming to have more than a few good years in row. Hence, you’re never as rich as your best year and you’re never as poor as your worst.
At times like this it’s important to remember that you can only do everything in your power to give yourself the chance to produce premium fruit. I’m confident we’ve done just that and I still believe it a possibility to craft great wines from these grapes, albeit with less room for error.
My parents remind me of the “old days” when wet vintages seemed to be a little more common. Tales of stuck harvesters and trucks – and fields so saturated with water that the only choice was to hand pick and hand load (no tractor!) whole vineyard blocks thick with fruit. It stands to reason that in wet years the crop is usually much heavier and far more difficult to harvest.
I finally get to Jean’s Block and in the time it takes me to knock the clods of mud off my boots, the rain abruptly stops. Halfway down the first row I fail to discover as many rotten clusters as I had anticipated and the sun even threatens to peek out of the clouds. As I approach the old pear tree hill that is now Ravine Vineyard I start to smell the most amazing aromas coming from atop the hill. I’m reminded of the hearty lunches that we traditionally enjoy on those cold harvest days. With that, the glamour returns.