Yesterday, we reached the half way point of harvest. Though it past without fanfare, it was not without notice. We are scheduled to take in 1200 tons of grapes this vintage and with the 75 tons of Shiraz that arrived today, we quietly pushed exactly pass the half way tonnage mark. Only 599 tons left to be picked. As we cleaned up after a long day of crushing, I could feel a collective sense of relief from our crew. Wet, sticky and sunburned, we all made our way into the break room where, stashed in the refrigerator behind the dried yeast packages and ML cultures, was the ice cold “Coopers Ale” we all had been thinking about for the last several hours. In every wine region I’ve work beer has played an important and supportive role. For some reason after working 12 hours, most of it in the blazing Western Australian sun (the whole in the ozone here doesn’t help either), a glass of chilled Chardonnay or a chewy Shiraz just isn’t that appealing. Cold beer on the other hand….ah, now there’s a winemaker’s friend.
Though 1200 tons may seem like a lot of fruit by Oregon standards, around Western Australia it is considered a “moderate”. In Margaret River you don’t have to drive long before you notice, on the horizon, the indistinguishable silhouette of a winery tank farm. Towering even above the massive and ubiquitous Marri and Jarrah trees, these mammoth structures of aluminum catwalks and stainless steel tanks are the winemaking engines driving the wine industry of Western Australia.
So far, we have been fortunate that the steady rains have held off. Yields for most of the Margaret River region seem to be on average, which in agriculture speak translates into “good”. The overall feeling by winemakers on quality is that 2008 will again be a vintage that produces the kind of wine that is quickly making Margaret River one of Australia’s premier wine growing areas. Though there is still time for unwelcome rains to damper this prediction, there is nonetheless a sense of genuine optimism that goes even beyond that natural positive Australian outlook that Americans find so encouraging. Since coming here my half cup of tea has never been so half full.
Back in the break room, the hissing sound of opened beer bottles soon filled the air. Before a sip was taken, however, tradition took over and we raised our glasses, looked each other in the eye, then tipped those glorious brown bottles back. As we sat there quietly savoring our brew, I happened to notice everyone’s hands. Stained purple from wine, cut and scraped from a variety of hazards, dried and cracked from the acidity of juice, these were hands of those who make wine. I then noticed my own. I’ve often thought that the condition of them sometimes serves as an indicator for me of how far along harvest is. I couldn’t help but thinking I had seldom seen them look worse. It must be the Shiraz, I thought. Layer upon layer of wine for the past month have dyed my hands a dirty purple. Every line, wrinkle, cut, crack and pore has been colored by Shiraz, Cabernet, Merlot and Franc. They looked like the hands of someone many years older, like they had touched a lifetime of winemaking experience. As I sat there pondering the thought of whether or not I have permanently ruined my chances of being a hand model, I realized that, as it has been with every harvest, the half-way point is significant. And that is why, with tired smiles that day, we toasted to only 599 tons to go.
