Diary Of A Start-Up Winemaker: Welcome To Farming

With a vineyard planted in the "unproven" wilds of wheat country outside The Dalles, Ore., Scott Elder and Stephanie LaMonica struggle to promote their label, The Grande Dalles, and make a go of selling their wine. From the start, the couple has set out to do things their own way, with the belief that staying out of the crowd is better than being lost in it. These posts share their ups and downs.
 

When we got the news our hearts almost came to a standstill: "Your vineyard is dead."

It was November 2006 and our vineyard was only months old, planted that spring. And now, 17,000 little vines that we so carefully placed into the earth, all our hard work, Scott's years of planning, all our saving and scrimping, our hopes and dreams (not to mention that summer's gruesome weed hoeing), and all that money, were gone. Just like that.

How? From a few days of unexpected deep freeze at the end of October that same year. Historically speaking, looking at all the weather data — which we did way before even picking our site — it should've only been fall's first frost. But as luck would have it, it was much, much colder. And our vines, due to their youth, were extremely vulnerable. So we called in the "experts" and they gave us the diagnosis: gone.

Holy crap. Our minds raced. Maybe the experts got it wrong? Their assessment couldn't extend across all 15 acres — I mean, with the vineyard on a hillside, there is temperature variation from top to bottom and in between and, no, our vineyard couldn't all be dead, could it?! We were told that, even if the vines appeared normal come spring, when they came out of dormancy to bud and unfurl their leaves, they could suddenly collapse because of damage to their cambiums (that part of the plant that lets nutrients pass through). It was right before the holidays, and we had lost all our cheer. Was this the end, before it even began? It seemed incomprehensible.

So here's what we decided to do: replant it. The whole vineyard. Again.

If that doesn't knock the wind from your sails — and your bank account down to dust — nothing will. But that's what we did. Not wanting to risk all the time we'd lose waiting to see what had survived, replanting seemed the most logical thing to do. We just hoped beyond all measure that Scott's employer would stay afloat, so we could too.

Springtime came, and we waited and watched, and replanted just in case. As it would turn out, our vineyard was not dead as we had been told. Yes, some plants were damaged, some killed, but all-in-all, we came out fine enough; our pockets were pretty much empty, but our resolve was now tipped the other way (and good thing, with what we would face that summer). The big thing was that we were able to take our first harvest as planned in fall 2008, and now we have a tighter-spaced vineyard, which is in many ways its own blessing. There's still some catching up to do with those damaged plants, but otherwise, it's good. We think.

See, back in November 2010, Thanksgiving week, while most of the country was gearing up for turkey with family and in essence celebrating the bounties of the land, out here in the Pacific Northwest, our grape "bounty" was getting hit again. Another deep freeze. Temperatures in our vineyard hit between five and 10 degrees. Temperatures in Washington's Columbia Valley, just across the river from us, were much, much worse: a good five to fifteen below zero. Besides killing a plant, the cold can damage it to the point that it affects its productivity for the following year and then some. We did not get any perceivable trunk or cane damage, and we think there is very little, if any, bud damage. I wonder about Washington's Walla Walla Valley. The first stories coming out from that way were that trunks had literally exploded from the freeze due to the late season ripening and from having pumped water into the vines to keep them chugging along. It's something people out of the "business" will most likely never hear about — you know, rain, freeze, or shine, every year's got to be a bumper crop and the best vintage ever!

So that's where we are as of today. Waiting for budbreak. Could be imminent; temperatures are warming up. It better be soon; every day spent waiting is one less for the growing season — we only have so many days to ripen fruit before it gets cold again, that is, if we even have fruit to ripen at all. As if we don't have enough to currently contend with trying to sell our wine, it seems that no matter what precautions we've taken in the vineyard: where we chose to plant, all Scott's temperature data crunching, the lay of our land, when we prune, how we prune, etc., you just can't prepare for those curve balls Mother Nature throws at you. I shake my head. Scott only says, "Welcome to farming."

Click here and here for more in-depth information about winter injury to a vineyard.