Diary Of A Start-Up Winemaker: Farmin' In A Subaru

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.

Some time ago, it filtered down to us — a wisecrack at our expense, from someone who we refer to as Old Wise All — about how we did our farming in a Subaru.

Back in the day, when we were getting ourselves up and running on the farming end of it, turning bare wheat ground into vineyard, Old Wise All, an established neighboring farmer, went by the farming book when it came to vehicles out in that neck of the woods. He had a 4x4 farming truck, a "going to town" shiny truck, a "stepping out" car, and numerous other farm vehicles: a couple of tractors and trailers, and an enormous combine that he painted himself. So no wonder the snide comment, "And he's out there farmin' in a subaru!" Because that's all we had. A "town and country" dusty, dirty, old Subaru that we used for everything — even farming.

See, when you have a dream and don't have a family farm or deep pockets (or friends with deep pockets), you do what you can. So we farmed in a Subaru, among other things, to make this dream happen. And don't we laugh about it now.

Maybe not always at the time, especially me (Stephanie) when the dust settled thick over the seats and dash and back in "civilization" I had to drive that thing to client meetings all gussied up in my "city clothes." Or when the air conditioner went out and we'd have to keep the windows down, inviting all that dust from the farm to stick to us, and more so if we were sweaty, which most the time we (well, me, Stephanie) were. It wasn't so lovely then. But after we heard Old Wise All's statement, we took it up like some kind of battle cry, yelling out the window while out on the land, "Farmin' in a Subaru!" And some of us (that would be me, Stephanie) learned to be proud of our accomplishments, despite the tears at times.

So if you're ever in the mood to consider a move such as ours, into the wilds of the wine world, and you also do not have deep pockets, or friends with deep pockets, or government subsidies for shiny new vehicles, let us share with you how we've made it this far. (But don't get too excited, it's not like we're handing you golden nuggets or something, for we have yet to make it, and by that we mean really make it.) And even though now we wish we could find some like-minded wine adventurers who'd like to help with funding, we know in our hearts it wouldn't have our handprint on it if we paid someone else to make this thing happen. If we had had the money, we wouldn't have had the laughs or the highs and lows that have made this endeavor something from our heart, sweat, and soul.

1. Get your vision in order. It goes without saying that you need a game plan. Especially if you don't have the bucks to pay someone for their vision (which we heartily advise against; who needs more copycat wines out there?), or the bucks to wait years while you figure it out (FYI: if you make average wine and then slowly develop it into something better people will expect average wine from your label; although curiously, most seem to expect average wine from a first label these days). Have a dream for your wine. Know what you want and don't want it to be. Scott figured this out from his travels in wine that began almost 20 years ago, and it became solidified while in Europe getting tutored by one of France's best wine merchants. It doesn't mean it can't happen sooner, but the story "We fell in love with this one wine on vacation and decided to make our own wine just like it" will only get you so far.
2. Make the decision to farm your own grapes, and DON'T buy grapes in the short-term. Everyone told us, "Buy your grapes while you wait, that's what everyone does." Let us let you in on a secret: the most individual wines are those made by individuals from grapes they themselves farm. Period. Remember the "heart, sweat, and soul" words from above? Enough said.
3. Build your budget. What will it all cost? Scott researched and researched, using online sources like Cornell University's Business Plan for a Small, Premium Winery to get an idea what we were up against. Google "Winery business plan" and you'll find decent sources. Extension offices are also helpful.
4. Save like there's no tomorrow. We saved for years, and Scott's thrifty by nature. But be warned: Once you put your numbers together and see what you need, your life will become extremely pared down. Remember the "town and country" dirty Subaru? Another one of the big things we did was live in a teeny tiny house in an "iffy" neighborhood because (a) That's all our budget would get us for a home, and (b) All our resources and time would soon be spent traveling to and from the vineyard while we laid it out, planted it, did all the endless hand weeding on our gloriously steep hillsides, and on and so on. If you are serious, you will make concessions. It's all part of it.
5. Find the land. One of the biggest drains on your budget is the land. If you have deep pockets and don't feel the need to be a "pioneer" looking for the overlooked gem, then go pick your realtor. If you choose to go our route, and open up what we hope to be a great, undiscovered wine area, don't let realtors try to steer you from your vision, because they will. Stay true to yourself. Learn, learn, learn what you want, and since you already know the kind of wine you want to make (see #1, above, about a vision), then find the land that can provide that. Grapes can grow just about anywhere, great grapes do not. A note about buying land on a (modest) budget: break from the pack, and if you can find land that no one has ever really thought of using for grapes because it was used historically for another crop, and if that place has all the right elements required for your grapes — the soil, the slope and aspect and elevation, the degree growing days, etc. — push hard for that place. It'll save you loads of money, but on the flipside will be the fodder of ridicule for some time, until the wine proves itself, and people get over the idea stuck in their heads that first-time wine from first-time producers is average, or worse.
6. Look for someone to help. Scott may have grown up on a farm, and have done a ton of reading, but he's no Jean Cadoret. We knew we needed expertise in the vineyard, with so much money at stake from the scale of our venture. So we found a vineyard manager, a salt-of-the-earth old cowboy out of Nebraska who ended up in California after the Korean War. In Sonoma growing grapes in the 50s through the late 80s/early 90s. Do we need say more? Leroy was a wealth of knowledge and an out-of-the-box thinker (we appreciate people like Leroy).
7. Set it all up and get 'er going. We had to dig a well, hope for water, bring in 3-phase electricity from miles away, put in a deer fence, lay out the vineyard, put in the end posts and wires, order vines, plant (not necessarily in that order). All kinds of big and little things — that Scott took care of when he wasn't at his day-job that paid the bills — need to line up when you're on a schedule and budget. Oh, the headache when they don't.
8. Keep your fingers crossed for weather, that the day job holds up, that your husband/wife hasn't reached his/her limits (depending on whose dream this is) for whatever. Weather-wise, all your research should have placed you in a safe enough zone, but you know how mother nature is, all unpredictable and all that? Our first year brought with it a deep freeze instead of an anticipated frost. We thought the whole vineyard was dead, and so did the experts. It wasn't, thankfully. The rest of it, the day job and spouse sanity... well, you just have to go day by day at times.
9. Make yourself known. If you get land in a rural area that is not yet farmed for grapes, you will very quickly become known/scorned/laughed at by your neighbors (you "city slickers" out "farmin' in a Subaru"). It's getting your name out to all the others who you hope will buy what you're toiling for, and that is not an easy feat because (a) You're unknown, not a rock star or richy-rich; (b) You have a vineyard in an "unproven" area. (c) You have to break down the barriers of the so-called wine police who believe first-time wine people have no idea what they're doing; (d) You have dared to dream, and have broken from the pack, when others have simply followed.
10. Claim your battle cry, for you will need this in the toughest moments. What you will be up against out in the wilds of the wine world is a force that simply defies logic at times. So pick a good one, dear friend, for it will keep you warm at night, especially when your spouse does not.

Good luck, and may the force be with you. And if you ever hear, "Farmin' in a Subaru*" you know our (modest) budget and us are still kicking.

*We sold the old Subaru after Sam was born; it had nearly 200k miles on it, and needed a ton of work. Scott now farms in a two-door truck we bought off of Craigslist, and since it can't hold all of us (legally) — three plus a dog) — we sometimes now farm in a Jetta, also bought from Craigslist. Or sometimes we're out there in both if them, just depending.