Wine Picker for a Day

Wendall -- every other Thursday

I just found a grape in my bra.

 

It’s small, dark blue, and intact. I take it out carefully, since it’s fallen down my shirt from the “Mother Vine,” said to be the oldest grapevine in California, and located at the historic San Gabriel Mission on the outskirts of Los Angeles. It was planted almost 250 years ago, long before anyone had thought about touring Napa Valley or Paso Robles. 

 

The root of the "Mother Vine."

From another angle...

My husband and I spent the morning picking grapes from this astonishing vine with other volunteers assisting the members of LAVA – the LA Vintners Association. The grapes down our clothes, the twigs and stems in our hair, and the purple stains on our fingers were all just part of the fun. 

 

Pruning the Mother Vine!

James in action.

Our fellow volunteers and vintners

Mark Blatty backs his truck in when we run out of ladders.

Sadly, we didn't get to stomp.

 

And it was nice to know we’d made a tiny contribution to the limited edition “Angelica” wine that comes from these grapes–-especially since the Mission receives part of the proceeds. 

 

They only make 300 bottles of the Angelica. This one, just released last week, is from the harvest we helped with in 2021.

 

This was the second time we’d brought stepladders and garden shears to help with the harvest. The first time, in 2021, the Mission itself was being restored after a fire. 

 

You can see the scaffolding on the left and fire damage on the right.

 

Now that’s done, and the church and the grounds are gorgeous and again open to the public. 

 

It’s part of the “California Mission Tour” and also very close to the Huntington Gardens, so if you are seeing the sites of LA, it’s really worth a visit. 

 

Everyone knows about California wines, but few know that the California wine industry actually started in downtown Los Angeles. In fact, the official seal of the City of LA, designed in 1905, includes a bunch of grapes, due to the many vineyards that flourished here in the 19th century, until a blight, then Prohibition, finished most of them off.

So it's only fitting that Downtown LA and Los Angeles County are now the focus of a whole new generation of devoted vintners who are making history all over again. 

 

LAVA was started by the The Angeleno Wine Company, Cavaletti Vineyards, and Byron Blatty Wines—all lovely people and all remarkably supportive of each other. They source wines from growers in greater Los Angeles County and often from vines that have been neglected for years—including one on the grounds of a high school.

 

We’ve been to a series of LAVA tastings and have also had lovely afternoons at the AWC winery on North Spring St. in LA and the Cavaletti tasting room in Moorpark. 

 

The Angeleno Wine Company winery and tasting room in Downtown LA.

The Cavaletti Wines tasting room in Moorpark.

We drank the AWC’s Goldline 2022 for Thanksgiving, and always save a bottle of Byron Blatty’s Evenfall for special  occasions, like finishing books...

 

 

Celebrating getting to the end of Cheap Trills.

 

It’s wonderful to have wine in our house that’s been made by people we actually know and like, the ultimate “winery to table” experience, and it’s another reason we’re lucky to live in the ever-surprising Los Angeles.

Choo Choo

Stanley - Thursday

I love trains.  And have done so ever since my family took a train – steam engine, of course – from Johannesburg to Durban sometime in the early 1950s.

Whenever I can, I take a train in preference to flying or driving.  When I fly, which is often, I have to put up with lines, security, and uncomfortable seats.  When I drive, I have to concentrate on what I am doing.

With a train, security is minimal, the seats are comfortable, there’s time to think, reflect, and read, and there are people to meet and talk to if one wants to.  The only occasional discomfort is a bed too short.

However . . .

Unless you live in Europe, punctuality is often variable.  I use the Empire Builder from Minneapolis to Chicago whenever I can.  The problem?  Freight (and oil) traffic has priority in North Dakota, so the poor train is sometimes 8 hours late arriving in Minneapolis (actually St. Paul).  And even though a European fast train would take no longer than three hours to reach Chicago, the Empire Builder takes eight.

So, it’s important not to have pressing engagements at the other end.

My latest trip was last week, when I took the Shosholoza Meyl train from Cape Town to Johannesburg to work with Michael on our new book.  

It’s an overnight trip of about 1400 kms.  It gets its name from a great African song – Shosholoza – which is often thought of as South Africa’s second anthem.  The song is about long-distance rail trips to work on the mines.

Click here for a terrific rendering of it by the Soweto Gospel Choir.

My train

The train potters along on relatively narrow-gauge tracks, starting in the scenic Western Cape with its spectacular mountains and vineyards, then ambles through the Great Karoo – a vast semi-arid area which is home to South Africa’s sheep farms.  After a stop in Kimberely with its famous hand-dug Big Hole – where diamonds were found 150 years ago – it heads for the Highveld (altitude 1500 to 1600 metres) and ends in Johannesburg.

Train starts in Cape Town 

My train set off at 0905 last Tuesday with an anticipated arrival in Johannesburg at 1100 the following morning.  Perfect!  A sleeping compartment to myself, meals included, and decent wines available at the bar.  A day of pleasure to look forward to.

I admit I was puzzled by the Train Manager’s welcoming speech in the lounge before embarking.  He said that we should regard the 1100 arrival time as a printing error.  One o’clock is the actual time.  Then he went on to describe the service and amenities, and ended with a comment about how the train is sometimes late and could arrive at four.

Little did I know.

The first twelve hours were spectacular, climbing through the first range of mountains to the Worcester area, then through the stunning Hex River Valley with its wall-to-wall vineyards and rugged mountains, then up through a long tunnel to Touws River at the beginning of the Karoo, which is one of my favorite parts of the country.  But then I prefer deserts to forests. 

Western Cape approaching Paarl

Paarl derives from the Dutch for pearl - a granite pearl

Western Cape winter wheat fields

Climbing up through the first mountain range

The Karoo is a vast area of about over 300,000 sq. kms - a third again the size of the UK; eight times the size of Denmark (sans Greenland); and half again the size of Illinois.  It lies about 1000 to 1300 metres above sea level.  At best, it enjoys 25 cms of rain per year, with many parts considerably less.

As in many places in the world, trains have fallen out of favour, so many of the small stations, once used to service the farms, have become derelict.  It was sad watching abandoned houses and station buildings, with difficult-to-read signs.  When I was young, this was a vibrant route.

In the middle of the Karoo

Abandoned

Station sign

Lamp post leaning in De Aar

Karoo scene

Karoo scene

Karoo scene

Karoo scene

Abandoned stone sheep pen

Oasis

Karoo scene

Karoo scene

Karoo scene

Karoo scene

Karoo scene

We enjoyed a delicious five-course dinner at about 1900 and had just settled in the lounge for a medicinal brandy, when the train stopped – in the middle of the Karoo – no towns in sight.  Sheep on the rails, maybe?  Another train coming in the other direction, perhaps?  There was plenty of brandy, so I wasn’t worried.  And I particularly like KWV 10-year Old.

No shortage of liquid 

Good company from England and Germany

After about five hours in the same place, a dozen or so tourists had moved through their stress of going to miss their flights home, to slightly inebriated acceptance, having rebooked for the following day.

It was late when we all went to our cabins to sleep.

When we awoke, we were still in the same place, now twelve hours late.  I didn’t mind.  Good company, good food and wine.  And a good book.  A pleasure.

The view from where we stopped

Taking a break from the train

Eventually, after nineteen hours of being motionless, the train started up.  Apparently, the overhead power line for the electric engine had broken and was difficult to repair.  Nineteen hours difficult!

Anyway, to cut a long story short, we arrived in Johannesburg at eight o’clock on Thursday morning instead of eleven o’clock on Wednesday.  Twenty-one hours late.

Green grass approaching Johannesburg

This one never made it!

Typical Johannesburg mine dump - from mine tailings

Approaching Johannesburg station

I do have to compliment the train’s staff.  Somehow, they managed to add two extra meals, and maintain their humour in the face of some increasingly restless passengers.  Overall, the passengers were also fine once the uncertainty of knowing whether they would make their original flights disappeared.  Then everyone sat down to enjoy the experience.

I have been asked numerous times whether I would go on the Shosholoza Meyl again.  Absolutely, I would.  But I would ensure I had no pressing appointments at the other end.