Ash.

As the idiom goes, "there's no smoke without fire."  There is also no fire without ash - a lot of it - and everything in Napa is covered in ash.

Venturing into Vinoland's Cabernet sauvignon grapes today to perform a sugar sample (22.8 °Brix, they're on a good trajectory), I couldn't help but notice how much ash is on the fruit.  This fiery-growing season, it seems grape-growers have more to worry about than just smoke taint.  I don't recall ash being this much of an issue in the calamitous fires of 2017.  Always something new in farming.  If it isn't an insidious insect infestation, it's a natural disaster. 

The air quality the past three days has been the clearest and most smoke free since the 18th of August, thank goodness.  However, the wind is supposed to shift and bring the smoke back into the Bay Area on Saturday.  A reminder that a lot of California is still on fire.

As with the Pinot grigo, I will have Vinomaker go through the vineyard with a leaf blower, prior to harvest, and try to dislodge some of the ash on the berries.  Not a vineyard operation I ever could have imagined needing to be performed, but clean fruit is the goal.

Kindling.

"The instruction we find in books is like fire.  We fetch it from our neighbours, kindle it at home, communicate it to others, and it becomes the property of all."  Voltaire.
This grainy photograph is from happier times...and apparently, the topic that day was head-training/cane pruning.  Dr. Stephen Krebs (centre back), my viticulture professor at Napa Valley College, unfortunately lost his home in the LNU Lightning Complex Fire.  It was Dr. Krebs who was responsible for sparking my love of all things viticultural.  And writing about my passion on Vinsanity.  A good fire, as opposed to the bad stuff.
At his home on Pleasants Valley Road  in rural Vacaville, Dr. Krebs, a more than keen gardener, had a huge vegetable garden.  I always loved it when he'd go off-topic in class and instead discuss vegetable gardening.  I remember one particular time when he brought in paper bags filled with cloves of assorted garlic varieties to share with the class.  Sadly, his home was in one of the areas hit hardest by the wildfires ignited by dry thunderstorms on the 16th of August.  I cannot imagine losing everything.  Vinomaker and I came close in the firestorm of October 2017, but we were mercifully spared.
I am thankful that Dr. Krebs and his wife escaped unharmed, but it saddens me to think of all that he lost.  He had a rather extensive book collection, a lot of them rare and out of print.  He was always willing to let his students use his library for reference purposes, but it was not a lending library - the books had to stay put.  I can't blame him, I wouldn't have let some of those titles out of my safe keeping either.
The books may be gone, but not before Dr. Krebs was able to communicate their contents to a multitude of wine industry peeps the length and breadth of Napa Valley.  And probably beyond.

Napa's on fire...

...but not in a good way.
When I sprung the chickens at 6.15 a.m. this morning, I noticed that the coop was covered in a layer of very fine white ash.  A couple of forest fires had started yesterday (sparked by the intense lightning storms of Sunday and Monday) and the air was noticeably smoky when Vinodog 2 and I went on our morning promenade.  The smoke cleared as the day progressed, but by the time our late afternoon perambulation came around the fire was apparently intensifying.
The cloud of smoke in the photograph was much more dramatic when I first began my walk: it looked like a mushroom cloud (known as a flammagenitus, or pyro cumulus).  Unfortunately, I didn't have my camera with me and by the time I had fetched it 20 minutes had elapsed.  Still terrifyingly impressive, though.
By 6 p.m. the Hennessey Fire, burning north of Vinoland, was at 2700 acres - with no containment.  It is one of three fires now burning on the east side of Napa Valley, on the edge of the Vaca Mountains, mostly in rural, hard to access areas.  However, many homeowners, including a friend, are facing mandatory evacuations.  Where does one evacuate to in the age of Covid?  Such a different situation from what folks dealt with during the 2017 fires.  I hope the brave firefighters of Cal Fire get control of these fires sooner rather than later.  Godspeed.

Golden hour.

I arrived back in California yesterday afternoon descending into SFO through a thick, ugly, brown pall of smoke courtesy of the Camp Fire (Paradise, CA).  Sigh, California is afire again, so nothing really changed in the fortnight that I was away.  Oh, hang on a minute, Vinoland's Cabernet Sauvignon was harvested in my absence, October 27th to be exact, I was sad to miss that.  And most of the leaves have fallen from the white grape varieties: the colour of the now chlorophyll-free leaves accentuated by the perpetual golden hour-like light quality that goes hand in hand with an out of control conflagration.  As a consequence, things do look a little different out in the vineyard.
I had an interesting wine on my flight back to America (on United Airlines - Swiss Airlines, inexplicably, cancelled my flight to Zurich with extremely short notice and I was rerouted through Heathrow.  Hmmph, so much for Swiss efficiency).  The wine, a 2017 Mac Andrews, The Haven Chardonnay-Viognier,  NSW Australia, was quite lovely (for an in-flight wine).  Crisp, appley, honeysuckle loveliness, in fact.  I can't find any information on this wine online, so I can only assume that it is exclusively bottled for United.  What I, in my little geeky way, found interesting about this wine was that it came in a full 750 ml plastic bottle (with screw cap).  Of course, I am very familiar with the small plastic bottles that airline-wine routinely comes in (187 ml), but I'd never seen wine, on a flight, being poured from a plastic 750 ml (in first class, they have glass).  So, I asked the male flight attendant if I could possibly have an empty bottle to take with me.  "No," was the prompt reply, "We recycle them."  Even when I promised I'd make sure it was recycled in a responsible manner I was still denied.  Alrighty then!

One year later.

This morning, as the sun rose from behind Napa's eastern hills, I was greeted with the same charred vista that has greeted me for the past 364 days.  A year after the fires that ravaged Wine Country, what was once a solid ridge line of trees and vegetation across from Vinoland is still a blackened, skeletal-shadow of the verdant skyline it once was.  The ridge will eventually green-up again, it is just going to take a while.   

Smoke gets in your eyes.

The wonderful view that usually greets me and Vinodog 2 when we reach the top of the hill behind Vinoland on our daily walk doesn't exist right now.  Well, the view is there, but at present it isn't visible due to the amount of smoke that is in the air.  My Mayacamas Mountains vista is in hiding, I can barely see it at all.   Also the overall light quality is very odd making everything yellow and muted.  However, I'm thinking a photographer would probably see some benefit to the perpetual golden hour the Napa Valley is experiencing.
There are two major wildfires burning in Northern California right now.  The Mendocino Complex Fire is now the largest wildfire in California history (recorded history, that is), it has currently burned over 300,000 acres and is still not contained.  The Carr Fire in Shasta County, at present the 6th largest fire in California history, at approximately 180,000 is a mere tiddler in comparison.  And all the resulting smoke is drifting south to wine country.
I'm not really worried about smoke taint in the grapevines, but the possible reduction in light- and temperature-dependent photosynthesis is a little bit of a concern.  When it is this smoky, and it has been for the past 10 days, or more, the chlorophyll in the vines cannot absorb enough sunlight to synthesis the sun's energy into carbohydrates.  Bit of a problem when Vinomaker needs those carbohydrates (think sugar) to synthesise into alcohol.  It has already been a cool growing season, so lack of good quality sunlight now is an ongoing concern of mine.
Of course, my first thought is for the safety of anyone, or any animal, in the path of the many conflagrations burning around the entire state.  Godspeed firefighters.

Fire season.

California is already well into fire season.  In reality, the time of the year that isn't considered fire season, here in tinderbox dry California, is lamentably short.
Yesterday afternoon, in what were eerily familiar conditions, the sun became obscured by smoke, the light quality changed dramatically, the temperature dropped 6°F in a matter of minutes and ash began to fall like snow.  Vinomaker and I sat for a little while, just watching as a thick grey smoke plume headed our way from the northeast, until the ash became too heavy to remain outside.  The fire, now known as the County Fire, began in Yolo County and grew overnight from 8,000 to 16,000 acres.
When I woke up this morning everything was covered in ash (very messy).  I worked for a bit in the Syrah vines this afternoon, but each time I reached for a shoot above my head I was showered with huge flakes of ash.  Not very pleasant.  A strong wind would rid the grapevines of their ashy-coating, but, alas, strong winds are the last thing firefighters need right now.
The fire, as I type, has now burned 32,500 acres and is 0% contained, and it has now spread to Napa County.  Godspeed to the first responders.

There can be smoke without fire.

This photograph was taken on the 16th of October, the day I returned to work at TWWIAGE (after missing a week due to the wildfires that raged through my neighbourhood and the greater Napa Valley).  Whilst my home was by this time safe, the fires continued to burn around the valley (like here on the western Oakville hills, above the Robert Mondavi Winery), the air was still thick with smoke and people's nerves were worn a little thin.  Thankfully, the calamitous fires are now history: albeit recent history.
I've been busy since I arrived home, family stuff, but last night I was able to catch up on some wine industry news reading, e.g., Karen MacNeil's Winespeed newsletter.  I generally like Winespeed, it contains short, snappy wine-factoids. (If I want to know more about a particular wine varietal, region or industry news I can look further into the topic myself.)  In the October 27th issue, in a piece subtitled 'From the Oh No Files - Smoke Blunder', Ms. MacNeil takes umbrage at San Francisco restaurateur Michael Mina on the opening of his new restaurant, International Smoke.  Editorialising that the opening of the grill is ill-timed, MacNeil deftly succeeds in making smoke a trigger word.  Really?  How long will this imposed moratorium on uttering the word smoke last?  Are the words fire, flame, burnt or singed included?  Is there a geographical boundary, i.e., if Mina was opening his restaurant in San Jose, some 80-plus miles farther to the south, would it be permissible for him to use smoke in the naming of his eatery?  MacNeil's premise is specious and her 'Oh No Files' item is merely a silly, column inch filling, fluff piece.  Yes, silly, except for the fact that it is rather irresponsible in its criticism of Chef Mina and the naming of his new enterprise.  I think some of the wildfire smoke must have addled Ms. MacNeil's cranium.

Please rain on my parade.

I normally dislike rain, I may have mentioned that once or twice in the past.  Actually, I'm positive that I have.  Vinodog 2 and I spend a lot of our time in the great outdoors, which means that when water does fall from the sky it unfailingly curtails our al fresco activities.  Not usually a pleasant scenario, as VinoCur does not like to have a wet tail and I don't like to have curly hair.  However, I have to admit that the rain that was forecast for last night, and appeared right on schedule, was just what the length and breadth of the scorched Napa Valley was thirsty for.  Wine Country was desperately in need of some moisture - other than that which came out of a fire hose, or a helicopter equipped with a Bambi bucket.  I was more than willing to sacrifice my desire for straight hair.
There are charred leaves all over Vinoland; on the vineyard floor, on the crush pad, on the driveway, on the hill, on the deck and on the doormat.  The intensity of the fire, the ferocity of the wind and the accumulation of combustible vegetation meant that embers, ash and the aforementioned charred leaves were deposited far and wide.  (Though not far enough away, the fire raged less than a half mile from my doorstep.)  My and V2's morning parade, past our neighbours' homes that were mercifully spared the ire of Mother Nature, was crisp and fresh.  Sadly the now moistened, blackened hills look gloomily blacker.  Sigh.

The show must go on.

Wildfires be damned!  Vinoland's Cabernet Sauvignon (CS) needed to be harvested, but Mother Nature seemed to have other ideas.  Vinomaker and I had planned to harvest our CS this past Friday, the 13th, problem was most of our usual picking crew were unavailable due to voluntary or mandatory evacuations.
Grateful that Vinomaker and I had kept an eye on the neighbourhood in their abscence, many of our neighbours kindly offered to help us harvest (we couldn't have managed it by ourselves).  Our pleasant group of pickers showed up early and prepared to get the crop off the vines.  I had spent the day before pulling leaves, so the fruit was exposed and the pick went smoothly.  Although it was still very smoky nobody complained.
This evening, our cheery little band of harvesters reconvened on Vinoland's deck for a celebratory repast of pizza, beer and, of course, wine.  Happy end of harvest 2017.  Finally!

Fire and water.

My grandmother was oft heard quoting Aesop, "...fire and water, they are good servants but bad masters."  Even as a small child I got the gist of what she was saying.  However, growing up in Liverpool, I didn't think I was in imminent danger of burning up, or being washed away.  Fire is mostly great; a cozy wood burning stove, a candlelit dinner, toasting s'mores round a fire-pit.  Better still, chestnuts.  Good servant stuff.  What could possibly go wrong?  Well, now I live in tinderbox dry California and wildfires happen.  The bad master stuff.
One week ago, I was going about life in a normal manner, e.g., picking Cabernet franc.  Exactly one week later things are not quite normal.  In fact, I'd go as far as to say they are abnormal.  I went to bed last Sunday night ignorant to the fact that there was a wildfire raging just a few miles from here.  Without going into detail, except to say that what ensued was quite dramatic, at 3.45 a.m Monday morning Vinomaker and I had to quickly evacuate Vinoland.  I grabbed Vinodog 2, my passport, my green card, my wedding ring, my rosary beads (from the Vatican) and my purse - and I was gone! We returned about 7 hours later.  Everything just as we'd left it, but now covered in a grey and black layer of ash.
Six days later, we still have no power, but thank God we have everything else.  In an area just about 3 miles from Vinoland, an entire street is gone.  I don't have that voyeur-bone in my body that some folks have.  People suffering horrible loses are not there for my entertainment.  I would want to grieve the loss of a home, a pet, or all of my possessions in private.  Yes, I'm curious, but this cat doesn't have nine lives.  I'll survive without witnessing, first hand, the misery of others.
Speaking with neighbours who have been in this area since the early 60s, I have learned that wildfires ravage this area about once every 20 years.  One neighbour recalled for me the calamitous fire of 1964, the year he moved to Coombsville.  And an even more destructive conflagration in 1981.  So, it seems, we were overdue.  Everything in life is cyclical and that includes wildfires.  It's just that now there are more people and homes in the way of Mother Nature (when she takes it upon herself to do a little housekeeping).  And vineyards.
Last winters heavy rains only exacerbated the intensity of these wildfires, as there is plenty of fuel to keep them stoked.  The charred hillside, from where I took this photograph, is now mostly clear of brush and shrubs, a lot of the larger trees are blackened but still standing.  Just like the neighbourhood itself: a little singed, but mostly unscathed.  I wish I could say the same for all Napans.  Fuel for thought.

Lake County Goats.

More goats.  Not the fat and happy, valley-floor-living Napa goats I photographed this past April. No, these poor goats had the misfortune to find themselves in the midst of one of the most destructive wildfires in the history of California. I copied this photograph from the Facebook page of one of my co-workers, the Balancing Queen (BQ), who unfortunately lost her home and all of her possessions, and most likely her cats, in the Valley Fire which is currently burning to the north of here in Lake County. And tragically, the BQ is not alone in her predicament, at last count some 600 homes have been destroyed.
Wineries and vineyards have been lost.  Many vineyards, although not directly affected by the fire, remain unpicked as access to them is restricted.  Regretfully, wildfires, earthquakes and drought are all apart of life in California. The goats survived.
Photo credit: JoAnn Saccato