The whole idea behind “Vintage Highway”—in case you are new to following my travels—is that I pull my vintage, 1972 Airstream Globetrotter trailer on my trips into wine country in search of tasty, new vintages to peddle at Carpe Vino. . .get it? The concept was put to the test in spades on my 15-day trip across the Pacific Northwest, and I have to say I loved it, especially the week I camped at Stoller Vineyards in Dayton, Oregon, smack dab in the pinot sweet spot of the Willamette Valley.
My shtick is to take my spit-polished Airstream and park on the estate of a winery that is already a friend of Carpe Vino; after I drop the trailer and hook up to water and power, I head out into the neighborhood and make new friends, find new wines.
Airstream at Stoller
I was supposed to be at Stoller for just four nights, but because of the luxury of the full bath in the stable I was parked behind, my hosts graciously granted my request to extend my stay by a few days rather than relocate to the second winery I had planned to visit. Actually the stable is quite the structure: on one side are horse stalls; on the other is an indoor, regulation-sized basketball court, with a special sport surface. I spent a half hour missing lay-ups and free throws one morning. . .I still suck.
To get to the winery from the freeway, I followed my GPS and ended up taking a very short ferry ride across what I think was the Willamette River. My truck and trailer took up nearly the whole center of the boat for the four-minute crossing. Since I sensed I was not on a particularly well beaten path, I called the winery and talked to Mike Haverkate, one of Stoller’s first employees, and he offered to meet me in nearby Dayton.
I followed him to the winery, and after taking time to set up, Mike came back and collected me for a tour. We started at the tasting room, and he grabbed a couple of pinot glasses and what turned out to be a bottle of the 2007 Stoller SV Pinot Noir ($40, 92 points Wine Spectator). We jumped into Mike’s truck and struck out for a ride around the estate, 400 acres in all, including nearly 180 acres of vines. I sipped on the pinot while we bounced through the vineyards, and even though we were on private property, I still felt oddly naughty.
Stoller's Front Door
Near the top of what was a turkey ranch is where owners Bill and Cathy Stoller selected as the site for their home. The view is incredible: an unrestricted, 180-degree panorama of the estate, plus spectacular vistas of Mt. Hood and Mt. Jefferson, both snow clad in the distance. The drive leading up to the tasting room/winery complex (one of the greenest structures in Oregon and the first LEED® certified winemaking facility in the United States attaining Gold level certification) is lined on both sides with magnificent, nearly identical trees that someday will arch across the lane.
If Mike lived in Auburn, I know we would be great friends. He is easy-going, no doubt by nature but also likely influenced by the serenity of working on the land. He knows every inch of the estate with an intimacy that comes from planting vines, digging ponds, razing old farm structures and working on the new winery. I’m not sure exactly what Mike’s title is, but if this was 13th century England, he would be the “reeve” of the manor, the pivot person who gets things done and has the trust of everyone. . .at least that’s the way it appeared to me.
Moose Herding Llamas
When you actually live on a winery estate—even for just a week—you get a sense of the rhythms of the place. Early each morning, the first person on the move seemed to be the assistant vineyard manager, setting Moose off into a barking frenzy. For the first few days, I let my pup run in the fenced pasture next to the stable, home to half a dozen lamas, two donkeys and an alpaca. . .that is until the young vineyard manager told me the animals could easily stomp my dog to death.
Business in the Stoller tasting room was regularly brisk, with people enjoying the warm, sunny afternoons sitting in the Adirondack chairs under tall pines overlooking the estate. Oh yeah, most people were sipping pinot. Mike and I tasted through the line-up (loved the Tempranillo, which I did not anticipate seeing in Oregon) and toured the winery building, which was and gravity-flow design. We walked through the Stoller business office, which had one of the grandest views you can imagine, and there were wildlife sculptures everywhere.
Mike & Kelly
People at the winery are incredibly friendly and hospitable. Owner Bill Stoller and his son drove down to my trailer one evening to greet me. . .he departed the next day for a golfing excursion to Scotland. And Mike and his wife, Kelly, invited me to their home in Dayton for dinner. Their house is on the National Registry of Historic Homes and a nice restoration of a 19th century farm home. We enjoyed a nice bottle of Riesling, followed by a pinot. . .and I learned that Kelly is a balloon pilot, taking people for airborne tours of the Willamette Valley.
I stayed on the estate for three more nights following the end of the Oregon Pinot Camp, and I spent the days seeking out new wines in the Willamette Valley and catching up on rest. . .I took a nap just about every afternoon. I departed early on Saturday morning for the Portland airport where I picked up my beloved, Ellen, for three great days in the city.
It is difficult to distill 15 days on the road into a couple of blog posts. . .I wish I could boil down the essence in the way Carpe Vino’s Chef Alexander so deftly and effortless creates a cabernet reduction. The issue is I met so many people, visited so many wineries and tasted so many wines that it is a challenge to keep everything straight. . .to simply maintain context.
During two days of seminars and events, just about every program included a tasting. . .with a purpose. In one tasting of three flights of six wines each, we were asked to separate the older vintages from the newer with the aim of demonstrating age-worthiness of Oregon wine.
I explored two wine regions: first the Willamette Valley in Oregon, mostly the northern AVAs, interrupted by three days in Portland before hugging the Columbia River all the way to Walla Walla, Washington (a place so nice, they named it twice) where I toured for two days. Each night on the road I slept in my vintage Airstream trailer, parked at either wineries or in campgrounds.
The impetus for this odyssey was an invitation to attend the 2011 Oregon Pinot Camp, a three-day, trade-only, intensive program that is one of the toughest tickets in the wine biz, a fact that eluded me until I talked with other attendees.
For the past eleven years, Willamette Valley wineries have partnered to stage this program, which spans three days packed with seminars, tastings and dinners at wineries and venues across the valley. OPC handles all costs except transportation to the valley and lodging. Buses haul campers to various venues, and all meals, wine and materials are provided.
I can only imagine how much it costs to produce this affair—certainly at least $200k, probably a lot more since paid staff works on the event year ‘round. In my opinion, it is a brilliant strategy and far more cost effective than trying to mount a mass-media, consumer-aimed campaign to publicize the virtues of this singular wine making powerhouse. Each year, OPC brings in carefully selected buyers who are educated, wined and dined. . .and converted into evangelists for Oregon wines. On average, 270 wine professionals go home with a truly warm and fuzzy feeling about this very special wine community. Over the life of the program, that means there are close to 3,000 Oregon apostles roaming the world.
The importance of terrior—especially the distinct soils present in Willamette Valley—was driven home by a walk through a trench plowed at the edge of a vineyard block. . .clearly displaying sedimentary layers.
What was so refreshing to me was to observe how closely the wineries worked together to mount this huge endeavor. Though no doubt there is natural competition in the local industry, the winery owners subjugate such instincts and work harmoniously. They actually seem to truly like each other; they get along so well—especially in group presentations—that you’re tempted to doubt the reality of it.
Here’s an example of how unified this community can be: During a welcome from OPC President Janie Brooks Heuck of Brooks Winery, she explained how she got her unconventional start in the industry—a route unlike any of which I had ever heard. Her brother, Jimi, worked as a winemaker for several brands in Willamette before launching his own modest venture, Brooks Winery, in 1998. In 2004, just before the start of crush, the unthinkable happened. Jimi was struck down suddenly by an aneurism and passed away at just 38, leaving an eight-year-old son. His sister, Janie—now managing director of the winery—stepped in to fill the breach but trained as a CPA, she had very limited wine experience.
That’s when the Willamette wine community stepped up. About a dozen winemakers—many who had previously worked with Jimi—offered to handle crush and make the wine. And they did, refusing any form of compensation.
This act of selflessness and generosity provided the cushion for Janie to learn the business and carry on for her brother until his son—who actually owns the winery—is able to join the family business. In fact, many of the people who had helped during this critical time shared the stage with Janie. It was a remarkable moment, and the bond amongst this group of people was purely magnetic.
Read More Post a comment (0)I narrowly missed making the cut to attend the Oregon Pinot Camp, an annual affair hosted by a revolving selection of 50 wineries vetted from the nearly 400 located in the Willamette Valley just below Portland, Oregon. After being invited by a distributor to participate in this trade-only event, my beloved agreed to meet me in Portland after the program ended. When I learned my participation was, for an unexpressed reason in jeopardy, I told my distributor friends “no problem. . .but you’ll need to pony up $300 to reimburse the cost of roundtrip airline tickets.” Remarkably, I soon heard from the organizers with registration details.
After motoring more than 700 miles north on I-5 with my Airstream in tow, I joined a group of 270 wine buyers from 40 states and five countries around the world. This collection of wine professionals came in all stripes: sommelier consultants, buyers for restaurant groups, distributors, buyers for major resorts, Whole Foods wine managers, a dude from a pizza restaurant in Chicago and independent wine shop owners. There may have been others, but as far as I know, I was likely the only person who represented a hybrid wine shop/wine bar/restaurant.
This was an eclectic group, united by a passion for and a career dependent on finding great wine. What impressed me most was there were so many young people in the group. In fact, at 60, I was probably one of the oldest people attending. These kids—many were in their 20s—were both knowledgeable and curious. . .and most seemed responsible in their approach to tasting the hundreds of wines thrust at us during the three days of camp. . .though a party atmosphere enveloped the group every evening.
The concept for Oregon Pinot Camp (OPC) is a stroke of genius, in my opinion. Though winemaking here dates back to the 1970s, Oregon is still widely viewed as an emerging wine producer in an intensely competitive market, especially with its neighbor to the south. So rather than attempt an expensive media campaign, the wineries of Willamette (mostly from the north) created OPC to capture the hearts and minds of those on the front line of wine. . .the retailers and restaurateurs who are the last link in the distribution chains. . .the people who actually touch the customer.
Over the three days of OPC, “campers” are indoctrinated about everything relevant to “cool-climate” wine making, where pinot noir is king. We learned about the history of the region; the pioneers; AVAs; peculiarities of the terrior, especially related to temperature, rainfall and soil types. We were convinced of the ageability of Oregon wines, both red and white; we were lectured on the strategy of promoting Willamette’s whites, especially pinot gris, Riesling and fruit-expressive chardonnay.
And we tasted. . .boy did we taste. Each seminar featured a tasting that was equal parts information exchange and a challenge of some sort: among these six wines, for example, which three are library wines and which are new vintages? Each day’s schedule included three seminars, a lunch (with wine) and dinner. . .with tons of wine, on the table and poured from magnums or three liters by winemakers visiting each table. I’ve never tasted so many pinots at one time in my life. . .and unless I come back for the International Pinot Festival held here each year, I probably never will again.
The first two days of Oregon Pinot Camp—the formal seminar program and tastings—are over, and this morning, for the first time, I have an opportunity to post to my Vintage Highway blog. I’m sitting at the table in my Airstream on the first leg of a two-week trip to wine country in the Pacific Northwest—parked behind a horse stable at Stoller Vineyards between McMinnville and Newburg at the top of the Willamette Valley—and it is raining. My electric heater is pumping warm air on my bare feet, and I couldn’t be cozier. Later this morning, I head over to Domaine Serene for my final session of OPC: out of eight special events, I decided on this one because it includes a helicopter tour of the valley. The potential for getting airborne is doubtful, however, unless this weather and low ceiling improve. I was warned at the closing salmon bake last night, though, that Oregonians are never deterred by rain, so we’ll see.
It took parts of two days and roughly 11 hours of driving to get up here, following I-5 all the way. Leaving Auburn proved to be challenging, however. I stopped by my beloved’s office to pick up a GPS unit, leaving my Airstream parked on the side of Auburn-Folsom Rd. I came back to discover the electronic security fob had broken off of my key ring, so I was unable to start my truck. After a panic call to my son, Drew, he went to my house and picked up my back-up. Thank the good Lord that I lost the damned thing at home rather than somewhere in the Pacific Northwest. First thing when I get home, I’m having the system disabled.
After spending my first night in a really cheesy RV park outside of Ashland, Oregon, I got on the road promptly at 7 a.m., with the goal of reaching my home base of Stoller by 1 p.m. Barely 20 minutes into plying the freeway with Howard Stern as my XM Radio companion, I heard a huge “bang,” the sound of metal smashing into metal. Within minutes, a dummy light flashed on my dashboard, alerting me to a tire problem.
Exiting immediately, I pulled into a “Food 4 Less” parking lot and quickly discovered that my right front tire was punctured. At 7:30 on Saturday morning, I was not optimistic about getting finding help and back on the road. After inquiring at the store, I learned about Bill, the owner of a tiny, independent tire shop built into the side of the discount grocery. He appeared promptly at 8 a.m. clad in a classic, dark blue jump suit, with a cigarette dangling from his lips.
Bill agreed to look at my tire, but I had to first drop the trailer and then drive gingerly to his work bays. After putting air into my Dunlop, he said “No problem. . .give me 20 minutes.” He not only fixed the tire, but without prompting, he also checked the air in the other three. When I asked how much I owed, he said “Fifteen bucks.” I happily handed him a twenty-dollar bill and told him to keep it.
Remarkably, I was back on the freeway in little more than an hour. After calmly taking the flat tire in stride (absolutely no cursing!), I was rewarded with the good fortune of finding Bill. Talk about yin and yang. . .I’m all about karma. . .though I will admit panicking 10 minutes up the road when I couldn’t find my cell phone. Pulling over to the shoulder, I methodically searched the front of the cab, only to find my Android tucked into the pouch of my windbreaker.
I just brought my vintage trailer home on May 1 after it had been in storage since late last November. It’s been sitting outside for the entire five months at a storage facility north of Auburn, so the beautifully polished aluminum shell has lost a bit of its luster. It still looks great, though, and I can’t wait to get back on the road for my first of many trips this season.
Getting ready to head back out on the Vintage Highway requires but one call to Byron’s Mobile RV Service. He comes to you, and his truck is loaded with everything he needs to get the job done. Normally, he works along, but Moose was his helper for the morning in Yankee Jims.
Before going anywhere, though, I called my ace RV mechanic to come and check out my “coach” as he refers to my 1972 Airstream Globe Trotter. Byron, the namesake of Bryon’s Mobile RV Service, makes maintaining my rig a breeze, because he makes house calls. He owns a box truck loaded with service equipment, tools and parts, and he can do just about anything required to keep my Airstream roadworthy.
He had ordered a new set of amber running lights for the trailer and installed them in addition to checking out all of the onboard systems and appliances to make sure everything was operating properly. I’d been concerned that I might have a problem with broken water lines, thanks to not draining the system before outside temps in Auburn sunk below freezing. After the first really hard freeze, I just said “screw it,” but thankfully I was not penalized for my slothfulness with a steep repair bill.
I had my coach plugged in for a few days to charge the onboard battery, unaware that the refrigerator was in the “electric” setting. Much to my delight, Byron let me know that the freezer temperature was 10 degrees, and the refrigerator was reading 30. I knew it worked, but I was surprised at the performance.
Byron captured this stowaway wannabe while doing the annual pre-season service on my Airstream. We’ve had a bumper crop of lizards in Yankee Jims this year, many twice the size of this creepy crawler.
The only bad news is the tire sidewalls are starting to check, and even though they are less than two years old, I may replace them before heading out on my next big adventure. . .touring the Pacific Northwest for two weeks, departing June 23.
First stop is an overnight in Ashland to visit friends and business associates, Doug and Lynne Huecker. Then I continue on to Willamette Valley for “Pinot Camp,” three days of seminars, tastings, decadent meals and a large measure of hanging out with winemakers and other folks in the trade. . .all sponsored by 50 local wineries. It is supposed to be a magnificent event and one of the toughest tickets in the biz.
All told, I’ll be two weeks on the road. I’ll be picking up my beloved, Ellen, at the Portland airport and we’ll tour in Washington. The same day I drop her off for her flight home, I’ll pick up my friend, Jack Arns, who will ride shotgun the rest of the way. Also on the trip will be my two-year old Italian greyhound, Moose, who is finally starting to settle down.
I’m hoping to get one quick, trip in during May. . .perhaps up to the Sugar Pine reservoir for a night or two.
Where ever I go, I’ll keep you posted on my travels, the people and the wine I encounter along the way. It’s going to be an outstanding summer!
About Byron: I learned long ago that it is risky to recommend anyone these days, but I’m happy to pass along contact information for Byron’s Mobile RV Service. Just call 530-346-8355. Byron’s work is flawless, he is thorough, and, significantly, both affordable and responsive.
This blog will follow my monthly trips into wine country across California, Oregon, Washington and, some day, around the country. As the owner of Carpe Vino, a wine shop, wine bar and fine dining restaurant in Auburn, CA, I have direct access to the leading wineries and winemakers in the business. I’ll be traveling the back roads of wine country to find the true gems, small production wines made by truly passionate people. In my nightly blogs on the road, I’ll tell their stories and describe what I’ve seen, learned and tasted.
