I am a huge fan of Airstream trailers and I love the new ones, but the entry barrier is a bit high for me. So I have focused on vintage Airstreams. . .the silver bullets constructed of aviation-grade aluminum. In my view, a polished, gleaming Airstream is the quintessential, timeless, classic, all-American icon of the highway.

My first Airstream was a 1972 Globe Trotter (see early photos in nav bar) that I owned for more than two years, that is the basis for this blog, “Vintage Highway,” though I haven’t done any posts since my trip to Oregon and Washington last summer. My blog posts are reports on my trips into wine country where I stay at wineries and spend time tasting and buying,

Shortly after I parked my rig after returning home from a 2,300-mile sojourn, I responded to a knock at my front door. A passerby virtually begged to purchase my Airstream, and after first rebuffing him, I ultimately sold it for a price I could not refuse.

Late last year when I had the opportunity to purchase another Airstream, this one a 1972 International in pristine condition, I wrote the check. . .even though this one is too big for what I need. At 27 feet, my Honda Ridgeline just doesn’t have the juice to pull it in this part of the world.

I’m offering this unit for sale, and interior and exterior photos are posted here. With the exception of the air conditioning, all appliances and systems are in perfect working order. This spacious Airstream sleeps four and it has new floors, custom leather couch cushions and some window treatments.

You won’t find a nicer rig that is ready to roll than this one, priced at $15,000. . .a fraction of the cost of a new Airstream, and far less than the cost of a new travel trailer of its size. If you would like to view this Airstream, contact me to make an appointment. –gary

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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 13^th 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 19^th 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.

Pinot Camp is Much More than Pinot

While attendees to OPC enjoyed an ocean of fine pinot noir and wonderful evening meals, the core of the experience was to get up to speed on Willamette Valley, its history, terrior, wines and all of the tangible factors that make it unique. The organizers skillfully hit home with these core takeaways:

Oregon wines are great candidates for aging. While upwards of 80% of all wine purchased in the U.S. is consumed within 48 hours, a key message at OPC is that Oregon wines only improve with age—both pinots and a range of whites. To make this point, one of the main seminars presented a series of tastings of six-wine groupings that contrasted new vintages against older. The results were obvious for pinot, though I was not as convinced about white wines. . .especially a 1987 pinot gris that was likely over the hill 15 years ago. We were also served older vintages each night at our evening galas, poured from magnums and three-liter bottles. There was so much wine available it was staggering. . .and saddening on one level: I wish I could have had the time to savor these wines individually and leisurely.

Oregon is much more than pinot noir. The cool climate of Willamette (rhymes with “Damn It”) is basically hospitable to only pinot noir cultivation among reds (though other varietals are being introduced), but it is also welcoming to a number of white varietals, which comprise 27% of all grapes grown in the state. Most notable are pinot gris (translates to “gray”), Riesling and chardonnay (which account for 86% of all white grapes grown). As one seminar presenter noted, the region’s cool climate lends itself to producing food-friendly wines that have great balance, optimum acidity and low ph that all combine to help render the wines age worthy.

What’s the hot ticket in Oregon whites? One presenter said, “In my opinion, Riesling is the pinot noir of white wines.” No doubt he is absolutely correct.

The significance of soil. If you toil long enough as a wine retailer, rants about terrior and the impact of place on winemaking are enough to make your head spin like Linda Blair’s in the Exorcist. But oddly enough, I really dug a seminar titled “Soil into Wine” (pun intended). That’s because we were bussed out to the Penner-Ash Winery where campers were invited to walk through two huge trenches cut on the edges of two vineyard blocks to observe the different types of soil. . .which render huge differences in how pinot noir tastes. We were regaled with the origins of Willamette Valley soil types: marine sediments, basalts, Ice Age Loess and Missoula Flood deposits. By walking through the trenches, the various soil layers told the story. It was a fascinating and revealing field trip, further developed through graphics in a comprehensive manual we were given. In a tasting in the winery, the differences of soil type in wines were obvious and consistent across different brands. Absolutely revealing and amazing.

Uncovering the multiple personalities of pinot. At the end of the day, when you distill Willamette Valley to its very core, you get pinot noir every time. Unlike California where very virtually every varietal flourishes, pinot is it in Willamette, which begs the question: Is there an Oregonian style of pinot noir? The answer for me, was both yes and no. Yes, there is a balance, elegance and complexity that runs true to most all Oregon pinot noir, but the end product varies dramatically based on so many factors associated with terrior, vintage and winemaking style. In one tasting of six wines, we were asked to match three vintages from three different winemakers to see which was more compelling. . .vintage or winemaker? The results were not conclusive. . .leading us to be convinced of what we all know: when you let the grapes do the talking, every vintage is going to be different.

On the final day of OPC, campers could choose from eight outings offered, including a hot air balloon ride, white water rafting or spa day. It was a no-brainer for me. . .I went with a helicopter tour of the Willamette Valley in this MD500 (the Ferrari of helicopters).

One of the most important OPC takeaways for me was the winemakers of Willamette Valley are an affable, articulate and smart group of people. Virtually everyone who participated during a seminar or as part of a panel was well spoken and knowledgeable. . .leading me to believe they could be successful in any endeavor, though their passion for winemaking was obviously inflexible.

The total experience was a joy and one that I will remember for a long time, especially the last day at Domaine Serene, where after a tour and tasting (along with representatives from King Estate), we sat down to a beautiful lunch as a prelude to a helicopter tour of the valley.

There was a low ceiling and rain threatened but we went up in chopper with a 23-year-old pilot at the controls. What a blast!

My final OPC day started with a tour and tasting at Domaine Serene, with winemakers from the host and King Estate. The event wrapped with a fabulous lunch in the tasting room before campers took turns to fly above the valley. This a view of the Domaine Serene complex.

I have but one suggestion for OPC organizers: My main purpose in attending—beyond learning more about the region and its wines—was to actually discover new wines from wineries unknown to us at Carpe Vino. I wanted to return home with a list of new wines to bring into the shop. Unfortunately, that simply did not happen. With all of the wines we tasted, there was very limited information provided about pricing, case production and distribution. Also, because OPC was trying to demonstrate the age worthiness of Oregon wines, many of the wines we tasted were library wines and not available for purchase. OPC is devoid of sales messaging—which is wonderful—but for those campers who do wish to acquire wines, a baseline of solid information should be available during each session. The good news is I spent three additional days int he Valley and found tons of good stuff that we’ll be bringing into the shop.

I heard that campers have to wait four years before requesting to participate in OPC again. I’ve put OPC 2015 in my tickler file because I’d love to do it again someday.

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.

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.