I remember when it all started, when the wine bug bit that is. I’d open the John Platter guide and page through the wonderful banter on my favourite producers. It makes wonderful reading. The latest news; which wines were out; who was the lucky winemaker/viticulturalist involved.
This was always a moment of slight envy, where I’d imagine the lucky one strolling through his vineyard on a cool crisp morning, kneeling down on the earth to inspect his cherished vines. Critically searching for any imbalance or stress and sampling a few fresh grapes along the way. In the cellar, the excitement of the harvest. He physically at one with the wine – punching the cap, tasting, carefully monitoring the fermentation to make sure all was well. Caring for the liquid as if it were an only child. What a glorious, romantic life winemaking is, I would think!
Those romantic notions were what got me motivated to study winemaking and travel the world to learn as much as possible so that I could come home and make the best possible wine here in the Swartland. I am extremely fortunate to be doing what I love, but my first month in charge of a winery in Tulbagh came as quite a shock to me. I remember making note of what happened in a typical day:
“Up early to start at six. Take the vineyard team to block 5 to open the canopy, where the syrah is a bit vigorous after the late rain. Show them what’s needed. It’d be great to work with the guys, but first there are a few pressing things to do.
One of the girls in the vineyard team, Kaylene, has a one-year-old baby who’s not well. Drive her in to the local clinic nice and early to be seen. Pick up cement, grease, paint and wood for work in the cellar. Fetch motorbike from garage. Race back to the cellar to get supplies to builders as they arrive at 8. Make sure the vineyard team is not taking off too many shoots. To the office. Open post – bills and more bills. It’s said that winemaking is 90% cleaning up during harvest. It’s 95% admin the rest of the year. Unscheduled interruption from barrel agent (the umpteenth to “pop” by in the past six weeks, well knowing we don’t want their barrels). Baboons in vineyard again. Jump on motorbike to chase them away. Effluent pipe blocked with cement from builders. Dig it open to find and remove blockage. Work for rest of morning on next year’s budget, a tight affair with the rand having strengthened so much. Quick lunch, cheese on toast. Now it’s scorching. And getting dry. Trudge through the vineyard. The odd sign of stress. Should I irrigate? It’s still so early in the season. Fax arrives from Vinlab. Malolactic fermentation has still not finished on seven worrisome barrels. Nothing I do seems to get them going. Neighbour’s cattle have broken the fence again. Chase them out, repair fence. Phone neighbour for a “friendly chat”. Make note to buy strong cattle prod. 5 o’clock arrives. Everybody leaves. What happened to the day?
There’s so much I still wanted to do, but I look on the bright side. At least there’s some quiet time to spend tasting the wine. I happily make my way to the cellar, pick up my wine thief and a glass, slide open the barrel room door, only to remember poor Kaylene waiting in town for a lift home from the clinic. Jump into bakkie, race back to town …
Arrive home drained. Where’s my John Platter guide? In need of inspiration, I open the book and effortlessly slip back into the romance.”
Things haven’t changed. I still spend my days running, but the great thing about winemaking is that no two days are the same, and it’s constantly stimulating and challenging.
Cheers!
Tags: Chris Mullineux, Mullineux Family Wines, Swartland, Wine