Salt & Old Vines

By Richard W H Bray

A real taste of winemaking - true stories about a wine, the people who make it and the place it's made

Friday, 30 September 2016

Vintage diary part viii

A couple of days ago I needed 800mg of ibuprofen washed down with coffee and a croissant to face the day. I'm not going to fib, lifting 2-3000 kilos of grapes every day hurts after awhile. But in spite of the aches, the fruit is good and the ferments tick along just fine. A few of the barrels are going slow, but then a few of the winemakers are too. Harvest fatigue hasn't hit just yet. The plan at the moment is to get all the fruit in over the next two days. It's our end of harvest festival on Sunday, and while that doesn't always necessarily mean that the fruit is all in, none of the pickers want to go out on Monday with a hangover. So, inspired by fear of hangover, they are busting their asses over the next few days to bring in all the grapes. 

A first for me, I've made a wee tank of Syrah myself. Well, I'm splitting it with one of the stagaires, who wants it for his restaurant in Amsterdam. We've included some whole bunch fruit - about 15% - curious to see how it goes. 

It's darker in the mornings now. The stars still shine bright and the crescent moon hovers over the approaching dawn. I see the plough (still think of it as the dipper) and Orion. It takes two coffees to get started. One at the house and one at the winery. If we're lucky, the head of the picking crew brought croissants.

The mouth of the port in Port Vendres.

Gorgeous Syrah fruit coming in... some of this is in my little tank.

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