As October’s monstrous wildfires wreaked death and destruction upon California’s fabled Wine Country, I found it difficult to wrap my head around the idea that a place associated with so much happiness was suffering so much heartache.
Many of us in Northern California harbor a special affection for America’s most famous wine-growing region — and it’s an affection that goes well beyond the beverage that writer Robert Louis Stevenson called “bottled poetry.”
Napa and Sonoma, after all, are where cherished memories are made: It’s an amazing gourmet meal with family and friends; a romantic weekend getaway for two; a bicycle ride along oak-lined roads; a bird’s-eye view from a hot air balloon; a hike up Mount St. Helena; a daughter’s fairy-tale wedding… .
And, OK, yes, it’s a glass of sumptuous, well-aged zinfandel.
The point is we feel fiercely connected to — and protective of — this pastoral region that is like no other in the world. So when news accounts delivered ominous images of blackened hills and wineries engulfed in flames, we naturally feared for its future.
But it wasn’t long before we were reminded that the area is populated with stout-hearted people who have stood up to earthquakes and floods and previous fires. People who are as resilient as the gnarly and durable grapevines that blanket the hillsides.
And we were also buoyed by the fact that the Wine Country always has been a place where residents pull together in the face of adversity. Talk to veteran vintners around the area and they’ll regale you with stories about the time their forklift or tractor broke down and a competing vintner stepped in to save the day by loaning them the needed equipment.
As Rob Mondavi Jr., grandson of the late Robert Mondavi, puts it: “This is how we care for each other. It’s a beautiful, open-door tradition that has existed for decades.”
And so, as the region attempts to rebound, the overwhelming sentiment seems to be one of hope. And you tend to believe guys like vintner Doug Shafer when he says of his community, “We took a gut punch, but we’re still standing and we’ll be OK.”
A few days after most of the blazes had been contained, I joined local winemaker Alison Crowe on a drive around parts of Sonoma and Napa counties. Along the way, we came across charred fields and the skeletal remains of structures — images that you might find in a grim, post-apocalyptic movie.
But we also motored down a long stretch of popular Highway 29, and other places, that were completely untouched by fire. And past huge blocks of vineyards that remained, in Crowe’s words, “islands of awesomeness.”
These sights were certainly encouraging for a region that will need visitors now more than ever to boost its economy, as well as its morale. And, hopefully, these images will be conveyed to skittish outsiders who might have gazed in horror at images of devastation and came away thinking that California’s beloved Wine Country had been wiped off the map.
“We’re going to regroup and help those who need it,” Crowe insisted. “Then, we’re going to move forward. It’s what we do.”
And when next spring arrives?
“The welcome mat will be out and it will be beautiful and green again.”
