We boarded a train in Paris. An older gentleman with a full baguette hanging haphazardly out of his backpack boarded along with us. Such a classic French scene, I thought giddily. From my window seat, I watched as the buildings and streets of Paris transitioned into the long roadways and rolling hills of the French countryside and became more excited with each track we passed about what was yet to come.
Just before switching trains in Angers, the gentleman with the baguette asked me something in French. “No francais,” I replied with a disappointed smile, hoping that he’d realize that I, too, wished I could converse with him. In perfect English, he asked, “Are you from Angers?” “No, California,” I answered, stepping off the train into the Loire Valley, thinking of how I’d finished my journey from my wine country to this classic one.
My friend’s brother, Pascal, decided to leave the tech life and move to France to start making wine full time. He’s living in Saumur with his family, rents vines around town, and does all of his winemaking in the garage of his home. Each fall he asks friends and family to come help him in the most labor intensive part of harvest. This year, I was finally able to attend.
Pascal hosted us all in his home for dinner on my first night in Saumur. Some of his family had finished a mini-harvest earlier in the day and I was eager to meet everyone else that was here to lend their time. I asked if I could help with anything for dinner and Georges, Pascal’s father, replied “drinking”. Yes, that I can do. I was asked why I choose to join harvest. My answer: “I love wine.” Plain and simple. I love that a good wine will show you everything about itself: where it grew, what soil it was in, what the weather was like that year, how it was harvested and processed... Everything is there in the glass if the wine maker allows it. And if you’re paying attention, you get to experience every detail. Getting to experience harvest opens a window to what happens and all the little decisions before the liquid goes into producing a bottle.
The first tip I was given by Pascal’s father-in-law while picking: keep your opposite hand away from the clippers. Noted.It can be easy to get swept up in the joy of harvest and forget the little things that keep you safe. Luckily, this family was an experienced, caring team who knew this place well. As the light dwindled, a group of us walked down to the river to watch the sun set. The river was calm, steady and alight with the oranges and golds of the sky above. With the view of the town climbing up to chateaux on the top of the hill, I could not think of a more classic European scene.
On picking days, we all arrived at the vineyard just after sunrise. Pascal would give a briefing on what to look for, what makes for a good cluster to pick, and what we should leave behind. We would grab a bucket, clippers, and a stool and select a partner to pick with. You’d be on one side, your partner on the other and you would go down the vine with them from post to post. Once you hit a post, you’d move onto the next unpicked section of the row. Up and down the rows you go, dumping your buckets full of grapes into the crates that are placed in each row to be collected at the end of the day. Part way into the morning, we’d break for croissants and coffee before returning to picking.
When most people think about wine harvest, stomping grapes is often the visual that comes to mind: you know, rolling up your jeans, crushing grapes with your bare feet, singing and laughing with your friends while drinking late into the night. What they don’t tell you is that harvest is 80% cleaning equipment, 15% transporting grapes and heavy tanks of juice, and maybe 5% of the ‘fun stuff.’ But settling into the same routine of picking, processing, cleaning each day makes the job a bit easier and this time with friends feel well earned.
As the days progressed, it started to feel more and more like harvest camp. We spent our pick days making wine and on the off days we explored the surrounding area by riding bikes, enjoying local restaurants, spending time in town and attending the Harvest festival in the chateaux. Our largest pick day brought together Pascal's family from Martinique and extended friends joining from Seattle, Michigan and San Francisco. The energy was different that day — more people and more hands brought more excitement. Our morning debrief was given in both English and French. And as you walked up and down the vines, it was easy to notice how the language difference wasn't a barrier to enjoying this rare and special time together. To me, this was the best day.
In Cypress Magazine Issue No. 02, I’ll share a conversation that I had with Pascal on his journey into wine making. At the end of our conversation he asked what my favorite day was. I told him it was the day his whole family was there — that there was an energy that day that just made it really special. “The wine from that day is the best from last year, it’s tasting excellent!” Pascal said. I replied: “Must be the love coming through.”
