Disasters in the past, and mere problems
in the present 7 March 2008

The Durbanville harvest is late, there's rot about – but Martin Moore's maiden vintage
at this cellar was much more problematic

I have to admit that our 10th vintage did not kick off as fast or as fluently as we had hoped. We started two weeks later than usual and up to the time of writing this at the end of February, we had received about 30% of the grapes normally in by this time of year.

What a disastrous run-up to a vintage!
But then, things are still endlessly better compared to the nightmare that preceded our first vintage. If ever there was the perfect illustration of that famous line of Robert Burns about "the best laid schemes o' mice an' men gang aft a-gley" that was it.

The schedule for the construction of the cellar was tight to start with. Then the delays started. The first and cause of so much of what followed, was the delay in getting approval from the authorities for the project to proceed. Then they wanted more details about this, then about that. When finally approval was given, it was subject to a number of conditions, one of them stipulating that the cellar, perched on the side of the Tygerberg overlooking the city, had to be invisible from the Cape Town CBD! The architects solved that one by erecting a massive earth berm that screens off the cellar without inhibiting the view visitors have of the city. (It's true, it actually works! Come and have a look if you don't believe me!)

Despite the builders being hopelessly behind schedule, there was nothing we could do to postpone the starting date. Supplier contracts had been signed and grapes, like seemingly everything else, wait for no man.

And then, just as we entered the final straight and thought we were winning, things started to go horribly wrong. First, the auger, that worm-like conveyor tube that moves the skins and stalks away from the presses, had been made hopelessly too long so that it clogged up and the skins slid back into the presses. Then, a day or two after our shiny new tanks had been installed, the foundations supporting them started caving in. Red ants had nothing on those contractors. Lesson: don't try and get away with less if you are in a hurry.

Crumpled like an old paper bag
And then, to cap it all, some idiot opened the tap of a tank filled with water without releasing the valve to let air into the vacuum, and that big, beautiful stainless-steel tank crumpled in on itself like a paper bag. And of course that tank had to be the one right at the spot where the opening ceremony was to be held a few days later. I don't think anywhere in the wine industry has a tank that size ever been replaced that quickly.

When the first load of grapes arrived at the presses, the building was not even half completed. The section today housing the maturation cellar, restaurant and tasting area still existed only on the architects' plans. So, while we were pressing at the back, the contractors were building at the front, and there arrived two loads of concrete for every one of grapes. Despite everything we still processed
3 126 tons of grapes that first vintage and made some memorable wines.

Don't talk to me about disasters
So, don't talk to me about disasters. I know disasters, and what we have now with the late ripening of grapes and the unsettled weather does not even cause a ripple in my composure. Fortunately there are 29 days in February and my advice to the rest of the team was to get enough sleep over the past weekend as my planning board was filling up with notes about 40 vineyard blocks that would be ready for picking in the new week. (I then promptly ignored my own advice by watching, morning, noon and night, Super 14 and Six Nations rugby games, switching channels in between to see how the Proteas were doing in the first cricket test against Bangladesh. I have been paying the price ever since.)

... Or the weather That wayward wind but nevertheless close ally, the Southeaster, has kept the farmers busy repairing broken trellis wires and pushing shoots back on to trellises where they belong. But at times it seems almost as futile as trying to brush your hair in a tornado.

For our weather predictions this time of year we rely quite heavily on a group of Dutch weathermen who analyse the data relayed to Europe from a number of small weather stations located in our vineyards. And, of course, TV news services, newspapers, Cape Town International Airport and anybody else who has an opinion on the weather, whether based on itchy battle scars or other deformities.

The Dutch guys got one thing right, though, and that was their long-term prediction that February was going to be cool and humid. If those two siblings of decay, Noble Rot and his ugly brother, Sour Rot, could describe the perfect conditions in which to flourish, they couldn't have done better than what we had in February. But don't fret yet... All our grapes are handpicked and, should these rotters raise their unwelcome heads in any of our vineyards, every single affected berry will be snipped out. So what goes into the bottle will be of the same impeccable quality.

We had about 12 mm of rain a short while ago and became deeply worried about what it could do to the grapes. But spare a moment for my friends from the rougher side of the Winelands where they were "blessed" with 49 mm. In their irrepressible manner they tell me they are now considering vinegar production. Fortunately those guys can take it. I was told the story that recently a few of them gathered barefoot around a braai. The meat was taking its time getting cooked and so were they (vinegar or not). While they were sipping and chatting the conversation went something like this:
"Pa, Pa!!" "Quiet, Boet, can't you see we're braaing?"
"But Pa, you're standing on a live coal!"
Silence. Then: "Which foot?"

• This contribution is  taken, with permision, from the Durbanville Hills February newsletter. It appears in full on the Durbanville Hills website.