There are more grapes here than corn in Kansas, and now is the grape-harvesting season. The vines are turning yellow from the bottom of the vines up to the top. Unlike the delicate grapes that make Pinot Noir, for example, and others that must be picked by hand, these green grapes are more sturdy and are used primarily for Sauvignon Blanc and other whites. They are harvested by great machines equipped with rubber or fiberglass rods that gently shake ripe grapes from their cluster. They operate 24 hours a day, going from vineyard to vineyard for six weeks until the full harvest is completed. The machines, the size of humongous combines and harvesters in the USA, run four machines at a time in tandem clearing vines of their fruit. Four of them cranked up in the vineyard behind our guest house at 3 am this morning. I did not hear the commotion but at the sudden and sustained noise, Stan levitated from the bed.
Like so many places we have seen in New Zealand and Tasmania, is a landscape photographer’s and artist’s dream We are just outside Blenheim in the far northeast section of New Zealand’s South Island. This area is famous for wines, northern fiords, and farms growing cattle, sheep, and grapes. We are not on a farm, but the hosts of our guesthouse have four sheep who love to be petted and fed, seven chickens who like cracked corn and are quite willing to talk to us in their purring, pock-pock, clucking language, and one sweet cat. When we open the window treatments in the morning, we see the fat, wool-laden sheep, four red hens who come running to greet us, two older less friendly black ones, and a green grass lawn spotted with rose bushes, hydrangeas, and lemon trees. Behind that beautiful setting are rows of leafy grape vines with mountains in the background. I’d love to wake up to this scene every day for the rest of my life.
Dreamlike and picturesque pure and clear rivers only about 10 or 15 feet wide, with banks of lush green grass and willows, run swiftly alongside vineyards and farms. Surely they are home to trout but I have seen no fishermen.
Near Blenheim is Picton, a charming little seaport town and yacht basin. It is the gateway to the Marlboro Sounds and fantastic short or multi-day hikes. A ferry between Wellington on the North Island and the South Island departs here and is a popular mode of transportation between the two islands. In just a three-hour voyage and a nominal fee, people take the ferry bringing their car or RV for a weekend or vacation stay. Some simply come by foot on the ferry and rent a car or camper for local transportation. Our Sunday morning here was as pleasant as it can get. We strolled around the waterfront, eyed the yachts, did some good people-watching, and fed the sparrows and gulls.
Switching gears a moment, I wonder . . . why does a mountain compel people to climb or hike it? Knowing that our next few days will be in a car or in a city, we decided to make one last hike. It’s called the Mt.Vernon Overlook. We were advised that it is very steep. It certainly was but we’ve done worse ones! Dang, it was steep but the views were so pretty. We looked down on the city of Blenheim and the shores of the Cook Strait. In the far distance, we could see New Zealand’s North Island. At the top, we drank water and ate our apples. We met a young woman hiking. She said she was taking a less–steep route down the mountain. We followed. Much faster and sure-footed, she left us in a trail of dust! This hike, I must add is wound around a mountain on a working farm. We dodged mounds of rabbit poop, sheep poop, and finally cow patties. Going downhill, we were making good time but as we turned one bend a big black but young steer was snoozing in our path cut out on the mountainside. I was born on a farm and I just spoke to him gently and intended to simply pass him by. As I passed the steer leaped to his feet. He did not butt; he did not kick. I was safe. Ok, now Stan was still in the rear. My cute city boy was not nearly as confident. He talked sweetly to the steer but would not dare pass. Let me be clear; Stan was not going forward. Finally, the steer finally decided to lope down the hill to join other steers hiding under the scrub brush. I thought the moment was cute; oh I do love my brave city boy!!
There is only one additional thing to say about this area. Not only is it known worldwide for its Marlboro wines, but it also has divine cellar doors. A hosted tasting of three wines is usually available for about $7 NZD per person. Keep in mind, one NZD is equal to about $.62 US – our dollar goes a long way here. Reservations are required! Before a wine is tasted, a friendly and amusing sommelier introduces the wine selected by the patron. Ours described its vintage, its characteristics, the subtle flavors, the taste, and the best situation to enjoy it . . . with dinner, during dessert, as an aperitif, in a hot tub, by the fire, on a bench in the evening – ah, heck, as far as Stan and I are concerned, about any time is right.
We listened to her and looked for the citrus, the vanilla, and the oak; we swirled the glass to check the color and sniffed the glass for the nose. We sniffed, sipped, and swished but our best assessment is always simple . . . does it taste good to us? The tastings are very enjoyable and should not be missed but even better than the tastings, are the foods prepared at the restaurants at the cellar doors that host them. Not just staffed with expert sommeliers, these farm-to-table restaurants set in a famous vineyard also compete for the best finely-trained chefs. In the past two days, we have enjoyed flavorful, gourmet dishes expertly prepared and artfully served with ingredients like locally grown and produced meats or wild-caught fish with seasonal vegetables like sautéed tomatoes, roasted purple carrot, leek, capers, garlic, and fennel, served outdoor in a romantic setting in or overlook a lovely vineyard. OH, MY!!!! These two meals were the best we’ve had in months. Note to self: when in wine country, do the tastings! But do not pass up the restaurants! Just sit outside, take your time in the wondrous scenery, and be served fancy plates of food fresh from the farm or the sea — with a glass of vino, of course!
Our guesthouse hosts, Oana, Jonny, and their son, Wesley, visited us last night. We chatted on the terrace until the mosquitos attacked us. We learned about this very pretty property and their personal backgrounds. Jonny is a Kiwi and is an electrician working primarily on-call with local wineries. His parents owned this property before the young ones came home. The parents live nearby but come here still to regularly help with the upkeep of the property’s beautiful flowering plants and gardens.
When something electrical goes wrong in the wine production process, everything stops. Since grapes have a very short shelf-life, downtime cannot be tolerated. When Jonny is called out, he works under pressure for a time-sensitive fix. Oana is a full-time mom to little Wesley. She met Jonny while studying in Perth a few years after her family immigrated to Australia from Romania. “Romania?” we asked. We are going there late this summer! She is sharing with us her favorite towns and things to see in her beloved homeland. This kind of personal information is priceless and always the best travel advice that we never ignore!
Our happy stay in these down-under countries is quickly coming to an end. We are going to miss this beautiful, beautiful place populated with cattle, sheep, and friendly, kind people.
Two days of hard driving lie before us as we return south to Queenstown where we will grab a plane to Sydney. Two days later, the Celebrity Eclipse will take us on an 18-night cruise through the South Pacific to Tahiti and on to Hawaii. This is going to be fun! Why not stay with us on this next, new journey?
