EXTREME VINEYARDS

The huge, the tiny, the whacked

Do they make wine in China? How about Tibet or Alaska or Timbuktu? Don’t bother researching; the answer is invariably yes. Despite traffic, blizzards and plenty of good wine already for sale, a mindless atavism propels man to plant vines. Right after food and shelter, it seems, comes the irresistible urge to ferment.   

            No place is too inhospitable. Six thousand, four hundred feet up in the Rockies, Terror Creek Vineyards battle killer freezes, hundred-degree roasts and hoards of hungry bears, mountain lions, elk, deer, lynx, and raccoons, while managing to conjure up surprisingly Alsatian riesling and gewürztraminer. Higher still, at 7,200 feet in the Himalayas, Buddha-like patience guides the winemakers at Thimpu in the kingdom of Bhutan. But the altitude prize goes to Argentina’s Bodega Colomé. Their vineyards, the highest commercial ones in the world, sit at 9,892 feet.

            Latitude provides other challenges. Just west of Stockholm and south of the Artic Circle, Sweden’s Blaxsta Vineyards make world-class wine on the 59th parallel. It’s cold and rainy, but those long summer days never end. Owner Goran Amnegard makes the most of the midnight sun by planting vines far apart and pruning them into low umbrellas. His 2003 vidal ice wine nabbed the silver medal at a recent Bordeaux competition.

            Still, he’s topped by Norway’s Hallingstad Vineyard, at 60º north. The nearby Oslofjord tempers cruel winter enough to grow pinot noir, chardonnay and riesling. Hallingstad’s labels showcase the paintings of Edvard Munch, including that well-known portrait of an extreme winemaker at harvest time: The Scream.

            Higher even, a Finnish company grows grapes by splitting the atom. At 61º north, Latvian zilga grapes are nourished by the warm water run-off from the cooling system of the Olkiluoto nuclear power station. Finland was the first to venture back into nuclear after Chernobyl paralyzed the industry. The wine has been described as ``hearty'' and ``velvety,'' but that doesn’t impress everyone. ``This kind of wine will certainly not be served at events organized by the Green Party,'' says Ari Heikkinen, secretary of that environmentalist group. Helsinki sommelier Pekka Koiranen concurs, calling the idea, ``Maybe not so appealing.''

            At the other extreme, just 13 degrees north in Thailand’s New Latitude wine region, the Siam Winery boasts the world’s only floating vineyards. The vines grow in a series of interlaced canals, with large bunches of grapes dangling above the water’s surface. Their malaga blanc wine, with exotic aromas of lemongrass and watermelon, is the perfect complement to green curries.

            In the mountains of Western Uganda, a two-and-a-half acre plot behind the Valley Hotel at Bushenyi is perhaps the only vineyard on the equator.  With temperatures averaging 77 º -80 º F year-round, and two distinct dry and wet seasons, the ragged little vineyard produces crops in both March and September every year. The grapes are mostly French hybrids regalé and taveau. The wine was written up as, “astringent, slightly sour on the palate but quite full, with a reasonable amount of fruit.”

            Gallo is the world’s largest commercial winery, churning out sixty million cases a year. Their enormous fenced compound, corralling endless rows of two-hundred-thousand-gallon tanks, is often mistaken for an oil refinery. Come harvest, ten thousand tons of grapes a day begin a journey ending at one of seventeen bottling lines.

            A Chia pet in comparison, Canada’s Africus Rex Winery, at all of seven by eleven square feet, claims to be the world’s smallest winery. Viticulture, they feel, need not require acres of land and unique terroir. They’d like to help you explore the world of hydroponic vines, in severely confined places like your patio, terrace or closet.

            The one acre vineyard at New York City’s Queens County Farm Museum just yielded its first crop: four hundred pounds of chardonnay, cabernet and merlot. Nearby, the Long Island Expressway rumbles and belches its way past a baseball stadium, two airports and the detritus of two world’s fairs. That might account for the smoky, petrol notes in the wine.

            If you think that’s a sign we’re running out of space for vineyards, take heart.  Both the Mir Space Station and the Space Shuttle featured greenhouses and NASA is hard at work on the effects of gravity on plants.  When our grandchildren finally colonize another planet, you can be sure the first thing they’ll do upon landing is plant vines.