A cold spell that swept the west coast last spring has resonated throughout California’s wine country, and seemingly cast a shadow over Sunstone’s 2008 harvest.
The unusual cold snap struck at a critical time when the berries were still young and developing, resulting in a loss of clusters.
“The frost we had in March was not indicative of this growing region,” says winemaker Brittany Rice. Brittany has been involved in making the Rice Family’s wines since 1999 and in that time has never witnessed such a severe dip in temperature. Unaccustomed to such frosts, Sunstone was unable to protect the new clusters.
The adverse effects were especially dramatic in the low-lying areas. Strolling the vineyard as the season progressed, it became evident that there were fewer, smaller clusters, containing berries of all different sizes. “We’re definitely seeing a lesser yield, about two tons per acre versus the normal three or three-and-a-half tons per acre,” Brittany notes.
But there’s a silver lining in this act of Mother Nature. With fewer bunches per vine, each of the clusters received more attention and benefit from the nutrients and photosynthesis. The end result is a high quality harvest, with intense concentrations of flavor which will lend a bold and structured character to wines crafted from the 2008 harvest.
So, despite an unusual growing season, Brittany expects the 2008 estate and reserve releases will be the same superior quality Club Members have come to expect from Sunstone. “The quantity of grapes might be less,” she summarizes, “but the quality is extraordinary.”
Grape Stomp and annual romp draw sell-out crowd
The annual harvest Grape Stomp was held at Sunstone on two successive Saturdays, to a sold-out crowd of Club Members and their guests.
Intrepid revelers arrived as the morning fog was dissipating, and were met by Club Sunstone ‘Divas’ Carol Treat (Club Administrator) and Nicole Sattler (Events Manager). Energized with Sunstone Sunrises (a blend of orange juice and Viognier), coffee and pastries, they trekked through the lush vineyards on an in-depth tour led by vintner Bion Rice, and winemaker Brittany Rice. Trying on the role of apprentice winemakers, participants tested the readiness of the fruit with a refractometer, and learned about the unique geography of the region and our atypical 2008 growing season.
Wending their way to the production facility, Brittany gave the group an overview of wine-making techniques. Then all enjoyed a sneak-preview barrel tasting of the 2006 Rapsodie du Soleil − confirming that the newest version of this Rhone-style blend will be another winner.
But before they could clamber into the vat of grapes for the much anticipated stomp, our guests were put to work! A bottle-opening contest pitted the red team against the blue team, in a battle to uncork four cases of wine. Foils were flying and corks were popping as each squad raced through a dozen bottles of 2005 Eros, 2006 Estate Merlot, 2006 Syrah Rose and 2007 Chardonnay.
The impressive group effort of the ‘contestants’ paralleled the extraordinary teamwork required to bring the wine from the earth to the table. Bion recognized the cellar crew of Jose, Elena and Lupe, who have been with Sunstone over a decade, and extended thanks to all our patrons for their genuine support over the years.
And our members reciprocated. “It’s heartfelt,” said Colleen Burow, who was attending her third Stomp. “Hearing the kids (Bion and Brittany) talk about the vineyards, their family, and the wines: it’s a feel-good event.”
“The personal touch from the Rice family was wonderful,” said Joseph and Rina Lee, who added that the day’s festivities and warmth of friendships old and new “sealed the deal” in their decision to join Club Sunstone.
And at last: the Stomp! As grapes were delivered to the lawn our members pitched in, shoveling the fruit into the waiting vat; then squealing with laughter as their toes hit the juicy mass. There was picture-taking, and prancing, and a conga line (or two), as guests leapt feet-first into the age-old ritual. Afterwards they enjoyed music and dancing while John and Martha Poulis kept the wine flowing, and individual apple basket picnic lunches quelled their appetites.
“We love this one-on-one time with the members,” Brittany reflected. “When people come celebrate and enjoy the harvest, it motivates us to get out there and make more great wine."
Something for everyone
Club Sunstone’s monthly events offer something for everyone – from the casual movie-goer to the connoisseur of elegant dining.
Our inaugural Cinema Alfresco took advantage of a balmy summer night to screen the romantic comedy “A Good Year.” Members made a day of it, picking up their new releases and wine-tasting, before capping off the perfect day with the perfect evening. Seated amidst the ambience of Sunstone’s courtyard, beneath a starry sky, guests could easily fancy themselves part of the cast of the movie, which was filmed at a vineyard in Provence. A complimentary buffet of Eros, cheeses, Doce de Alma port, chocolate and coffee added to the great reviews. Cinema Alfresco is sure to become a perennial favorite and plans are already in place to screen “A Walk in the Clouds” – set in NapaValley, and called “a glorious romantic fantasy” by Roger Ebert – next August.
“Decadence” was the buzzword for Chef Jeff Olsson’s tribute to fall splendor at our annual Harvest Dinner October 4. Since ancient times people have gathered to celebrate and give thanks for a successful growing season, and Sunstone’s opulent fête followed in this tradition. The extraordinary, upscale menu was especially crafted by the experts at New West Catering to pair with our premium wines. Set in the CuveeCave, warmly decorated to reinforce the dynamic relationship of sun and earth that Sunstone honors, it proved an unforgettable evening for all.
Coming up, and back by popular demand, is our second annual Taste of Autumn luncheon, November 9. This three-course plated feast is also hosted in Sunstone’s CuveeCave, festively dressed in the harvest theme. Come bask in the gold and umber glow of the vineyard while you indulge in an elegant menu ($65 per person).
Wrapping up the season is the complimentary Open House, December 6. With our bucolic estate decorated for an old-fashioned holiday, it’s sure to get you in the spirit of the season. In addition to the tasting list, you’ll be treated to Doce de Alma port and spiced mulled wine throughout the day.
Indeed, Nicole points to our upcoming calendar as having “something for everyone – and a nice way to celebrate the year and enter the holiday season.” Make plans soon to pamper your loved ones, as our array of events is becoming increasingly popular. “Some people join us to celebrate a romantic occasion or birthday,” Nicole adds, “but many others bring out-of-town guests and friends they simply want to enjoy good times with.” Contact Nicole for reservations at nicole@sunstonewinery.com or 1-800-313-WINE, ext. 227. Must be 21 or over to attend.
Making a List? Checking it twice?
Santa’s Helpers have been busy with gift ideas for the wine enthusiasts on your list:
*A Gift Membership to Club Sunstone reminds your loved ones they’re thought of all year long. Select two, four or six bottle shipments; standard or reds only. Recipients enjoy all the benefits of membership including wine shipments, complimentary tastings, discounts, and events. Why not begin with our Holiday Bonus Shipment? As laws vary by state, please check with Carol Treat (ext. 234) when placing your order.
*The greatest gift we can give is the gift of time. Invite your guests to join you at one of Sunstone’s top-notch Special Events in 2009. Choose from theater outings, films, gourmet dinners, picnics, and more. See the enclosed order form, or contact Nicole Sattler (ext. 227) for details.
*In a hurry? Pre-packaged gift-boxes are available now from Sunstone. Recipients will be delighted with this clever assortment of wines, condiments, and other merchandise ... and you’ll be thrilled with the ease of shopping and shipping. Pick up your selection in the Tasting Room or order direct via our website or the enclosed form. Customized gift sets also available upon request.
Let Sunstone Winery put the “Joy” back in your holiday preparations! Orders placed by December 17 will be shipped in time for Christmas [12/25] or Chanukah [12/21], where permissible by law, within the continental United States.
Betsy Crowfoot July 11, 2003 -- Pleasant Holidays LLS, a Westlake Village company that has brought six-million tourists to the Hawaiian Islands, has purchased high-end tour wholesaler Hawaii World. But instead of pitting Davey against Goliath, the acquisition was described as a union long in the making.
“We didn’t have to get married, we wanted to,” said Mary Twist, who will continue as president of Hawaii World. “We have always been the twinkle in their upscale eye.”
Ed Hogan, CEO and founder of Pleasant Holidays, confirmed that he has had an eye on Hawaii World for some time. “I knew Rick when he was seven years old,” said Hogan of Hawaii World founder Rick Corbett. Hogan and Corbett’s father, Jim, were colleagues at now defunct Trans-Ocean Airlines.
“As time went on I could see the consolidation of businesses. I saw the dotcomms coming in and shrinking down the business of the regular travel agents,” said Hogan. “I’d call every two, three years and say, ‘Rick, if you’re ever thinking of selling …”
That time came earlier this month when Pleasant Holidays, which is owned by the Automobile Club of Southern California, purchased 25-year-old Hawaii World for an undisclosed amount. Each company will continue to operate independently, with Hawaii World headquartered in Livermore, about 45 miles east of San Francisco.
Ed's tips on providing po'okela (the best) service to malihini (tourists)
“A big mistake business people make is they chisel down their suppliers so much, they can’t deal with them. We don’t believe that. Never put your supplier out of business by chiseling him down. If I get good quality I will pay for it, and we have great suppliers we’ve dealt with for years and years.
“We’re able to buy good because suppliers know we deliver. We put together all the components in a package and don’t destroy the integrity of their pricing. The customers don’t know how much the components cost – they just says, ‘Isn’t this a good deal?!’ You wouldn’t be able to buy all the components individually as cheaply.”
Twist denied that the sale was a result of economic factors. Instead, she said, “This is a way for us to get access to their greater resources in the area of automation and online booking.” In addition she said Hawaii World’s strength has been in upscale travel including very deluxe destinations such as Maui’s Kea Lani or Four Seasons resorts, and will lend this image to Pleasant Holidays.
“This acquisition strengthens our position relative to the upper end of the Hawaii market,” said Pleasant Holidays president Tim Irwin. “Pleasant Holidays is the number one travel company to Hawaii and with the purchase of Hawaii World is now poised for further, more rapid growth.”
In the 40 years since its inception, Pleasant Holidays has indeed grown to become a leading economic factor in Hawaiian tourism, sending nearly half-a-million visitors to the islands each year.
The company was founded in 1959 by Ed Hogan in Point Pleasant, New Jersey, after hisearlier efforts to promote the Hawaiian Village Hotel there “flopped.”
“There were no jets, and Hawaii was a long ways away,” said Hogan. “Most East Coast people had relatives in Europe and went back to visit their roots.” But three years later Hogan revisited his dream of bringing people to Hawaii, when he was offered consulting work and office space in Panorama City and made a cross-country leap of faith.
He developed a scheme to promote Hawaii as a destination for mainland chamber of commerce conventions, touting the trip as a membership drive. “And if you got the chamber to go, it was like getting the Good Housekeeping magazine seal of approval,” Hogan said. Pleasant Holidays would drive traffic to chamber members by making them the point-of-purchase for a Hawaii vacation contest; to further whet the appetite, Hogan would encourage newspaper advertising and even provide the editorial staff free tickets to Hawaii.
It worked. Despite the 12-hour flight in a non-pressurized DC4 airplane, momentum for trans-Pacific travel was building. “People would see an Aloha shirt and think, ‘Wow, Hawaii!’ They’d hear Arthur Godfrey, or Hawaii Calls on the radio, and think, ‘Wow, Hawaii!’ It was charming, building up this exotic, South Pacific paradise. It really was, and still is.”
Hogan said Hawaii remains the perfect spot for vacationing, as he made a hang loose gesture with his hand. “It’s really laid back.”
“Travel is a precious thing. You work all year and now you have one or two weeks vacation time. You want no hassle; you want a quality product, with continually good service, at a proper price.”
Hogan said those three keys have kept Pleasant Holidays’ business up even as economic, health and social factors have devastated other areas of the travel industry.
“We had a heck of a year last year [2002]. From here [US] and Canada they’re going over plenty. We’re loaded up, running hotels at 92 percent occupancy. Europe is dead; people are really angry at France.
“But Hawaii,” he said with a snap of his fingers, “that’s America. It’s safe. The next two years, you’ll see a lot more domestic travel: people going to New York, the Grand Canyon, Yellowstone. They think, ‘Live today, thank God you’ve got your health and your family. Embrace it.’ People are a lot more family oriented, and also thinking, ‘Let’s take care of America. And that’s one of the benefits of Hawaii: the 50th state. Even if it is way out there.”
In 1999 Pleasant Holidays sold its tour operations to the Automobile Club. “My kids were in the business but not going to take it over, and this offered solidarity and a future for our good employees who had been with us for years,” said Hogan. The family retained several properties throughout the islands, which they operate as Pleasant Travel Service.
It was then that Hogan approached Hawaii World’s Corbett again. “I told him, ‘The Auto Club has a heck of a database, 46-billion all over the US, and only 10 percent of them take air trips! Let’s covert that to more and more. Together we can really do good.”
Hawaii World serves 40,000 to 50,000 visitors annually. The company will continue to operate out of Livermore and maintain all existing agency agreements, as well as its’ staff of 57.
Pleasant Holidays, LLC
Desc:Wholesale and retail tour operators providing air, hotel and car rental packages since 1959. Eight-percent of Pleasant Holidays’ business is to the Hawaiian Islands; the company also serves Mexico, Tahiti, Fiji, Australia, New Zealand, Asia, the Bahamas and Caribbean.
Headquarters:2404 Townsgate Road, Westlake Village, CA 91361
Revenue:Annual sales approach $500 million.
Employees:750 employees on the U.S. mainland and in Hawaii
Betsy Crowfoot Special to the Business Times 3/31/06
Bordered by ocean on two sides, speckled with lakes in between, the tri-county region is an angler’s paradise.
But there’s trouble in paradise, according to some area businesses, which have reported a declining interest in recreational fishing. Sales of fishing licenses—the leading barometer—have continued in a 20-year downslide. And the backlash is being felt by related businesses, forcing the industry into an upstream battle for survival.
Nationwide, California ranks second only to Florida in the economic impact of fishing, according to a 2002 analysis by the American Sportfishing Association. Almost $1.3 billion in salaries and wages—43,000 jobs—are attributed to recreational fishing statewide, with related retail sales of $2.4 billion, plus $62 million in state taxes.
But the number of ‘a-fish-ianados’ is slipping. In 2005, 1.2 million residents purchased fishing licenses, as opposed to two million, 30 years ago.
“Back in the 1960s we established our name for Halibut fishing, White Seabass, White Sharks ... fish you’d consider rare now,” said Channel Islands Sportfishing, or CIS, Assistant Manager Jeff Morgan. The company, which has operated for five decades under various names, has relied on repeat business from both outside of the region and within, to keep revenue up as customers and fish populations waned.
“There’s less fishing now than there was,” Morgan said, with “aggressive advertising” helping to weather the storm. “We’re putting it out there quite a bit.” Recently CIS exhibited at the Fred Hall Fishing Tackle and Boat Show, and began radio and billboard advertising. Expanding to whale watching has also helped keep their business afloat.
Saltwater fishing accounts for about 60 percent of sales at Eric’s Tackle Shop in Ventura, where owner Eric Huff said he too has taken a hit as a result of tighter governmental restrictions on species and habitat, including the Channel Islands Marine Protected Areas. “Things have gotten tougher with all the closures. The season shuts down; we have practically two months of inactivity,” Huff said.
They have expanded into bird hunting ammunitions, and begun more robust marketing, including more industry shows and advertising.
Another factor Huff observed is a marked decline in the number of young anglers. “Fishing isn’t cool anymore. Kids are into extreme sports: they want a quick thrill, something that doesn’t require patience.”
In response, Huff supports children’s fishing programs, including the mid-March Kids Fishing Day at Lake Casitas. He supplied all the hooks, lines and sinkers for the free daylong angling event.
“I don’t know too many kids who can go out there and not end up loving it. Once they catch a fish they go berserk.”
“I love to see kids fish,” Huff said. “It’s fun, and it’s the future of my business.”
Getting kids hooked on fishing is a key focus for Lake Casitas Park Services Officer Rob Weinerth too. “Parents aren’t taking their kids fishing anymore,” he said, blaming extra-curricular activities and the hectic pace of family life. As a result, Weinerth has spearheaded children’s fishing days, and increased the number of easy-to-catch, self-sustaining fish species at Lake Casitas.
“Western Florida Blue Gill, Black Crappie and Catfish are fish the average person is able to catch,” he said, increasing the level of excitement that will lure future anglers.
In addition, Weinerth said they’re dedicated to maintaining the world-class bass fishing that keeps them on the front page of the fishing news, and a prime destination for tournaments.
“We run as a private enterprise, so we don’t get tax money per se,” Weinerth said. “All the money we spend comes from user fees, so if we don’t make it, we don’t stay open.” He hoped current programs would continue to attract newcomers to the sport, despite continually increasing license fees.
Even as the number of licensees has decreased, California’s Department of Fish and Game has upped fees annually. The current cost is $34.90: a far cry from the $3 annual fee 30 years ago—when one-in-10 Californians carried a license.
Huff insisted the requirement for fishing licenses is a case of detrimental double dipping. “There’s a 10 percent excise tax built into anything fishing-related manufactured in the U.S.,” Huff explained. “When you buy a pack of sinkers, 10 percent is supposed to go to the fisheries.”
One fishing manufacturer who’s found a niche that hasn’t lost its luster is MacDaddy’s Lures. The Shell Beach company, founded by retired jewelry designer ‘Mac’ McBurney and Teri Conrad, produces luxury lures of precious metals and gems.
“The fish just love diamonds and rubies,” announced McBurney, who said the company’s solid gold, engraved and jewel-encrusted lures and flies are meant to be fished with. “They’re lucky.”
Prices start at $20 and skyrocket to $1 million and, “orders are pouring in,” McBurney said. “Holy Mackerel!” he said. “The response surpassed our wildest dreams.”
Regardless of the level of interest people have in fishing; the fish are biting. According to United Anglers of Southern California President Tom Raftican, “The fishing is pretty good out there now.”
Raftican pointed to record halibut and largemouth bass, landed in California waters recently.
“We’ve got great fisheries going on. You can’t judge fishing overall by one species or one region. Are some areas hurting financially? Yeah. But there are more people out there saltwater fishing, overall in California, and the fishing is great.”
For tri-county businesses, the challenge will remain getting the word out, and luring a pool of new anglers in years to come.
AS SEEN IN SANTA BARBARA MAGAZINE August/September 2003
TIRED OF BUMPING INTO THE SAME old yachts while plying the Aegean?
Instead, play the pampered rock star in our own azure waters with a posh, several-days-long, Mediterranean-style sailing holiday in the Santa Barbara Channel. Several local outfits can set you and your friends up in style with a crewed yacht while you stop at scantily visited isles with secluded, pebbly beaches, and enjoy superb meals.
For your utmost hedonistic pleasure the Santa Barbara Sailing Center recently launched personalized gourmet sailing trips on cozy yachts of 32 to 50 feet. Picture chef Charles Fredericks, recently of Bouchon, at the on-deck grill asking you how you want your juicy Black Angus steak. Or Sage & Onion’s chef/owner Steven Giles in starched jacket and toque in the rocking galley as he whips up some haute cuisine.
The Sailing Center’s luxury trips are the vision of SBSC owner Skip Abed who, as an impressionable teen, sailed with his family through the Greek Isles on a chartered 61- foot ketch with a captain, cook and first mate.
Trips are customizable, from a day or two to however long, and meals created to your specifications by a top local chef. Drop anchor at will knowing you have your own ‘floating hotel room’ to snuggle in to for the night.
AS SEEN IN THE VENTURA COUNTY STAR By Betsy Crowfoot
May 14 2006 VENTURA, CA - Logan Kovarick, 10, was eager to catch his first fish.
Standing on the dock at Lake Casitas he proved a tenacious angler, repeatedly throwing his line against the wind into the choppy green water – pausing only to gasp at the outstretched wings of a great blue heron soaring overhead.
An hour into the outing Logan had nearly perfected the art of casting, unlike Rebecca Crowley, 14, whose last furious pitch dislodged the bait from the hook, launching it back in her face.
“Ewww!” she squealed, peeling a six-inch nightcrawler off her cheek.
“’Rebecca got worm-slapped!” roared Coco Crowfoot, also 14, and the whole group crumbled in laughter.
Welcome to the unpredictable world of moms, kids and the great outdoors.
Fishing and camping have traditionally been dad’s realm. But today nearly one-quarter of America’s children are being raised by single moms. And with that shift has come a disruption in tradition. Without fathers or grandfathers to bait the hook or set up the tent, more and more children are missing the boat – literally and figuratively – on the out-of-doors.
Studies, such as a 2002 report from the University of Florida, have indicated that exposing children to the “complex and dynamic” natural world helps them grow up to be stronger, more flexible adults; with a keen sense of stewardship for the environment.
Author Richard Louv called current trends towards sterile, controlled play, the source of “nature-deficient disorder” in his book Last Child in the Woods. Reuniting youngsters with their natural surroundings, he said, is therapeutic for both kids and mother earth.
So a handful of intrepid moms and youngsters recently set off for Lake Casitas in search of fish, adventure, and a new legacy.
Just 10 minutes north of Ventura, the 2,500-acre reservoir was close, convenient, and accommodating. Park Services Officer Rob Weinerth met the group, introducing himself to the youngsters as ‘Ranger Rob’, and helped select the menu for the day: a buffet of nightcrawlers, mealy worms and mackerel. With the aid of several Park Hosts he showed the kids how to attach hooks and bait to a cache of loaned rods and reels, then advanced to the tricky art of casting, and intermittent checking of nibbled-off worms, re-baiting, and re-casting.
“For kids, fishing can be hard because they’re impatient,” admitted Jan Kovarick, Logan’s mother. “But this is one of those situations when you’ve got a lot of time for things to come to the surface. If parents and kids have anything to talk about, this is the time to do it.”
While Jan was looking to connect with her son, Connie Crowley was seeking to “increase the cool factor.”
Her teenage daughter Rebecca, son Maxx and friend Harrison Merritt (both 12), “Got a kick out of the idea of me taking them fishing because it’s out of the general mom mode,” she said. “I want them to know that certain activities are not gender-based.”
Although no one was catching, the group wasn’t deterred. The boys alternately fished, or skateboarded along a roadway edged with poppies and lupine. The girls giggled as an overly-curious mallard tried to steal Coco’s lure. Fast-moving clouds decorated the sky, and the lake turned a frothy green.
Despite the idyllic setting, there were few visitors. Attendance at Lake Casitas has steadily declined over the last decade, said Ranger Rob, who identified competition from extra-curricular sports and activities as the culprits. “Parents aren’t taking their kids fishing anymore,” he observed.
Concurrently the fishing industry has bemoaned a decline in the sport, as reflected in sales of licenses. Thirty years ago more than one in ten Californians carried a sportfishing license; nowadays it’s nary three-percent, with just 1.4-million issued in 2005. License fees have increased $10 in the last decade to $34.90, prompting more people to opt for an $11.30 day pass.
To encourage residents to try their hands at fishing the California Department of Fish and Game sponsors two license-free days each year (June 10 and September 23 in 2006). And private recreational entities like Lake Casitas continue to lure anglers with the promise of fish, fish and more fish.
In addition to Trout and Bass, Lake Casitas is regularly stocked with Florida Bluegill, Black Crappie and Catfish: species -- according to Ranger Rob -- that the average person can catch with ease.
“It doesn’t really matter what you catch,” explained young Harrison. “You can catch anything, and you feel really proud of yourself.”
“It’s an adrenaline rush,” Coco piped in, recalling her initiation as an angler.
“At 30-something I still remember my first fish,” Ranger Rob reflected. “I was four years old, fishing off a pier in San Luis, and I caught a big Cabazon. My dad helped me bring it up because it was too big.”
“It’s still exciting to catch fish, and be with friends and family when you do it,” he continued. “I've made it out on the water 60 to 90 days a year since I was 12. For our family it’s a lifestyle: we’ll probably be fishing until we die.”
Predictably, Ranger Rob was the driving force behind annual Kids Fishing Days at Lake Casitas. Free events aimed at getting kids hooked on fishing included casting games, prizes and ponds jam-packed with Trout. Most of the 333 youngster who attended March 25 caught their first fish ever.
Eric’s Tackle Shop in Ventura provided hooks, line and sinkers for the event. “I love to see kids fish,” said proprietor Eric Huff. “I don’t know too many kids who go out there, who don’t end up loving it once they catch a fish. They go berserk!”
For youngsters like Logan, still awaiting that sweet moment of success, the payoff is worth the wait.
“I bet it’ll feel cool,” he whispered shyly, looking forward to that rite of passage.
“Just being out here, letting Logan cast a few times, has been worthwhile,” his mom added. "Anything that gives kids a little more confidence in handling something they’ve never done before, is just awesome.”
Past meets present during the Scottish Classic Malts Cruise
As seen in SAILING September 2002
By Betsy Crowfoot with photography by Christine Spreiter and Mark Pepper
We awoke to the now familiar patter of rain on the hatch overhead and savored the last moments of warmth. Although it was July, Scotland was relentlessly cool and drizzly. "Soft," the Scots called it and indeed, the surrounding hills were plush with grass and the rocks spongy with moss.
Sealgair, our 46-foot Oyster, rocked gently to port, then starboard, as our neighbors aboard the gaff-rigged Eda Frandsen started the process of shoving off. Nestled under a down comforter we listened to the crescendoing aubade: the heavy steps of the guys topside; Eda Frandsen's thick lines—ropes so fat you could hardly fit your hand around—sliding along the deck; the clanging of the teapot in the galley; all underscored with a lyrical Scottish brogue.
My daughter Coco, and I, had been invited to join the Classic Malts Cruise, which is held every July in northwest Scotland. Although not much of a whisky drinker, I was anxious to escape our flat in Southampton, a dreary industrial port, and see the countryside.
The Classic Malts Cruise is sponsored by United Distillers & Vintners, makers of various whiskies, Guinness, and other spirits. More than 100 boats come each year to enjoy a series of events at three distilleries. In between the cruisers meander through the scenic isles. We jumped in at the gathering at Talisker in the middle of the two-week cruise.
We flew into Inverness, about two-thirds of the way up the eastern coast of Scotland and the entry point of the Caledonian Canal, which links the North Sea to the Atlantic (for those wanting to avoid the northern passage around the aptly named Cape Wrath). Driving the length of this rift valley across Scotland, we began to absorb the atmosphere of the Highlands.
Coco strained to examine all 22 miles of Loch Ness as we rambled by, hoping for a glimpse of Nessie (first sighted by Saint Columba in 565 AD). At the foot of the loch we went west, driving past the Five Sisters, a quintet of mountains gouged with skinny waterfalls that shone like threads of mercury. We passed the beautifully restored Eilean Donan Castle, and traversed the new bridge that replaced the Cal Mac ferry roughly a decade ago, to the Isle of Skye.
Skye earned its name from the Norse term on skuy which means misty isle and true to form, foreboding clouds lapped over the Cuillin mountains. As we approached the small coastal hamlet of Carbost, people waved as they passed in cars that squeezed by on narrow gravel roads rimmed with tiny yellow daisies and pink clouds of heather.
Talisker's angular, white buildings stood out against a backdrop of ebony stone and verdant hills. Originally a sheep farm, the owners added a distillery in 1827 over the objection of local clergy. But by the end of the century Talisker had become one of Scotland's most popular single malts. During a tour of the distillery, we traipsed from the pungent mash tuns to the musty cellar where we, of course, sampled a wee dram even though the Talisker made my eyes weep. At 46-percent alcohol, it’s one of the strongest of the classic malts, with an intense peppery, peaty-iodine flavor. Meanwhile, the children enjoyed barrel-building contests and games of water shanty and lobster hunts (not for real lobsters, although seafood was abundant later that night, at a huge Ceilidh or Scottish country dance. Hardy sailors in matching blue fleece pullovers that were free to all participants gathered beneath a huge tent, where Scottish lore was played out in song and dance. Ruddy-faced cruisers reeled and stomped to "Strip the Willow" and "The Dashing White Sergeant," late into the night. There were hundreds of revelers, many who had done the cruise several times, since it's inception 10 years ago.
The fellows aboard Cicero of Rhu told me it was an annual getaway for them—a two-week-long boys-night-out. An Irish couple, Stephen Clarkson and Fiona O'Neil, also returned for their fourth cruise, enduring an 80-mile sprint across the North Channel and through the Inner Hebrides each time. Sailing Vilia, a slender, low-profiled 32-foot gaff-rigged sloop, from Belfast Loch was a challenge, Stephen said. But the scenery, so many choices of anchorages, and a good crowd of people kept luring them back. The cruise was definitely a family affair with sailors from 10 weeks old to … well, we were too polite to ask.
With Saturday's forecast for strong winds on the nose, our skipper Graham Moss, decided to get a head start on our first destination, 40 miles away. Already the yacht was bursting with aroma. Topi Morris, our cook and first mate, was busy preparing what would become a satisfying repertoire of classic Scottish dishes. She admitted she preferred to be below decks cooking, where it's warm, and had actually retired as a cruising chef before being talked into coming back for one more season.
Friday night we peeked at two anchorages to the southeast and decided to overnight at Soay, a stout figure-eight-shaped isle. It was only possible to enter the pinched isthmus at high tide, and carefully lining up two sticks ashore, we snuck in. As the tide dropped there was barely a skim of water over the shingle bar at the entrance. We were trapped, in a comfortable, protected harbor until morning.
The derelict remains of a post-World War II shark oil processing plant had survived just ashore and its moss-covered stone buildings and decaying metal boilers provided a playground for the crew the next morning while we waited for the tide to come in. Then, it was off to Loch Scavaig, a dramatic spot where a spidery waterfall cascaded down the cliff, tracing a ravine carved over the millennia.
The bay was shadowed by the 3,000-foot-high Black Cuillins, volcanic mountains with imposing names like Am Basteir (The Executioner) and An Garbh-choire (The Wild Cauldron) tackled by only the most adept mountaineers. We took the dinghy to a rickety-looking steel dock at the northern tip of the anchorage to go exploring and ran into two of these hikers—young women, burdened with backpacks as big as themselves. They had been perched for two rainy days in a tent near the landing, hoping not to miss the infrequent ferry. I’m sure we would have had stowaways if the small motorboat hadn't shown up to fetch them. Leaving, we passed near Prince Charles Cave, one of several places where Bonnie Prince Charlie hid after a blundering attempt to reclaim the throne of Scotland in 1745.
Sealgair was launched in 1989, as the wooden original for the Oyster 46 design. Built of two-inch mahogany, she was heavy and robust under way and secure down below. Coco and I shared a luxurious double berth aft, with our own head and hot shower. But we spent most of our time in the saloon, warmed by a perpetual kettle of tea, rocking to Scottish tunes from Topi's library: Anna Murray's Celtic funk; Dougie Maclean (who is to Scotland what John Denver is to the United States); Wolfstone; Capercaille and the Gorillaz.
Graham had leased the yacht for several seasons to run a charter business. In some ways, he pointed out, it was similar to an earlier stint as a guide in the Himalaya: both involved tending to customers and a fair amount of independence. Although he had spent eight years cruising these waters, he said there were still plenty of new places to explore. Considering Scotland has 787 islands and 6,338 miles of coastline, this wasn't surprising.
Close friends with Toby Robinson, the skipper of Eda Frandsen, Graham decided to buddy boat with them during the cruise. Eda Frandsen is a 1936 cutter originally built as a Danish fishing boat. Ten years ago she was decommissioned and converted for charter. Fifty-feet of classic, rustic beauty made Eda Frandsen appealing to groups, and she carried five guests, plus the crew, including Toby's mother Mary, as cook.
Together we approached Inverie: a span of humble whitewashed buildings in Knoydart, shadowed by the Munros, four 3,000-foot mountains coveted by a class of hikers called "Munro baggers," along the Bay of Loch Nevis. One of the few buildings was the Old Forge, Great Britain's most remote pub. There were no roads to this place, just well-worn footpaths and an "X" on the chart.
Another Ceilidh was rumored to be scheduled for Saturday night, and sure enough when we arrived, a dozen young women were clustered about a patchwork of tables. A few fellows had squeezed in too, including one who nodded off, despite the lively Gaelic music. Guests pushed aside the hodge-podge of chairs and tables, and soon a small scrap of dance floor had opened up. The band played feverishly all night on instruments we'd never seen before and even struck up Happy Birthday for Coco, who turned 10 that day.
On the way in we'd deposited our jackets near the door, on a pile of slickers the size of a buffalo. Somehow, on the way out, everyone retrieved the proper garment. Smugly we ambled out to the pier, until we realized the tide had receded during our outing, and our dinghy was spinning, ant-sized, in the water below.
We swarmed down the algae-slicked ladder, but the boat was another five feet beneath the last rung. Dangling and jumping, with the help of two sturdy sailors, we made it into the dinghy. Nearby a tottering old Scot attempted the same with great jolliness, and plunked right into the water. It was hardly waist deep and he continued to laugh as he pawed through the dozen or so boats until he found his, clambered in and rowed away.
The familiar patter of rain returned later that night so we were in no hurry Sunday morning. The seas and wind were flat, so we would take our time motoring to Muck Island. Its Gaelic name, Eilean Nam Muc, or Isle of Pigs, referred not to porky pigs, but sea hogs as evidenced by the corpulent seals that blended in with the smoothed rocks along the edge of the bay.
As soon as we set anchor at Muck, a smiling, blond, fresh-faced boy rowed out to greet us. He stood confidently on the gunwales and lifted up a plain metal bucket for us to examine. It was chock full of snapping pink crabs. Another bucket overflowed with fat blushing shrimp. We bought them all.
Muck is a bucolic, low-lying island, with the omnipresent sheep grazing in knee-high grass that stretches down to white sandy beaches. Its few residents are self-sufficient (there are just a couple dozen who stay there year-round) and until recently the handful of children were schooled in a corrugated iron shed with an outhouse. During our hour-long walk we saw no one, but experienced what would be a rare glimpse of Scottish sunshine. It was a glorious afternoon: blue skies and turquoise water.
Broad reaching under increasingly overcast skies, we made a pleasant 6 knots past several other isles: Eilean nan Each, Eilean Aird nan Uan and the neighboring enclave known presently as Eigg. Most of these islands are still almost completely undeveloped. In fact, only one-quarter of Scotland's islands are inhabited. An obstacle course preceded that night's anchorage. At the entrance to Loch Moidart sits Eilean Shona, so with cruising guide in hand, we picked our way through the rocks of the south channel, zigging and zagging, abreast a roaring countercurrent at one point, then past Castle Tioram. Built during the 13th and 14th centuries on a tidal island by the Macdonalds of Clanranald, Castle Tioram was the site of several skirmishes. Ultimately, in 1715, the owners burned it down to prevent it from falling into the enemy's hands. Every night Topi had invited other cruisers to join us for dinner and enjoy regional treats like Highland beef steaks, haggis (lamb gizzards with oatmeal) and seafood and on Monday night the crew of the 105-foot square rigger Jean de la Lune reciprocated with a whisky “nosing.”
Unlike my first nosing—a somber affair with furrowed brows and burrowed snouts—this was casual and fun. We nestled into cozy sofas in a paneled, carpeted retreat, we were prodded to use familiar terms to identify the flavors and aromas of the samples. Gingerly we began dissecting the scents: fig, cinnamon and vanilla, wild cherries, toffee, caramelized apples, mocha (I began to fantasize about Baskin Robbins) Smokey, spicy, medicinal, and so on.
Scotch whisky is basically just a distilled mixture of barley, water and yeast. But multifarious influences such as the water source; origin and strain of barley, as well as the yeast; climate; copper stills; the application of peat fire and smoke; the type of cask; location and length of aging—all define its flavors.
Slowly the flavors unfolded before me. Dalwhinnie, made in the central Highlands, harbored a heather-honey sweetness, while Lagavulin, from the outer isle of Islay, was potent and salty. Glenkinchie, sometimes referred to as a "lady's malt" (I scoffed) was a pale, dry aperitif made just miles from the capital city of Edinburgh in the eastern Lowlands, and hence had a lemon-grassy nose. Smooth and mildly fruity, with a hint of vanilla spice, Oban was made with water from the mossy hills adjoining the bay. Blending the delicate sweetness of the Highland malts with a touch of smokiness and a zephyr of sea air, it was no surprise that this would become my favorite.
We awoke Tuesday, none too heavy-headed, in Loch Droma na Buidhe, an elliptical anchorage between Morvern, on the mainland, and the Island of Oronsay. I bolted upright, startled not by rain but the howling of a strong westerly through the rigging. Overhead, amidst a cerulean sky, puffy white clouds streamed by. A trip to Tobermory—earlier discounted with predictions of rain—was back on and we left even before toast and tea.
After four days at sea, civilization was welcome. Tobermory did not disappoint, as the crescent of brilliantly colored two-story buildings appeared on the distant shore. The Tobermory Chocolate Company sat whimsically adjacent to street signs that warned "Weight Restriction Ahead." A gourmet food shop promised "Whisky Galore" and sold a cheese called ”Stinking Bishop". There was a laundromat, restaurants, pubs, and shops.
From here though the sailing got serious. We were bound for the Point of Ardnamurchan, the westernmost spit of the British mainland, and it was blowing like stink, of course, right on the nose. The guys proclaimed it a full Force 7 (about 30 knots) as we romped through the waves. Graham howled the Scottish equivalent to "Yee haw!" while everyone else clutched the cockpit combing. Once round the point we cracked off down the Sound of Mull on an invigorating sail the length of this fjord. In the 13th and 14th centuries a chain of castles was built on either side, making it possible to transmit a beacon signal from one to the next. We passed several of these citadels and ruins, and another classic: the J-Class yacht Velsheda, built in 1933.
At the foot of the sound, where the Lynn of Morven met Bernera Bay, we squeezed into a sliver of an anchorage between the small craggy Bernera Island, and the pastoral bluffs of Lismore. The skeleton of the old Bishop's Castle stood vigil as we relaxed that night in the cockpit of the sturdy wooden yacht. A Swiss photographer onboard described this trip as his "pilgrimage" as we bobbed imperceptibly at our mooring, sipping the world's most coveted single malts, and eavesdropped on Toby and his mate, Thew, singing softly on the bow of Eda Frandsen. Our resident distillery guy, Mike Nicolson, dug another bottle of some special vintage out of his duffel, for us to indulge.
Through the hatch, from the cabin below, came the delightful laughter of several children: a cacophony of giggles and snorts in a United Nations of dialects. The approach to colorful Tobermory A faint Scottish mist enveloped us—you could hardly say it was falling—as we sniffed and swirled and relished these sublime whiskies in a moment of peaceful bliss. The next morning the yacht would arrive in Oban, the gateway to the Hebrides on the Scottish mainland. By local standards Oban is a major port, with plenty of facilities and shops and another distillery. The fleet would layover for more parties, games, tastings and provisioning, before continuing south to the island of Islay and the final events at the Lagavulin distillery. But we would be getting off and returning to Southampton. I savored that final night under a soft Scottish sky and enjoyed another wee dram.
For more information on the Classic Malts Cruise visit www.worldcruising.com or for information on chartering in Scotland visit www.sailscotland.co.uk.
Saturday, December 5, 2009
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