Grape Escape Diary Part One - Our first 6 months!

© 2006 Caroline Wardle Feely

This edition of the diary was published in the Irish Independent Weekend Magazine Saturday 20th May 2006.
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June 1998

Pierre-Jacques dipped the pipette into the wine-stained barrel. He transferred tasting amounts swiftly to our outstretched glasses. We stood in the entrance to his cellar – a cave hewn out of the Loire Valley’s chalky cliffs – captivated as much by the softening gold of the sun as by his sensuous descriptions. “I think this wine is like an ageing dancer. Her moves are supple, part of her mind’s pattern, and then she performs a piroutte she used only to do when much younger.” It was true, the wine was smooth across our tongue before fresh raspberries lingered on the palette.

He chronicled the weather three years before, the monthly transformation in the grapes from each of his parcels of vines, and the gentle sheparding of the harvest. “The wines are grown. I am not a wine maker. I merely help the grapes’ transformation,” he explained. Something stirred in my husband Seán’s blood and I was more than romanced. Our interest in wine was transformed. No longer was it a beverage but a living liquid bright with memory.

Back in Dublin after our holidays, we eschewed mass-produced bottles of alcoholised fruit juice and sought out artisanal wines – made by vignerons whose lives were expressed in them. In subsequent years, we traveled around France on our holidays looking for and finding more vignerons like Pierre-Jacques. Seán took night classes for his diploma in wine. I took french classes, read wine textbooks, magazines, the web… and dreamed.

March 2005

I’m dreamy now reading through emails while Ellie sleeps. Seán searches for property on the internet every night hoping that one will appear that that fits our criteria – at least 10 hectares of vines, a house and a gite, a walk to a village (with a school), good views – and our price range. In short, a miracle.

He leaves home at about 6.30a.m. and gets back around 7p.m. Investment management is stressful and Dublin traffic is hell. They’re taking their toll on his health and on the rest of us too. Sophia (our two year old) really misses him. I do too… especially at 5pm with a toddler and a newborn to placate. Sometimes I wish I was back in my work (a small software venture capital firm). I need to go back for a holiday.

We want to spend more time with our kids, to be outdoors, to live organic and have no commute. A vineyard is our dream but it looks out of reach. A French property newsletter interrupts my dosy reverie. The vineyard in it looks too good to be true. I email Seán in a frenzy of excitement. I call the agent, My-French-House. It’s been sold. I am totally deflated.

Later the agent calls to say it is back on the market. Seán needs to go and look at it as quickly as possible as there are other buyers interested. Now I am worried this is a big mistake. I am not ready to leave Dublin. We don’t have enough money to do this even if we get a good price for our house.

Seán’s trip turns our world upside down. This property looks like the one. We spend an exhilarating and agonising weekend argueing the pros and cons of it and of the move that it represents… serenaded by our newborn and toddler.

May 2005

We have made a verbal offer on the property. I am struggling to sleep at night. We have done a business plan. The venture capitalist in me is not convinced…the mother, wife and dreamer is.

This plan is filled with uncertainty. What price will we get for our house? Will the transaction complete in time for us to buy the place in France? If we get to France will we be able to make it work? What is the place like? I haven’t seen it (except on the photos Seán brought back from his viewing trip) and am unlikely to until we move as Ellie’s passport still hasn’t arrived.

How did we get into this so fast?

June 2005

Our offer has been accepted and the paperwork is in motion. From what I understand from the notaire it could still fall through until the last moment. Just a little more uncertainy. Great.

My Mum cried when I told her. She couldn’t talk to me for more than a week she was so upset.

July 2005

The sale of our house completed yesterday. The moving truck collected our belongings and we moved into a furnished weekly rental. The news of our move is starting to circulate as we have both officially resigned. I called an old friend who still hadn’t heard.

‘Saucy Jack?’ said John.
‘No’ said I laughing. ‘Saussignac. Its famous for its sweet wines. Haven’t you heard of it?’
‘No. We’ll have to come and try them’

It was a familiar refrain. No-one had heard of Saussignac and few had heard of Bergerac, the larger appellation regulating our red and white wines. Bergerac neighbours onto Bordeaux (and produces similar wines from the same types of grapes) but is still relatively unknown.

French wine is in crisis with lakes of over-production. We don’t know much about the hands-on running of a vineyard. We speak very limited French. What are we thinking?

August 2005

The Rock Road is deserted. It’s usually bumper to bumper heading into Dublin. I stare blearily out of the taxi amid mountains of luggage. It was a late night packing and now it’s a very early morning – 4am to be precise. Sophia and Ellie look remarkably wide-eyed, despite attempts to keep them asleep.

This empty road holds so many memories for us. Two momentous trips into Holles Street, trips to Temple Street, to friends, to work... Tears well up in my eyes.

We arrive at the airline counter with our two-storey trolley of luggage. The Aer Lingus representative looks at us with mild amusement. Her eyes flick over the stratospheric total on the scale. She smiles, shifts the bags along and hands us our boarding cards. She hasn’t charged a cent for excess.

Seán is adamant we should drive to Chateau Haut Garrigue from the airport. I am in denial. All I want to do is go back home.

We navigate our luggage mountain out of Bordeaux airport. Forty-five minutes later we’re still in the car park trying to coax it into a hire-car. I am seconds from becoming a weeping blob on the tarmac when Seán declares that it’s all in.

A few days ago while still residing comfortably in Dublin I discovered our prospective property, ‘Garrigue’ on an ancient map. It has been a named vineyard for centuries or perhaps a lot longer. Wine has been produced in the region for thousands of years.

We finally reach Saussignac. Then Chateau Haut Garrigue is in front of us. No warning, no long avenue of trees, no signs. The current owners’ dogs thrash around the car creating havoc.

I try to orientate myself from photos I’ve seen. The houses and chai (winery) are more run-down than I expected but the views are magnificent. The classic U-shaped farm houses and outbuildings are built on a plateau above the Dordogne Valley. I am stunned by the opportunity and the renovation task it presents. The natural beauty is breathtaking. It’s historic too. The date1737 is etched above the cellar and original buildings.

The dogs head over to Ellie’s buggy to slaver on her tiny hands. I grab a wipe and clean them before she can put them into her mouth. We leave to find our chambre d’hote (B&B).

Within days we have a bank account and a new car (with aircon- the temperature reaches 30 most days – what a change from Ireland). Sophia is registered with a local école maternelle (pre-school). Seán and I have realised just how bad our French is.

At last the transaction completes and we can move into Chateau Haut Garrigue. Myriam, the owner of our chambre d’hote takes Sophia, Ellie and I to our new home as Seán goes to collect our new furniture. She loads us up with gifts – hand-me-down toys for Sophia and bottles of fig jam. We arrive at Chateau Haut Garrigue and haul our luggage inside. Myriam calls out ‘Bon Courage’ as she leaves. I feel mine fail.

I go into the dark, shuttered house… It doesn’t feel like home. It feels empty and run-down. I start cleaning cupboards. There is dirt everywhere. The shower hasn’t been cleaned in decades. There is black fungus centimetres deep down back corners and up the sides. The kitchen sink has brown gunk ingrained into the supposedly stainless steel. After an hour the sink is stainless again and I’m feeling much better.

Later Seán arrives in a truck with our beds, fridge, dishwasher and washing machine. By the end of our first day we are totally exhausted but we have beds made with linen from a neighbour, cupboards clean enough for our new delph and a working washing machine, dishwasher and fridge.

We drink a toast to our new home with a bottle of our own ‘Chateau Haut Garrigue’ red (it tastes great, thank God, as we have bought the bottle stock as part of the purchase) and eat a picnic. Dublin feels a lifetime away although it is only days since we left. I fall asleep as soon as my head hits the pillow.

At 3a.m I wake to lashing rain of a summer storm. I find Seán running around the kitchen placing pots and potties in strategic places. Our 1-day old home is a leaking ship.

The next morning droppings in Ellie’s pram confirm a mouse infestation. We soon realise they are everywhere… eating our food and even Ellie’s clothes. My days become consumed with the Mouse War. We deploy sonic devices, rat traps, mouse traps and mouse chocolate. Each time one runs across the room I jump two feet in the air and scream. So much for a less stressful life.

Ten days later we are free of them. The local one-man hardware store sells the world’s most sensitive mousetraps. At 95 cents each they are the cheapest remedy so far and they take them down – all eight of ‘them’. I almost miss them now they are gone.

The shower is going to take more serious effort. I have taken to spraying it with ‘extra fort anti-moussiture’ every couple of hours. I am getting a little obsessed. Even when we are out I find myself looking at my watch and reaching for the spray.

September 2005

The moving truck arrived this Sunday with our belongings from Dublin. It was so comforting to be surrounded by Irish accents I felt like hugging the fellas. They stayed for dinner and I wished they could have stayed longer.

We are living in one large room together as we renovate the next room for the girls. We have been here for three weeks and I feel like we have got nowhere. The room we are renovating is still in a frightening state. Seán tried to convince me that we really had achieved a lot – ‘heck- we have moved country!’

We got up at 6a.m to watch the vendange machine picking the grapes from our sauvignon blanc vines. The sunrise was magnificent –long gold fingers through the vines. A neighbour who bought the grapes from the previous owners (due to the timing of the transaction they own the harvest) has also rented our chai (winery) for a few months. We watched as the grapes came into our presses. Jeremy (our neighbour) explained the idiosyncracies of our chai as he worked. We drank a couple of bottles of the juice. It was exquisite. Fresh sauvignon blanc, sweet with the classic aromas of lime and gooseberry and a delicious zesty finish.

Sophia started school two days after we moved in. On the 4th day when I dropped her off she sobbed unconsolably. Were we expecting too much of her? Was the change too great? I slept badly and was dreading a repeat performance the next day. As we drove into the school parking a brave voice declared ‘I am not going to cry today’. Now she cries if she can’t go to school.

October 2005

My birthday card from our closest friends in Dublin arrived with the caption ‘The Road to a Friend’s House is never Long’. I dissolved into tears. I miss my friends and my work. There is so much to learn about farming and marketing our wine. We are spending money like water and not making any. My mind swirls with doubts.

Then I open the bedroom shutters and see deer stepping elegantly through the vines or I smell the fermenting wine and the doubts dissolve. This evening a red squirrel scurried away from our nut trees as I approached. Each day is another step forward. We are another step closer to making this home.

Despite my homesickness I cannot fault our new community. The people are generous and warm. The builder who came to look at our leaking roof fixed it in half an hour and wouldn’t take any payment. Neighbours offer advice, contacts and encouragement. Another winegrower did all the electrical work for our new kitchen as a gift. Even the world-famous french civil servants are friendly and helpful.

November 2005

We made our first ‘Ho Ho Haut’ Garrigue Christmas case offer to customers and friends in Ireland last week. We watched the orders come in through our website with a mixture of excitement and trepidation. Would we be able to finish the capsuling, labelling and packing in time for the transport date?

We worked round the clock in the unheated barn for the four days to get the cases ready. With the temperatures the wrong side of zero Ellie was remarkably good natured wrapped in five layers of blankets in her buggy.

The success of the Christmas offer has filled me with hope that we can make this work. Stories of insolvent wine-growers abound. Local vignerons caution ‘prudence’ as the wine business is ‘trés dur’ (very hard).

December 2005

Seán has started pruning our 10 hectares of vines. Its going to take him about three months of hard labour. He is out there in sunshine, rain and snow but its more of the latter two than the former at the moment. He’s lost weight, gained muscle and is looking much happier and healthier than he did a year ago.

I am indoors on renovation duty. We are aiming to have the gite ready to rent from April 2006. Ellie is nearly at the crawling stage which means my painting work will be a little more challenging.

Sophia has started singing in French. She prefers to watch her DVDs in French too. The same can't be said for her parent's linguistic ability.

January 2006

We received a clatter of emails from customers saying how much they enjoyed our wine. It lifted my spirits as renovation progress has slowed. The tasting room that we are aiming to have ready for the summer remains a ruin. I am struggling to find a roofer and a builder to do the necessary heavy work.

Our Department of Agriculture advisor came round to do one of the free consultations that we get for being ‘jeune agriculteurs’ (young farmers - we’re just the right side of 40 to earn the classification). She inspected Seán’s pruning, pronounced it ‘trés bonne’ (very good) and wanted to know where he had done his training. He didn’t own up to being self-taught on a few vines in a back garden in Dublin.

February 2006

We got our first confirmed booking for our 4-person gite (weekly rental holiday house) this morning. Now my finishing work must be complete by April… and I thought I had left the world of deadlines and pressure behind.

Part 2 to follow soon! In the meantime why not read the ABC articles under PRESS & GALLERY?

Chateau Haut Garrigue, Wild Earth Vineyards is 1 hr 30 drive from Bordeaux airport (direct flights from Ireland, UK, Paris etc) and 15 minutes by car from Bergerac airport (direct flights from the UK). The ferry ports are an 8-10 hour drive away.

We provide vineyard and winery tours to visitors and guests on request. We also offer organised Wine Lovers Getaways (for 4 adults or more) packed with wine-related activities. click the bolded text to find out more.