"La cosecha".
The grape harvest begins at Pucarilla.
Gualfín, Calchaqui Valley, Salta Province, Argentina.
March 15th, 2024.
Dear Reader,
In case you were wondering, as I know at least one of my dear readers was, the orange tractor which I referred to in my last letter as “new”, is only new to our farm. It’s used. And I was mistaken about it needing a new engine. It didn’t. Another one of our tractors needed the engine.
We went all the way to Concepción last Saturday because parts are hard to get in Argentina. You find them where you can.
Adrien communicates at length with our mechanic and tractoristas about farm equipment related matters. I don’t ask too many questions and assume they all know what they are doing. And mostly they do.
Up in Gualfín, there was a terrific thunderstorm last night. We sat on the front porch looking out at the lightening and listening to the claps of thunder.
We’d driven up the night before. The farm truck had been down at La Arcadia because our mechanic had used it after his broke down. So Adrien would drive that one, and I’d drive his.
The cosecha - the grape harvest - in Angastaco was finishing up, and Adrien wanted to do an asado lunch for the workers. Then, he needed to talk to the onion buyer who was trying to lower the prices of the bags of onions. And then the socios, sharecroppers, wanted to talk to Adrien.
So he suggested I go ahead to Molinos and wait for him at the Hacienda. I could sit outside and have a glass of wine, rather than waiting around at the galpón. Ramona and I set off, and sat down at a table in the courtyard by the great molle, pepper tree.
Starved, I ordered two cheese empanadas, and a steak which I asked them to hold in case Adrien got there in time to eat with me.
The manager of the hotel was there. We knew each other vaguely. He came over to say hello, and I invited him to sit down. We talked about my parents, how they were doing and where they were, about the various people from the Valley, the rain and the height of the river, the cosecha. He was a pleasant conversationalist, and the time passed. I was beginning to think that maybe I should go ahead with my dinner.
Just then, Adrien showed up!
I asked the waiter to bring the steak. The meal was delicious - a steak with Malbec sauce, potato purée and a salad of fresh greens.
Afterwards, I thought longingly that it would be wonderful to sink into bed right now. I mentioned this to Adrien, knowing that there were some rooms available at the hotel…
But, he wanted to get to Gualfín. The cosecha was starting at 8am and all hands were needed. He’d be cosechando along with our crew of seven or so workers which included the teenage sons of two of our employees, and the brother of our capataz.
So, I took the wheel in Adrien’s truck and he got in the farm truck. I would follow him up. It turned out that the main road was impassable so we had to take the river bed. It was night, and I was caught in what felt like a smoke machine. Despite the heavy rain which had messed up the roads, it was dry now and the sand flew up behind Adrien’s wheels, blinding me at some points.
I periodically stopped and hung back so as not to be in the wake of the dust, but it didn’t help much. We drove along the river bed for what felt like an eternity. I was afraid my eyes might betray me. Ramona nestled into my lap. We were both sleepy. Then, Adrien flashed his lights and stopped. I stopped too. He got out.
“Think I missed the turn. We’ll need to back up”, he said.
Oh brother, I thought. I’m not sure how much longer I can last. But, onwards we must go. Adrien got back in the truck and reversed past me. I did the same, regaining my place behind him.
This time, noticing a road forking off to the right of the river bed, we took it and met up with the main road. From there we rumbled on. Eventually we caught a glimpse of the sala. We weren’t far now.
As usual, once we’d parked and unloaded, we had to put the perishables away. I just hoped the water would be hot. It was. I took a piping hot shower and dissolved into my bed.
In the morning, I discovered that in our hurry to get up here, we’d forgotten to pick up water. The tap water comes out slightly brown. Our housekeeper Marta assured me she would boil it. But I knew that the unappetizing brown colour would be there still. And I just couldn’t.
“The people from here all drink it”, said our employee Sergio. Be that as it may, I think I’ll stick to tea, coffee and beer for the next few days.
This morning Adrien and I rose early, and headed for the vineyard together with three of the workers. Leading the way was our man Pablo, with a car full of employees.
Behind us was our foreman.
The fellows are working fast. They need to pick 6,000 kilos of grapes by Saturday night, so Don Yeye (AKA our winemaker Raúl Davalós), can fill the tank.
These grapes will make the nectar which is our Tacana Malbec.
Here’s a glimpse of the vineyard, Pucarilla.
Plastic bottles filled with sugar water are placed at the end of the vines to attract bees, ants, and other pesky insects which like to feast on the leaves and grapes.
To learn more about our wine, and the Bonner Private Wine Club, visit our website here.
More to come.
Cheers!
Mariah
P.S. My latest “Voice from the Valley” video features a zamba, which is a song typical to the Salta region. It’s called Zamba para olvidarte - Zamba to forget you. Watch it here.
Mariah, I love your updates. And sometimes, as you noted, we don't know how we can keep going, but we really have no other choice, so we do.
As for the water, I would recommend a good water filter that is good for a few hundred, or even a few thousand gallons. Shouldn't cost you more than $100, plus delivery, and and not having to carry and remember!) water jugs would be a big plus.
Those vines look very healthy, do you fertilize much? I know how dusty and rough dirt roads can be both on the person and the vehicle. I grew up on a farm/ranch in Montana, about ten miles of dirt road before pavement.