This is a reanimation of the Vicaribus blog as lived by Miro Kazakoff and Ehren Foss in 2004 and 2005. The photos may be spotty.

Wine Country

Posted by ehren

In the morining I sought internet and Miro made a trip to Wal Mart to buy chairs and other sundries. We fulfilled our communication needs by 1:30, ate another lunch of hot dogs and other available materials, and started driving up Napa Valley.

We arrived at the Robert Mondavi winery around 2:30. One of the larger, factoryesque wineries in the area it trades quality for mass production, and atmosphere for a certain public accessibility. I know very little about wine, and don't have a refined palatte, so I've always thought that such a visit would be a waste. The tour, though, was educational for a beginner, and at the end they provided a tasting of three wines. The first was a white wine, which to me tasted like most other white wines. The middle wine was some kind of red, and it smelled pungent but the taste was weak in comparison. The third wine also smelled strongly, but had a bit more taste. A sommellier I ain't. Along with a significant segment of the population I find all the fuss about wine to be overblown and a bit fake, more about the aesthetics of the experience and the ritual of exclusive expertise as an indicator or wealth, power, or sophistication. So I couldn't resist, and wrote down the responses I should have offered to the wines if I were quicker:

• This is a rather flatulent wine. There are hints of mayonnaise and Cracker Jack sweepings, and the bouquet bears an uncanny resemblance to late season turpentine or other underboiled mineral spirits. The tannins are combative but inexpertly trained.
• I cannot help but think of the circus. The color, and aroma are festive, but the texture is clowny and the aftertaste gives a certain "freak show" melancholy to the taste.
• Ooh, a promiscuous, or even slutty merlot. The color reminds one of tart cherry lipstick, or a district of red lights. It's almost as if this wine -- yes yes, coming through more clearly now -- has raised the hem of its skirt to attract a John. Why if I had my druthers and met this wine in a bar, I would buy her a drink. Of wine! Bwah ha ha ha I'm so pompous and clever.

At the conclusion of the tour, Miro and I got on our bikes to tour around the valley. Two roads skirt the facing banks of hills, so I biked from the Mondavi compound on Cal-29 to the Silverado Trail via Oakville Cross Road, and then along the Silverado to Pope Street in St. Helena, including a detour up Sage Canyon Rd. to scope out overnight parking spots. The leg south on 29 was slightly downhill and heavily downwind. 15 miles total, or so. Miro took a similar route, but payed closer attention to parking near St. Helena. We seem to have found the tiniest of industrial areas in that city, and in talking to a couple guys who were scoping out the bus received permission to either park in their company lot (and leave at 7:30 am) or use them as an excuse if the Police were to show up; That we were waiting for the brake shop to open.

It's now 11, and since then the cops did visit, and I did fail to attempt to lie to them about staying overnight, so we undertook an unexpectedly exciting drive into the valley to the east over some thin and pretzeled roads. It is dark dark dark except for the stars and there are crickets everywhere.