1996 - Fall - Forest Gimp and the Sawtooth Salamanders: Crush 1996 |
Jim, Robin, and I descended from a rapturous cross country backpacking trip in the Sawtooth Wilderness in Idaho, spirits brimming with red spires at dusk and black coffee at dawn, zinfandel-rosemary poached cutthroats and basil chive ramen. Parmesan. Amen. We crested ragged ridges and glissaded glossy glaciers. We plunged into ice floe lakes like men (and, um, emerged like boys). We embellished the truth and relished the legends and figured we weren't acting our ages. The wine was gone and it was time to go home.
Wary of the steep snow above Warbonnet Lake, we picked our way through an exposed rock outcropping at 9500 feet. I pivoted around a pink granite boulder about the size of a plump fifth grader, and I can remember admiring the smoky quartz crystals bristling from its flank. As I landed on the ledge below, I heard a deep croaking sound behind me, followed immediately by a white-out pain in my right ankle, followed in turn by a screeching ride to the brink of what can best be described as a "profoundly beautiful view." The boulder released its grip and tumbled awkwardly into space, skipping twice on rock shoulders before finally doing something unspeakable to a spruce tree far below. Robin pulled me back from the edge and Jim got us to safe rock below.
Wary of the steep snow above Warbonnet Lake, we picked our way through an exposed rock outcropping at 9500 feet. I pivoted around a pink granite boulder about the size of a plump fifth grader, and I can remember admiring the smoky quartz crystals bristling from its flank. As I landed on the ledge below, I heard a deep croaking sound behind me, followed immediately by a white-out pain in my right ankle, followed in turn by a screeching ride to the brink of what can best be described as a "profoundly beautiful view." The boulder released its grip and tumbled awkwardly into space, skipping twice on rock shoulders before finally doing something unspeakable to a spruce tree far below. Robin pulled me back from the edge and Jim got us to safe rock below.
This was not an opportune environment for a one-legged grasshopper. A lot of corny male bonding stuff and a little abrupt language ensued. Suffice to say that you can hike 7 miles on a crushed ankle if you carry the right trinkets in your pack, use a ski pole, walk with your friends, and refuse to stop.
I have learned many lessons from this experience, the most enduring being the demonstration that "special occasions" may be simply to make it safely home at night, to be able to walk up the stairs, to sit down with people you love, and receive a plate of good food. Any wine will do for these special occasions, but there's no sense hoarding the best for "later."
I also learned that Galileo was, indeed, a crazy heretic when he asserted that big rocks fall at the same rate as little rocks.
We started the harvest in 1996 with a cast and finished it with a limp, but I think the wine will stand tall. Merlot and Syrah look awesome. Come taste!
I have learned many lessons from this experience, the most enduring being the demonstration that "special occasions" may be simply to make it safely home at night, to be able to walk up the stairs, to sit down with people you love, and receive a plate of good food. Any wine will do for these special occasions, but there's no sense hoarding the best for "later."
I also learned that Galileo was, indeed, a crazy heretic when he asserted that big rocks fall at the same rate as little rocks.
We started the harvest in 1996 with a cast and finished it with a limp, but I think the wine will stand tall. Merlot and Syrah look awesome. Come taste!