24 hours on a private wine tour

by Marco Monteiro-Silva, 1 July 2007

I looked over the carefully planned, week-long itinerary. French journalist, Anne-Claire would be covering all the Western Cape's famous estates for her contribution to GEO magazine's special 'wines of the world' edition.

Day four of her week-long itinerary kept catching my eye, promising a trip into a discrete and largely unknown wine region growing in popularity. Curiosity got the better of me, and I decided to drop in on Anne-Claire for a 24hour slice of her Go2Africa private wine tour.

Miserable morning

Leaving the last of the industrial buildings and office blocks behind me, I carved along the rocky mountain pass. The cold Cape Town morning had made sullen promises of a miserable day, but climbing over Sir Lowry's Pass I left behind the thick clouds and grey rain, and descended into a sunny blue day in Elgin - home to the Green Mountain Eco Route - the world's first biodiversity wine route.

The drive from Cape Town had only taken an hour, giving me a few minutes to spare before meeting up with Anne-Claire. A small roadside farm stall piqued my interest and I slammed on the brakes as I caved in to my curiosity.

Fast and furious u turns

Inside Peregrines I found home-made muffins, rows of fresh bed, baskets of apples and tables coloured with jams and preserves. Grabbing a warm muffin and a glass of home-made apple juice, I balanced my camera in my left hand as I gobbled and slurped with my right. I rushed out the store amidst fast photographs and awkward goodbyes, aimed at blushing check-out girls.

Time, for us city-people almost always takes the shape of an impatient mother, tapping her feet with her arms folded while she waits for us to come in for dinner. Time, I would soon discover, for the inhabitants of the Green Mountain Eco route took on a different meaning altogether.

The first time

I met up with Anne-Claire and private wine-guide, Wayne Donaldson on the De Rust Estate, home of Paul Cluver wines. After a chilly cellar tour we settled into chairs around a blazing fireplace in the tasting room as winemaker, Andries Burger poured the first of many wines. We relaxed around the fire, tasting various vintages, and sharing stories of the first time we ever tried wine.

Exploring the mountain

Leaving the warmth of the tasting room we huddled into a 4X4. We would be chauffeured in off-road style to the Oak Valley Estate, located over the Groenland Mountain and through the Kogelberg Nature Reserve.

The reserve is regarded as one of the most remarkable sites for plant life in the world (over 1600 species) and, consequently a UNESCO world heritage site.

Itchy Zebras and bobbing butcher birds

As we set off, I was completely unprepared for the view just outside the Cluver wine-tasting area. Cape Mountain Zebra and eland grazed in a field of long yellow grass. Behind them, gentle rolling waves of field and forest surfed the underbelly of a magnificent blue sky.

We sat for a few magical minutes entertained by the sight of a zebra, just a few metres away, scratching its itchy bottom on a small bush.

Climbing up the mountain, we passed through a herd of curly-haired Hereford cows and a pair of butcher birds darted alongside us, hoping to catch insects from the updraft the vehicle caused.

Stretching our legs on the mountain top, we briefly lost Anne-Claire as she darted off into a field of dead Protea flowers. Moments later she surfaced with flushed french cheeks and hands filled with scorched Protea flowers.

People in glass vineyards...

At Oak Valley, estate owner's Anthony and Madeleine invited us into their home. Sitting around their dining room table, winemaker Pieter Visser offered us an Oak Valley tasting.

As the afternoon unfolded, the Oak Valley wines were dissected and explained both critically and lovingly. Feeling a little out of my depth I sat back quietly and tried to focus on simpler pleasures, such as the superb lunch Madeleine had prepared for us.

Over lunch, I'm told of the ongoing battle between the Oak Valley workers and local troop of baboons. It turns out the local Baboons have developed quite a thing for pinot grapes, and the high mountain vineyards are now carefully patrolled.

Chucking stones was the first ever Pinot-stealing Baboon solution at Oak Valley, but this policy was quickly abandoned, when the Baboons started picking up those same stones, and throwing them straight back.

In the company of drifters

The late afternoon was spent at Compagnes Drift. Owner, Raoul Beaumont took us for a late afternoon drive around his estate.

Over 70 years old, Raoul is the proud owner of a wine farm, an extremely sharp wit, a Harley Davidson (his third, bought only two months ago), and a treasure chest of stories and memorable adventures (which in keeping with Raoul's style, I would soon discover, were adventures that are best described as Jack Sparrow-esque).

On our return, we're asked by Jane Beaumont to visit the old mill, where Andy is eagerly awaiting us. We stepped into the old watermill as if onto a theatre stage, as a man dressed in blue grease drenched overalls, danced around the mill.

"I love it when the mill comes to life!” Andy yelled, doing a little gypsy shuffle amidst grinding stone wheels and clouds of smoke and wheat flour.

A cross between a Mexican alchemist and a British diplomat, Andy showed us around the ancient mill -a labour of love that sees him spend all his free time on the estate.

Buccaneering Beaumonts and kidnapped catfish

Standing on the porch in front of the Beaumont's home, I looked out over the large dam surrounded by crippled willow trees and flowers. We listened to the calls of weaver birds as dusk turned to night.

While I stood transfixed on the porch, Axel Beaumont swaggered up to me, and introduced himself by sniffing my crotch. It turns out, this massive wolf-cross-husky suffered the misfortune of losing his manly-marbles in an infamous duel with a porcupine.

As I stroked Axle's silver-grey coat and looked out over the dam, daughter Ariane Beaumont introduced us to yet another family member; Hoover Beaumont- the nineteen year old catfish that lurks beneath the surface of the dam.

Hoover was adopted, in a lovingly kidnapped fashion, by Ariane and brother Sebastian (Beaumont's resident winemaker) some eighteen years ago. The pair of buccaneering Beaumonts smuggled him over the border on their return from a road-trip to Botswana. All Beaumonts, including pets and spouses, live on Compagnes Drift.

Hoovers invisible presence and Axels invisible testicles somehow seemed to sum up the almost tangible magic at play on the Compagnes Drift Estate.

Tattoos and wedding rings

As we stepped inside the main house, "Warm yourself!” bellowed from a chair next to the fire. "A cold French women is no good!” Raoul yelled at Anne-Claire passionately.

Thanks in part to warm, thick gulps of a potent 2004 Beaumont Mourvédre (a wine that in Raoul's own words "is inclined to kick you in the teeth if you're unprepared for it”), dinner quickly took on a warm familiarity.

Raoul and I compared tattoos while Ariane and I compared wedding rings. I probed for the real stories behind Raoul's expulsion from a prestiguous Cape Town high school, and a few years later, his ousting from the navy. The only confession I managed to elicit from Raoul was, "I was unfit for school...and unfit for the navy,” followed by a large ironic grin.

Porcupine quills and scorched Proteas

In the kitchen, while I surveyed a fridge covered in family photos, now convinced that Raoul was not only a descendant of Captain Jack Sparrow but also the half-brother of Hunter S. Thompson, Jayne offered Anne-Claire some of her decorative porcupine quills as a small gift.

We happily stumbled out of the Beaumont home at almost midnight. As Anne-Clair hugged Jayne goodbye, while clutching porcupine quills at her side, I watched Axel sniff at them curiously. I smiled and chuckled to myself drunkinly as I jumped into Wayne's van, as I wondered what Axel made of the encounter.

I dream of Jelly beans

At the guest house on the De Rust Estate, I shoved a pillow-chocolate into my mouth and tucked myself into bed, completely overwhelmed by the day's experiences.

Falling into a warm and wine-drenched sleep, I tried my best to ignore the jars of jelly beans and biltong sitting on a nearby table. The day had passed in a soft flurry, and with it my small but significant wine adventures had come to an end.

Self-conscious croissants and farewells

Over breakfast (Anne-Claire eyed me disapprovingly as she watched me stuff a fresh croissant with ham and cheese. Stuffing croissants with anything is apparently a very big no-no in France), Wayne put to rest the all-too common preconception, until now, I've had about private guided wine tours.”

"You don't have to be a connoisseur or even well versed in viniculture, to enjoy a private tour... It's more about your comfort levels,” Wayne said.

"A private tour guide for the winelands is completely flexible and are there to let you relax, as well as add value to your experience by sharing their knowledge and love of both wine and the winelands with you.”

Driving home

After breakfast, I waved goodbye to Wayne and Anne-Claire. On the drive home, I reflected on my private wine experience. I love wine, but even I had been expecting a slightly stuffy and sophisticated trip. I returned home with a totally different perception. The winelands is as much about the characters that inhabit its landscape as it is about wine, grapes and soil.

Perhaps the best measure of the experience lay in the fact that, driving back to Cape Town, I felt compelled to return to Elgin and discover a little more closely the characters that kick about its soil, living their lives to the beat of the seasons, in a world far removed from our office blocks, convenience meals and fast city-living

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