Oregon Wines and Vineyards

by Ellen Teicher

Oregon wines, particularly pinot noirs, have gained a following in recent years far beyond the Northwest. This was not the case when the first pioneering winemakers in this region, recognizing the similarities between the geography here and that of Burgundy in France, took the first leap, investing money, buying land, planting vineyards, nursing those vineyards through the nuances of weather and temperature, and then barreled and bottled and finally marketed their wines.

Every piece of land has its unique qualities because of such influences as soil content, slope, nearby mountains, temperature and rainfall, how the fog rolls in and the sun hits. All of these geographic variables, known in the wine world as the “terroir,” affect the grapes grown on any given piece of land and ultimately the personality of the final product—the wine.

Equally important, however, is the intimate relationship that exists between the winemaker and his/her land and grapes. Each winemaker, uniquely blending science and art, attempts to create a complex and true to type product. Because of the land and the people, from vineyard to vineyard, no two wines are the same.

We at Open Spaces wanted to get to know and share with you a few of these passionate pioneers, confident in their discerning palates and willing to take a chance, who became the personalities, or “human terroir,” behind some of Oregon's noteworthy wines

Bergstrom Winery

About ten years ago, Dr. John Bergstrom began thinking about his future retirement. He had fond memories of his childhood growing up on a small sustainable farm in Sweden and wondered if he could duplicate that experience. Fortuitously, a desirable piece of property became available in the Red Hills of Dundee. After purchasing this property and while contemplating his next step, he was approached by neighboring winemakers about planting a vineyard for their use. And with that came Dr. Bergstom's “Aha!” moment. He called his son Josh, then a student and business major at the University of Oregon, asking if he would like to join him in starting their own winery. Having not yet firmed up his own future plans, Josh went out and bought a bottle of wine and while drinking it at home, thought “why not?”

While this might sound glib, do not mistake the Bergstrom approach to their new endeavor as anything but extremely serious. Over the next year, weekends were often spent with John driving to Eugene to pick up Josh, then driving all night to attend workshops on winemaking at UC Davis, to return Monday morning for Josh's college classes and John's medical practice. During these late night drives, they often wondered if they were crazy, but they were also very excited. They began reading and talking to other winemakers to learn everything they could. Josh began working at other local wineries and, having attended grade school at the French American school and being fluent in French, Josh became an apprentice at a winery in the Burgundy region of France to gain hands on skills and develop his palate. And with that began the now retired Dr. Bergstom's second career and his son's first.

Upon meeting this affable father and boyish 32 year old son at the Bergstrom Winery, such first impressions quickly become secondary to the passion, knowledge and expertise that each exhibits. Now in their 8th year of bottling Pinot Noir, Chardonnay and Riesling, besides the quality of their wines, they pride themselves on what is unique to their winery: they have been certified by the international agency for biodynamically farming their 31 acres of vineyards. To be “organic” means not harming the soil by using insecticides, pesticides or herbicides. The more holistic “biodynamic” approach, according to Josh, replenishes the soil by the use of compost and plant materials such as botanical teas and stinging nettle to create biodiversity and better soil structures. He continues that biodynamics is the oldest form of organic farming practiced more commonly in Europe where because there is less land which has already been farmed for generations there has historically been more need to routinely replenish soil.

While Josh is the principal winemaker and critical taster, John, with his medical background, is in charge of quality control, continually checking for contaminants of any kind that could impact the final product. He tests the facilities for cleanliness and does microscopic evaluations and chemical analyses of the wine. “You can't make good wine from bad grapes,” John says, “but you can make bad wine from good grapes.” Josh chimes in, “it's all about microbiology; wine is only one step away from vinegar at all times.” And Josh adds, “the press has recently touted the health benefits of wine while ignoring the fact that any trace amount of chemicals in the fruit could instead make the product bad for you.”

Winemaking is one of the most integrated industries, according to John, because you are involved in the complete cycle: “You take care of the land, plant the grapes, take care of the plants, harvest, make the wine, bottle it, market it.” Josh acknowledges that although the process is exciting, it's all very stressful. “And then we receive letters and calls from customers telling us they just opened a Bergstrom wine they'd been holding for a few years and how much they enjoyed it.” John and Josh smile at each other. Proud father, respectful son, they're in this together.

Lange Winery

One might think that Don and Wendy Lange were on an unlikely path to become well-known winemakers in Oregon. In 1971, Don received an MFA in poetry writing at the University of Iowa, but realized he was directing his talent more toward songwriting than to poems. The trend, he said, at the time was for Midwest folksingers to move to L.A. It took an Iowa snowstorm in May for him to do the same. The year was 1978. Since he wasn't an L.A. kind of guy, he moved instead to Santa Barbara which also happened to be a center for California winemaking. He did have some knowledge of winemaking since he'd been making his own in Iowa, so along with his nighttime music gigs, he got a day job at a local California winery. He basically went from one to the other, sleeping as his wife Wendy drove him from music job to the winery where she also worked.

At the same time they began slowly filling the carport of their home with barrels of their own homemade wine. They realized it was getting out of hand when they no longer had room to park their cars and so it was time to make some kind of decision about their winemaking. They already considered pinots to be the holy grail of wines and although California had the reputation for its New World version, to them it wasn't quite right. Then, in 1987, Don happened to purchase off the bottom shelf of a wine store two bottles of Oregon Pinot Noir, a 1979 Erath and 1980 Eyrie. He and Wendy immediately knew “these wines were idiomatically correct, our palates told us so.”

Within three weeks Don and Wendy were on a plane to Oregon excited to check out the wine scene. After drinking that Erath in California, Don had called the winery and was surprised to actually get the owner on the line, so he was not surprised to find the wine people here to be friendly and welcoming in addition to be doing exciting things with wine. And the geography of the Dundee Hills was just right for those pinots. They purchased property and by applying the knowledge they'd gained from working in wineries, making their own wines, and networking with the Oregon pioneer winemakers, began their own operation. The first Lange bottling in 1987 was made from fruit purchased from other local vineyards. In 1988 Lange won awards for its pioneering barrel fermented Pinot Gris. Their first year they bottled 1000 cases; twenty years later, they bottle 20,000 of Pinot Noir, Pinot Gris and Chardonnay.

Wendy recalls the early years when before being able to sell the Lange label, she first had to sell the idea of Oregon wines. People “looked askance” at Oregon wines and winemakers. “They didn't take us seriously. Until the mid-90s, they thought we were nuts.” We are sitting on the patio of Lange Winery, talking with Don and Wendy surrounded by their three dogs. He seems so laid back, his phrases typically punctuated with a laugh and a smile. I asked him about that winning Pinot Gris, which is usually made in stainless steel. He said he felt that there was enough complexity in a Gris to handle barrel fermenting; he was curious, so he tried it and it worked. So offhand. And yet there is no question that this wine business is serious business.

In the early days, the Langes did everything themselves. Wendy did wine tastings in the basement of their house, and they both took turns on the tractor. Although they now have a crew, they are still out in the vineyards every day. “There are no breaks,” Don says. “In the winter you're reflecting on the past year and planning for the next. It's always something.” He laughs as he recalls having said, “we'll get the winery and vineyard up and running, then I'll go back out and play [music].” He still does, at the end of the day, go home and play his guitar a little bit.

“You know actually it's like having three different businesses. It's a complicated endeavor,” Don says. And Wendy agrees. There's farming, and production, and marketing, and selling, both wholesale and retail. “It's complex and demanding.” Don adds that in the early days it was very tough, causing lots of anxiety. I asked if that wasn't true still, every year. He agreed with this qualification, “It's as stressful as you let it be.”

His music helps.

As does his son Jesse, who has now joined the Lange operation as winemaker and general manager after training at wineries in Santa Barbara and New Zealand, in addition to having grown up in the midst of it all.

Recently, Don appeared playing his own music at the Sister's Folk Festival.

With a bit of the ex-hippie shining through, he says, “winemakers are supposed to be colorful.” Any regrets? “It's a good life, no question.”

Stag Hollow Winery

It is late afternoon as we approach Stag Hollow Winery in Yamhill, a 34 acre estate, ten acres of which have been set aside as a wildlife preserve. We are met at the end of a long driveway by a tall, graceful woman with flowing dark red hair. Jill Zarnowitz, co-owner of Stag Hollow with her husband Mark Huff, leads us to a bench where we sit in the afternoon sun amidst their vineyards.

Jill tells us that while living in Southwest Washington some years ago she and her husband began making their own wines for themselves and for friends, first by purchasing juice from California and later by purchasing grapes in Oregon. Having received positive feedback from friends and “as we got more and more into winemaking,” Jill says they began to think about a commercial endeavor. Since they were picking grapes from other vineyards, however, they didn't feel they had adequate control of the process. Limited by being told exactly when to pick and where to pick, it became clear that it was time for them to plant their own grapes.

As they began to look for land, neighbors of this then for sale property suggested they come look. Jill says that they immediately knew that this was a “special place” that “felt just right.” And she adds, “we got in at the right time.” That was the late ‘80s.

“It's our tenth anniversary,” Jill says. She explains that they first planted in 1989 and that although their first vintage was 1994, it wasn't available for purchase until 1996. They currently bottle Pinot Noir, Chardonnay, Dolcetto, which is an Italian medium bodied dry red, and Muscat, which they tried sweet but prefer dry.

“Our wines are not straightforward,” Jill says, as she explains their approach to Pinot Noir. In their vineyards, they have twelve different clones of pinot noir grapes, clones that were either found or developed in France. Each adds a different flavor and aroma, and when making their wines, Jill and Mark create their own mixtures, thus creating a unique Stag Hollow wine. And as they try different combinations, they continually create new variations or flavors. For them there is a mystique about creating such complex flavors from this age old process of fermenting fruit.

Because Stag Hollow is a small winery and equipment is so expensive, they do not make their wines onsite. Instead, they coordinate with other small wineries and share space for the winemaking process at Eola Hills. Still, it is completely hands on as they arrive with their already crushed grapes to select the barrels and follow the dictates of their palates.

Jill and Mark's considerable efforts to be good stewards of their property include dry land farming of the vineyard, re-establishing the riparian zone along one branch of Hawn Creek and maintaining a large riparian zone of mature Douglas-fir, Oregon oak and mixed hardwood forest along the other branch, including an Oregon ash wetland. They have applied for an alternate reservoir water right to maintain this wetland. They also keep a cover crop between vineyard rows and use low input viticultural techniques.

Jill confirms that having a commercial winery is “a lot of hard work,” especially since she and her husband continue to work at other day jobs. The rest of their time, early in the morning, in the evening, on weekends, is spent on the winery. But they are passionate about what they do. Jill explains, “It is an agricultural art form, a personal expression of the glory of flavors and aromas that comes from melding grape growing with the environment, and then adding the human touch to make it into, quite simply, wine.”

As our conversation comes to a close, we follow Jill up the winding road through their vineyards to their house which sits on top of a hill with a sweeping view of the surrounding land and hills. It is beautiful and peaceful and one can only imagine that to be living amidst such a breathtaking setting makes all of the hard work worth it.

Abbey Ridge Vineyard/Cameron Winery

While at Whitman College in the early ‘70s, Bill Wayne would hire on to work at the nearby wheat ranches and found he loved the agricultural process and being in the out of doors. He was realistic enough to know that one doesn't just start a wheat ranch so as he contemplated his future he tried to figure out what kind of smaller scale agricultural operation would be feasible. A friend working in a Napa winery suggested a vineyard.

We are sitting in the Wayne's kitchen speaking with Bill's wife, Julia, as she recounts their journey into the world of winemaking. After meeting in college, they traveled home to California to get married. Being intrigued now by the idea of having a vineyard, they spoke to a variety of people in the business while they were there. The California drawback, however, was that the wineries were so large. Still, Bill signed up for classes in viticulture at UC Davis as his specific interest was to grow grapes, not to make wine.

While at UC Davis, and still disillusioned with the California winemaking scene, Bill heard about some pioneers in winemaking up in Oregon. He called them up; they were receptive and welcoming so the Waynes paid a visit and found what they were looking for.

The Waynes moved to Oregon wine country in the Dundee hills in 1975. They began doing whatever odd jobs they could get, for Bill most specifically in agriculture. At the same time, they took cuttings from David Lett's Eyrie Vineyard and planted them on a friend's property. At that time, Lett was Oregon's primo winemaker, and the Wayne's goal was to buy some property and grow grapes good enough for David Lett.

Soon, the Wayne's found just the right property for their vineyard on a hill in Dundee with south/southwest exposure. They purchased about 50 acres and a trailer to live in. Friends came out for a weekend planting party. The year was 1976. Their first harvest, four years later, was small and not of commercial quality. Julia remembers, “We had been so busy and were so tired for such a small initial reward.” She adds that new grapes lack character and that it takes about eight years for the flavor to mature. Eventually they did have a product worthy of David Lett and he did buy their grapes, which she admits was “a major coup.”

In the meantime, John Paul, a Berkeley marine biologist disillusioned with academia, entered the picture. He began using his science background at Oregon wineries and became friends with the Waynes, a friendship that continued even as Paul left to hone his winemaking skills in California and New Zealand. When he and his wife returned to Oregon, the friendship evolved along with the “pipe dream.” Jean Paul's expertise was winemaking, the perfect complement to the Wayne's grape growing. Add to the mix their friendship with another couple, Mark, who was a builder, and his wife.

The three couples sat down, according to Julia, to talk about what they really wanted and “to do some soul searching.” Bill wanted to grow grapes, John wanted to make wine and Mark wanted to build a winery. They each had discrete preferences, no overlap. They all wanted to stay small, maintain control in their area of expertise, and produce a handmade product. A perfect combination; everything was falling into place. Abbey Ridge was the name of the vineyard, and they selected Cameron to be the name of the winery. In 1984, the first Cameron wine appeared. It was not easy, however. Julia recalls that 1984 was a cold rainy year, certainly not ideal for grape growing. That first vintage was made in a cold Quonset hut as they tried to keep the fermenting wine warm by surrounding it with a small hand made heated box.

That was a long time ago. Julia reminisces how little they knew back then when first arriving in Oregon with the romantic notion of having “a little house and little vineyard.” But, she adds, “we had so much energy to start a project.” They were young, idealistic, and naïve, but determined. They would have friends come to help plant and then realize the planting had been done wrong and they had to redo it. They bought the wrong tractor and had to replace it. They had to learn how to keep birds and elk away from the plants. In those early years, they did everything themselves and she laughs that they didn't even know how to hire help. “We were so tired and so busy.”

But what she especially remembers about that time, the early years of Oregon winemaking, was the positive and welcoming atmosphere, the implied message “come join us in this grand experiment.” Everyone started on a shoestring, land was inexpensive, knowledge was shared, materials offered—“I've got some extra wire, take it”--, encouragement was plentiful. Friendships developed and bonds were created. This was community.