Cannonball Run

---

There is nothing like wine to enable you to heights you never dreamed reachable. Whether its showing the world what a great singer you are, asking the prettiest girl in the room out for a date or helping you decide on a vacation destination a glass of wine (or two or three) can be the difference between action and stagnation. And so it was for Emily and I as we sat having dinner in late September of 2024.

It was a great dinner, lamb chops, mashed sweet potatoes and fordhook lima beans. For such a nice meal I was entrusted by Emily to select an appropriate wine. As she made up our plates and carried them into the dinning room I dug thru the wine closet looking for the perfect bottle. At the bottom of the closet along side several case boxes I saw a box with 'NO!' written in black magic marker. Not remembering what was in it I opened it to find 2 bottles of Reif Estates "Magician".

I immediately understood the exclamated warning on the box. Reif Estates is located in the Niagara wine region of Ontario Canada and is our favorite Canadian winery. Beyond the high quality of their wines there is a sentimental attraction to both the place and this particular wine for us, we discovered both in 2008 while there on our honeymoon. Over the years we had returned to the Niagara region many times, never failing to bring home a healthy supply of our favorite Canadian wine.

Walking into the dining room I broke the news.

"We only have one left after this one".

"Uh oh"

This was serious. Now in the big picture Canadian wine probably only constitutes 3 or 4% of what we drink over the course of a year. But the sentimental value of this particular wine ranks it very high whenever we have an "us" moment.

The timing could not be worse. We were 2 weeks from our anniversary week, during which it was a given we would drink that last bottle, and we only had a couple of days free during said anniversary week due to business commitments. That week in October is really our only annual opportunity to go to Niagara. I opened the wine and we started dinner realizing we couldn't go to Canada in 2 days, and 2 days was all we had open. And because they don't ship this wine to the United States we were looking at being out of one of our favorites, a sentimental go to, for over a year.

But as in daylight, there is clarity in wine. After 2 glasses of wine the answer was obvious, to me anyways. We only had 2 days, so we simply do it in 2 days. I pitched my idea to Emily. Her response was disappointing.

"You've lost your mind. Its a 9 hour drive each way. We can't do it in 2 days."

Over the next week I concocted a plan so perfect, with timing so precise that Emily would not be able to refuse. You see, I knew she wanted to go because she wanted the wine. My mission was to show her it could be done. The next week, just a week from D-Day, I pitched my plan over dinner. Two hours and 2 bottles of wine later I had her convinced that yes, we could do this. The mission was on.

On Tuesday morning we were up at 230am. With one small bag pre packed, we showered, dressed, fed the cats and were in the van by 320am rolling down the driveway. The gas tank was topped off, oil had been checked, air pressure in tires set and 2 huge coolers in the back. I popped the Eagles DVD into the player, turned the volume up until Emilys face cringed, backed it down a quarter of a turn and hauled ass towards Canada.

At 1215pm we arrived in the parking lot of Reif Estates. We were on schedule. Now I have never been a spiffy dresser and today was no exception. As I do most days I was in jeans and a cat t-shirt. Emily was similar although she had a nice top on. That, and the fact she can make a potato sack look good, certainly  made her the more presentable of the two of us. We stretched for a minute after getting out of the van, our almost 70 year old bodies sounding like a box of rice crispies. But only for a minute, we had a tight schedule. You see, in my infinite wisdom I had decided it didn't make sense to go all that way for 1 winery, we were going to hit 6 of them. By 5pm. We had 30 minutes in Reif. Not 31, we had 30. We walked into the tasting room and were greeted at the tasting bar by a friendly fellow in his early 30s. We had the typical introductory chat about where we were from, had we been there before etc.. A very nice guy. We asked to taste 3 wines. The first was the object of our mission, the Magician. It was incredible and exactly as we expected. Emily was beaming.

"We will take 2 of those please"

Our server poured us the next wine and excused himself to grab the Magician. As we were finishing our tasting of the Cab Franc he had just poured he arrived back with 2 bottles of Magician.

I laughed at Emilys reaction as he placed them on the counter. "I'm so sorry" Emily said to him. He slumped as if he thought we changed our minds about the Magician. "I should have been more clear, could we please get 2 cases". That perked him right back up and after pouring us our 3rd sample he spun around to get the wine.

"Can we get a case of this Cab Franc as well"?

By the time we finished we had 3 cases of wine and the satisfaction of knowing that anything else on the trip was the cherry on top. He graciously insisted on leaving the bar, retrieved a hand truck and pulled the wine out to our van. As I loaded those 3 cases into one of the large coolers he inquired. "Where are you guys headed next"? "Peller Estates" we replied. With that we shook hands, wished each other well and we headed towards Peller Estates. It was a 6 minute drive and we were 10 minutes ahead of schedule. My plan was coming together.

Now Emily and I have been to Peller Estates many, many times. Its a huge upscale building, for context to Virginia wine fans its similar to Early Mountain, but bigger. When you go in the front doors there is a huge atrium. Off to the left you pass thru some ornamental ironwork doors to the tasting bar/retail area. Its huge, well appointed and easy to get in and out of.

After parking I jumped out of the van, the stiffness in my bones now replaced by excitement. Emily was moving better than she had at Reif but was still moving very deliberately. I grabbed her by the arm and helped (dragged) her towards the front door. When we got inside we made a left turn to go into the tasting bar and were greeted by a sharply dressed gentleman in his 50s.

"Could I invite you up to our VIP lounge today"?

Now he didn't say 'VIP lounge', but I can't remember what he called it. But, here we were, dressed like we were going to Walmart, Emily still barely able to walk and this guy wants us to go upstairs to the swanky room. Of all the times we had been there we had never heard of, much less seen, the swanky room. And we were on a tight schedule...we only had 29 minutes left in this place.

"Well thank you sir, we appreciate that. But we just ran in to taste a few wines at the tasting bar".

For whatever reason, this fellow was insistent...but in such a damn polite way.

"No problem sir, you can taste anything upstairs, including offerings the tasting bar does not have. Let me show you the way".

I can clearly see into the tasting room and see that its open and people are in there tasting wine. Maybe it was how we were dressed? Was he taking us to the room of misfit wine drinkers? Now I have seen enough horror movies to know where this was going. And I can tell you that if there had been as much as a single crack of thunder I would have slung Emily over my shoulder and ran for the car. But there are times in my life where I hear my Dads voice in my head. And today he was telling me to show appreciation and accept a kind offer. Even if I couldn't understand the motivation for it. 

So, off we went, looking like a couple of hicks in town for their once a year visit (Sadly a spot on description) following this fellow up a rather impressive wooden staircase. I prayed the whole time he would say "walk this way", my inner Marty Feldman was itching to come out. We arrived at a very ornate, large wooden door, he swung it open to a spacious lounge with leather upholstered chairs, nice tables and an impressive sit down bar on the right. Our friend wished us a good time and closed the door as he left. The place was maybe 1/4th full, and every single person was well dressed. I dont mean well dressed as in wearing their best cat tshirt and jeans with no holes, I mean business casual and up. We could have sat anywhere, but I led Emily to the bar where we sat down. The bar, behind the bar, the walls were all covered in ornate wood. There was brass hardware. All the glassware was crystal. There were 3 people working the room, 2 ladies out on the floor and a gentleman behind the bar. The man comes over and welcomes us and asks what we would like.

"Actually we just stopped by for a quick tasting, would that be possible"?

"Absolutely!" And he spun off and headed down the bar.

I'm sitting there trying to figure out what's going on. I look at Emily and can see she is doing the same. Back comes the barman with 2 flutes and a bottle of bubbly. As he pours us, not a taste of wine but a glass of wine, he describes it in detail. After pouring he is off again.

My mind was racing. Without even turning my head, I'm just looking at the bubbly in front of me, I asked Emily "What the hell is going on?" The only response I got was her making "yummy" sounds. I'm thinking if this is a cannibal cult and we were invited up to be dinner they are going to be making yummy sound too.

As we drink our sparkling we see people come and go, they are buying wine. A guy a few chairs down from us bought 4 cases. They are definitely doing a brisk business. As I take my last swallow of sparkling it hits me like a thunderclap. I almost sprayed it as I am overwhelmed with laughter. Emily looks at me, now looking embarrassed to be sitting beside me. (too late for that now chick, you should have thought about that before you came in this place with a country bumpkin wearing a cat t-shirt)

"Emily, the guy at Reif called his buddy here at Peller and told him he was sending over a couple of stupid Americans who just bought 3 cases. The guy in the lobby was waiting for a hick in a cat t-shirt".

Emily giggles. I love that giggle.

Suddenly it all made sense. Not a case of mistaken identity where there was a legit billionaire traveling in the area wearing a cat t-shirt, not a cannibal cult. Just some good old fashioned business acumen. I could appreciate that.

What followed was a great tasting. We enjoyed ourselves tremendously. I'm sure they were disappointed when we only bought 6 bottles but you would never have known it. The were both friendly and gracious. We walked out having had a wonderful wine experience, and despite the fact we had used up that spare10 minutes that we were ahead of schedule we did leave on time.

And so it went. Stratus Vineyards, Caroline Cellars, Big Head Winery and Inniskillen. Upon wrapping it up for the day we headed for our hotel with 6 cases of wine and the knowledge that we may be old, but we were still young enough to have an adventure. 

We checked into the Hilton Fallsview, popped the cork on a bottle of Chateau MerrillAnne Chat Petillant, ordered room service and enjoyed the wine and the Niagara Falls light show. Up at 4:15AM Wednesday morning we checked out and were in the car at 4:47AM. We turned onto our familiar, pot hole filled drive at 1:30PM completing a ridiculous, totally non sensible, 34 hour and 10 minute adventure that netted us a great time, 6 cases of wine and fond memories for a lifetime. We had concocted a ridiculous plan more suited to serial traveling, twenty year old vagabonds than the late sixties homebodies that we are. And despite the fact I needed a crow bar to get Emily out of the car when we got home she still talks fondly of our Cannonball Run. 

The grind of winery life is not just unrelenting, but rarely understood by those outside the industry. Sure, they know its hard work but most see a rose colored scenario of sampling wine and endless wine blending. Their minds see a Hallmark movie-like vision of the winery owner sitting on a veranda overlooking the vineyard while drinking wine and sketching label ideas on a napkin as vineyard workers happily whistle while working and birds chirp overhead. We could only wish. As it turned out this job is not like "Falcon Crest", that show lied. The truth is it's a 7 day a week grind of every menial job associated with running a combined agriculture, manufacturing, hospitality, marketing and retail business. Cutting grass, washing glasses, running ads, hauling wine too and from bottler, serving customers, trimming vines, sweeping floors, planning events...the list could go on forever. Washing stuff alone is a full-time job. The ultimate proof of Darwinism will be vintners growing webbed feet.

Just when you feel you are at the breaking point there comes a respite. A three month window where you get weekends off. With the tasting room open by appointment only for December, January and February these are our first weekend days off in over 9 months. The anticipation of that first Saturday off begins in April. Every long, hot, miserable day is bolstered by the thought of that sacred Saturday. 

Every detail of that first Saturday will be planned out. EVERY. SINGLE. DETAIL. You see, we plan this day for 9 months. Nothing is left to chance, it's our first weekend day off in over 9 months. It will be a great, relaxing day.
 

Sunday will be a different story. With all the year long focus on the first Saturday poor Sunday will be under appreciated, totally unplanned and left to chance. Based on previous years this crap shoot of a day will go down like this. I will try to sleep in, after about an hour of nagging me to get up Emily will finally resort to the "Turn the fans on him full blast, grab the bed covers and run like hell" gambit. Covered in chill bumps and looking like a freshly plucked chicken I will get up, if only out of self preservation. As I shower and get dressed I plot my revenge. Arriving in the kitchen Emily is sitting at the table, reading a book, flanked on either side by a cat and giving me her look of innocence. Being a sucker for a pretty face I give her a pass on her sheet stealing "snatch and run". At that point we will begin that long process known by some as "Deciding what to have for breakfast". With no meeting of the minds this negotiation will eventually morph into the dreaded "Deciding what to have for lunch" process. Finally, in the early afternoon, lunch is completed.
   Now, with the fate of the entire day hanging in the balance an incredibly complicated and precisely choreographed process, a process usually reserved for international fishing rights negotiations, begins. It goes something like this. I will say 'what do you want to do today?'. Emilys response will be 'I don't know, what do YOU want to do?'. This give and take will repeat itself, in various forms, non stop for approximately 4 hours. At that point we will decide it's too late to do anything so we will decide to make dinner. The "deciding what to have for dinner" negotiation follows a similar path as both the breakfast and lunch varieties, but with the extra twist of "what wine would you want with that?". By the time dinner is agreed upon, prepared, eaten and cleaned up it is now 9pm. Now, after a rough day of 11 hours of totally fruitless negotiations we get situated in our favorite and customary TV watching positions and turn on the tellie. I look at Emily, she looks at me, and with that beautiful smile she says... 'So what do you want to watch?'