Pinot Goes Coastal Hot vineyards by the sea

Pinot Noir producers have always gone to extremes in search of location, location, location. No wine grape is more demanding. Chardonnay and Cabernet Sauvignon can produce excellent wines just about anywhere, but the fickle Pinot requires specialized combinations of soil and climate to give the kind of wine that turns consumers into devotees.

The latest Pinot hot spot is extreme indeed: on the western edge of North America. During the last few years a veritable who’s who of high-profile California wine producers has taken to planting vineyards with ocean views on high coastal ridges in western Sonoma County.

Caymus, Peter Michael, Kistler, La Jota, Kendall-Jackson and Pahlmeyer have planted vineyards on the Sonoma coast or purchased land with that intention. They join a handful of established grape growers--David Hirsch and Helen Turley, among others--and two estate wineries, Flowers (whose vineyard is called Camp Meeting Ridge) and Wild Hog. Wineries already producing Pinot Noirs from far coastal vineyards include Kistler, Williams-Selyem, Siduri, Littorai and Hartford Court, among others.

Like the cult Napa Valley Cabernets, these coastal Pinot Noirs are keenly pursued by wine lovers and collectors, who willingly park their names on waiting lists for several years in the hope of being allowed to pay $50 or more for one or two bottles.

So far, two enclaves of extreme coastal vineyards have developed north and south of the Russian River, roughly equidistant from the stream. They are different in some ways, but they share the advantages of being close to the ocean yet elevated above the fog. Directions to both areas are basically the same: drive west along the Russian River until you see big surf. Go along the beach until you see a road going straight up into the fog. Climb until you emerge from the gloom into a land of sunny ridges and oak and redwood forest. Keep an eye out for grape vines.

Imagine standing in a vineyard and looking down to see surf breaking on beaches and offshore rocks, then turning around slowly to see the misty silhouettes of Bodega Head and, farther south, Point Reyes. Keep turning, looking east and northeast, and the significant peaks of the inner coast ranges come into view: Mt. Tamalpais in Marin County; Sonoma Mountain, marking mid-Sonoma Valley; Mt. St. Helena, at the head of the Napa Valley; and Cobb Mountain in Lake County.

“On a clear day,” says Walt Flowers, the vineyard’s owner, “we can see the Farallon Islands [off San Francisco].”

This spectacular vineyard is the second major planting by Flowers and his wife, Joan, in this remote area, which was covered with redwoods and Douglas firs within living memory. The first, where their house and winery are located, was founded eight years ago and is already one of the brightest stars in the new constellation of vineyards on the edge.

The Flowerses were operating a nursery and landscaping business in Bucks County, Pa., when they began visiting California in 1981. They were looking for vineyard land but were in no hurry. “We spent a lot of time in the Napa Valley, but didn’t see anything we liked,” Walt told me. “Then one day we ventured over the hill to Sonoma and said, this is more what we’re used to from a farming aspect.”

In 1989 they saw a western Sonoma County property called Camp Meeting Ridge advertised in a magazine. They bought it in 1990 and started planting the next year. Kistler Vineyards bought most of their first few crops, and they also custom-crushed the first three Flowers vintages, ’94 through ‘96, at Kistler. Last April, the ’96 Flowers Camp Meeting Ridge Pinot Noir was served at the NATO 50th anniversary dinner at the White House.

Camp Meeting Ridge is a little farther from the ocean than the newer ridge-top planting. It’s a little lower, a little more protected than the new planting, but it plays on the same effects: Elevated above the fog line, it basks in the sun through long, bright days while the cold wind and fog from the nearby ocean temper the heat. In their balance between heat and marine influence, these and other coastal locations approximate the kind of marginal climates at higher latitudes where Pinot Noir gives its best wines.

The Flowerses’ own winery, built into the steep side of the ridge overlooking the Gualala River, was ready in time for the ’97 crush. It was designed by Flowers winemaker and general manager Greg LaFollette, a former Kendall-Jackson vineyard specialist.

LaFollette built the facility of his winemaking dreams, with plenty of what he calls nerdy touches. The jacketed stainless-steel fermentation tanks, in several sizes, are just the right heights for draining into barrels or presses; they are individually wired and computerized for precise temperature control of both juice and cap. The barrel room is basically a big refrigerator with an automated misting system to regulate humidity, and the lab is fully equipped for research and experimentation. The winery feels a little like a walk-in machine.

Paradoxically, the object of all that science is a traditional low-tech winemaking regime: native yeasts, gravity flow, long lees contact and generally minimal intervention. LaFollette describes his winemaking philosophy in expansive Californianese: “We’re a green winery,” he said as we toured the spotless, humming facility. “We’re living with the yeast, working in a partnership and a dialogue with the grapes.”

From the Flowers winery, grower David Hirsch’s dramatically situated vineyard can be seen across the deep Gualala River canyon. One of the golden eagles soaring overhead can be directly over both vineyards on a single turn, yet they’re a good 45 minutes apart by car.

Hirsch is the kind of viticultural entrepreneur one increasingly encounters in cutting-edge wine regions from Coonawarra to Burgundy: people who were successful in business back in the world, then saw the light in a glass of great wine and decided to strike out into terra incognita with the intention of growing fine wine grapes. California’s coastal mountains and valleys are full of such viticultural visionaries, yet seldom have they found their way to terra that’s as incognita as the Sonoma coast.

Throughout the growing season, Hirsch battles nature to produce a crop of grapes that wineries snap up at more than $3,000 per ton, more than twice the average price. Winemakers aren’t the only ones who want his grapes; as harvest approaches, his ripe grapes draw a hungry wildlife convention.

Hirsch has learned to take his losses philosophically. “The way I see it,” he says with a chuckle, “everybody gets a little. Me, the birds, the coyotes, the bears, the winemakers. It all works out in the end.”

He left out one important group, but that’s OK. Pinot Noir lovers have learned to go to extremes too.