Notes from Cara's trip to Australia trip with LEGEND's Jane Lopes & Jonathan Ross, MS
͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏
Before I could step into the Yangarra High Sands Vineyard, I had to dip my shoes in bleach. Not a quick step-through—a full 60-second immersion per foot in a tray of bleach solution, with no water rinse after. At Chalmers, a vine nursery in Heathcote, the protocols escalated: our entire bus drove through a tire bath before we could enter the property. At Henschke’s Hill of Grace, I wasn’t even allowed into the rows, regardless of how bleach-soaked my
soles were.
I’ve been to vineyards all around the world. I’ve walked terraced vineyards in Wachau, stood in grand cru sites in Montrachet, traipsed through old vines in Stellenbosch, toured million-dollar plantings in Napa Valley. I have never, ever, been asked to wash my shoes.
Because this isn’t wine country cosplay. It’s survival!
Read the rest here, on my brand new substack, for free!
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2999 Solano Avenue, Napa, United States, 94558
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