24 March 2008 by Sandy Hemphill
The Saga of the Best Bottle of Wine I Never Drank - Part 1
We all have wine memories. Memories of a particular event when wine was shared with loving friends or family. A wine that was so well matched to a particular menu that the two together, the food and the wine, elevated something perfectly wonderful into something sublime. A shopping excursion or tasting adventure. If a memory has come to your mind while reading this, you know what I mean.
When I ponder wine memories, my thoughts always turn back to a particular bottle of wine I’ve come to remember as the best bottle of wine I never drank.
A number of years ago, I found myself at a turning point in life. The death of a romantic relationship led to a new home in a new town and thoughts of a whole new career, too. In the new place, I had no friends, no family, no job, not much of anything except my cats and lots of time to think about what I wanted to do next.
I joined a group of savvy camping enthusiasts who had founded a nonprofit organization in order to secure grants and charitable donations so they could spend time in national forests across the country rebuilding the park trail ways and campsites, planting things, improving signage, and, in general, doing whatever routine or seasonal maintenance the park rangers didn’t have time or resources to do themselves due to budget cuts and hiring freezes.
My first excursion with this group was to Big Bend National Park, a vast expanse of desert and mountain ranges in far west Texas along the Mexican border. This park is so remote we drove about ten hours to get to the main entrance and then drove another hour to get to our campsite.
The night before we left for the desert, a friend of many years blessed my journey with a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon from Del Rio, her west Texas hometown. Val Verde Winery, located a few blocks from her family’s home, makes and bottles the wine. She thought west Texas wine was appropriate for a west Texas adventure and I was eager to find the perfect moment to enjoy this very thoughtful gift.
My fellow park service volunteers and I drove all day and arrived dog tired at night, with no thoughts of doing anything except bedding down and getting plenty of sleep for a day of, presumably, hard work. This night wouldn’t do the wine justice. Activities were too hurried and we didn’t even know each other’s names yet. The wine stayed in my duffel bag.
Our first night was spent in a temporary location so most of the next day was spent moving to and establishing a more permanent base of operations, in a valley about 5,300 feet above sea level, nestled into a small desert mountain range. There were about 30 of us and we were going to be there for seven more nights so some concerted effort and attempts at organization were important.
After spending the day setting up camp and exploring the near vicinity, I felt I hadn’t done anything yet worthy of celebrating with my bottle of west Texas wine and, besides, I still didn’t know any of these people well enough to know who I’d like to share it with. There had been no restrictions mentioned against alcoholic beverages but I didn’t know if it would be frowned upon, or even allowed, at this time. Again, the wine stayed in my duffel bag.
An added bonus discovered at this time, however, was that our more permanent campsite was situated a short distance from the only indoor sleeping facilities in 100 miles and a small convenience store was a part of the facility. They sold beer.