The wine is really fresh, faintly tangy, and entirely drinkable. It has aromas of apple, and something that I can only describe as freshness, like the air after a good spring rain. It’s has the classic quality that I associate with BC Pinot Gris, that of being entirely too easy to down in large quantities.

Black Widow Winery is located in Naramata, BC, and they actually print the date the grapes were picked on the label. These were picked September 28, and October 6. I have no idea what that means, but it’s a nice locavore touch.

I’d recommend this for a beautiful spring picnic. If you just can’t wait, you could always spread a blanket in front of the fire, raise a glass, and pretend it’s April.

The Garnacha de Fuego has a rich, dark fruity aroma. It’s smooth and warm, like a kiss from a beautiful brunette. Kayla confirms. It’s definitely a brunette, not a blond.

It’s got a smooth, fruit flavor, with hints of chocolate, plums and cherries. The finish lingers, with a pleasant tang.

This would be a great wine for a romantic night in front of a fireplace. It might even go well with a redhead.

The atmosphere is cosy and warm. The walls are mustard yellow, with coffee sacks draped everywhere, and a display of local art on the wall.

Buon Amicis bills itself as the “Originator of the table-poured latte,” and sure enough, the barista came out and poured the latte at our table. He made a lovely heart pattern. You can see a video of a perfect latte pour on the Buon Amicis web site. It’s just beautiful. 

Mmmm. The latte is luscious, silky, the foam just melting on the tongue. The coffee is rich, sweet, no bitterness. Really good. The coffee is served with a chocolate covered espresso bean.

If I lived in Victoria, I’d be here all the time. It has the look of a neighborhood hangout. The table next to us was full of runners who’d clearly gathered here after their morning jog. It was a beautiful day to be outside.  It was too cold for the elderly woman at the next table to be wearing short shorts, though. And a couple of decades late. Note to self: when my hair matches my veins, time to wear pants.

We go to Bellagio’s Cafe, across the street from the Vancouver Art Gallery on Hornby. It’s cozy, with dark walls and piles of books everywhere. 

We ordered the Jackson Triggs Proprietor’s Selection Shiraz. 

Melinda:”It’s very sweet.”

Jennifer: “I like it. I think it’s fine. I don’t find it too sweet.”

Kayla:  ”It’s sweet for a Shiraz, but still tasty.”

Melinda:  ”It’s very sweet. But, I drank it and now I’m a bit tipsy.”

The food at Bellagio’s was very tasty. The veggie lasagne was good, and the tiramisu was extraordinary. The Shiraz was also yummy. Most importantly, I had a nice dinner with my sister, and no one died. Now that’s a night out!

It’s a well-cellared wine, and right now is it’s peak (according to the guy at the wine store who knows these things). Next time you need something and sophisticated for an interesting evening at home in front of the fire, pick up a bottle of this, if you can find it.

My co-worker, who exclaims in horror at the thought of drinking Riesling, because it’s a “sweet wine” needs to try this: Cedar Creek 2007 Dry Riesling. It’s a VQA release from the Okanogan Valley, and it’s right tasty.

The label says it has notes of “peach, honeysuckle and citrus.” I’m not sure what honeysuckle tastes like, but the peach and citrus notes are clear.

It has a nice tang, and a delicious sparkly quality on the tongue. The tang lingers pleasantly, There is some sweetness to it, but only enough to make it go down really fast, not enough to be cloying. It’s remincient of a fresh, cripst Granny Smith Apple. The colour is beautiful, a soft golden pear, with good legs.

After the terrible summer we’ve had in Vancouver, we’re trying to get in as many chilled whites as possible while the fantastic September weather lasts. This wine fits perfectly. Grab a few bottles of it, and drink them fast. It would be perfect for a party, and it’s just sweet enough to grab the attention of someone whose ready to graduate from wine coolers.

When we went in, they were offering samples of a Luna Argenta Prosecco. I’d just read an article about Prosecco, the Italian’s affordable answer to Champagne, and I was eager to taste it. It’s good. We picked up the Luna Argenta, and a bottle of Rigamarole Rose. How can you not like a wine whose label proclaims that it is a “menagerie of (what else?) pink dolphins and flamingos.” 

After picking up the wine, the next task was cleaning. I was a bit embarrassed to take out the recyling past a crowd of home buyers checking out an open house. What’s worse, potential neighbors thinking I’m taking out 14 wine bottles because I’m a slob or a lush? Oh well. We got the house clean, and a veggie lasangue and a Black Forest cake in the oven. 

When our guests arrived, we started with a glass of Joie 2007 A Noble Blend. This is an amazing wine, as we’ve mentioned before. That didn’t take long to drink, so we opened up the Luna Argenta Prosecco. There is a reason Italians drink it by the litre. It was dry, sparkling, and disappeared from our glasses in no time. I’m convinced it evaporated. 

We were all getting a trifle flushed ourselves by this time, so out came the Rigamarole Rose. It has a beautiful fuschia colour, very much the colour of flamingos. It’s just lovely, and perfect for adding some rose-coloured glassed to a summer dinner party. It had an intense aroma of fresh, sweet strawberries. The smell of this wine is worth the price of bottle alone. Though it has such a sweet smell, this is nice, dry wine, that drinks entirely too easily. It like a wine cooler for adults. 

A lovely evening was had by all, even the kitty cat who wandered through the porch door and made friends. I can think of nothing nicer than enjoying three excellent wines with good company.

The wine has a rich, plummy, jammy aroma, like Christmas pudding. It is spicy on the tongue, has a nice heat going down the throat, and it would work well with any hearty, savoury foods. 

It’s not at all a gulpable wine, but it’s a good steady sipper. Despite the fact that it didn’t go well with the weather at all, the bottle disappeared pretty fast. 

I can see this as a fantastic Halloween party wine. With it’s blood-dark colour and thick legs, it would look great in a goblet, and would compliment black fingernails beautifully. the spice and heat would be perfect for a fall feast, and maybe some pumpkin pie. 

So imagine my surprise to find my local wine shop carrying able stock of Joie products including the 2007 noble blend.

I love my spicy wines which is why I generally reach for the Shiraz or Grenache’s from hot regions of the world. Though I’m slowly finding beauty within whites. The Joie noble blend is spicy, aromatic and full of intricate flavour.

If you don’t live in British Columbia you are likely out of luck, but if you can find a bottle pick it up. You won’t be disappointed.

Verdict: Excellent!

79% Cab Sauvignon, 13% Merlot, 5% Cab Franc, 2% Petite Verdot, 1% Malbec

A blend unlike any I’ve every tasted. The bottle was enjoyed Friday night with veggie burritos and tonight with chili and grilled cheese sandwiches.

Verdict: Good!

On the other hand, the vegetarian lettus wraps with mango and cashews were amazing.

Verdict: O.K.

Verdict: Good value!

Saturday May 31st:

7:33 - Kayla: We are waiting for our table. It’s one hour in, one hour two go until we get to a table. Fortunately, Vij’s keeps tasty vegetarian snacks circulating. Bottle opened. Spicey for a gamay. Should be fun.
Says Melinda: The evening has just started, and already she can’t write full sentences. Oh boy.
This wine is tasty. Very light and drinkable, with unusual spice for a gamay. A fair bit of sweetness lingers on the finish. It’s a little sweeter than I usually like. But this is going down really fast. We’ll see how the night progresses.

8:22 - Kayla: We are now seated. Met a very nice couple while we were drinking at the bar. Killed time nicely. This gamay is going down far too quickly.
Says Melinda: I’m drunk. This is an easy drinking wine. The more you drink, the more the sweetness overpowers the spice. And the better your companion looks.

8:40 - Kayla: We’re just finishing up our Jack fruit appitizer. Very yummy. If you haven’t had it - it is literally the vegetarian equivilant to pork.

9:13 - Kayla: We are well into our entrees. The blueberries are … I can’t remember. That’s how drunk I am.

Says Melinda: The blueberries are amazing. Sweet bursts in this amazing cabbage, potato and bell pepper curry. Mmmmm…….

9:35 - Kayla: The wine is done. Onto desert. Gulam something and chai.

Says Melina: Gulam jamun. They are so sweet, and so good. The chai is the most amazing chai I’ve ever had. Sweet, spicey, fresh. But then, I’m a little drunk. In fact, I’ve been putting off visiting the facilities, because standing is going to be hard. Good wine. Amazing meal. Stellar service. We’ll be doing this again.

More information here:

http://opikalo.wordpress.com/2007/10/12/latte-art-printing-machine-how-to-build-one/

A trip to Quayside Wine Cellar on the way home and I was recommended this red blend by Kendall Jackson of California. 75% Zinfandel, 25% Shiraz, 100% awesome. Light oak flavour and you can make out the spice of the shiraz in the background.

I paired my glass with some milk chocolate for a lovely dessert.

Verdict: Good!

Note from the Other: We’ll see.

This bottle was bought from Village VQA Wines on 41st at Dunbar. I love this store because of their excellent BC wine collection (including many delicious Gamays).

I was saving this last glass for Melinda but decided to enjoy it myself. She’ll kill me when she gets home.

Enjoyed while playing Penny Arcade Adventures and eating a Vegetarian Pepperoni Pizza from Panago.

Verdict: Personal Favourite!

Note from Melinda: Grrrrr!

Let me translate. Take 1 Rancilio Silvia espresso machine. Hack it to bits and add some fancy silicon. Wire in a Wii Nunchuk controller. Voila - you have this masterpeice hybrid of caffeine and high-tech geekery.

Original post and video here: http://growdown.blogspot.com/2008/04/arduino-and-silvia-two-italians-one.html

Our mother looked down at us and smiled. Coffee beans were roasting behind her, the mellow whoosh of the moving beans a sound fixed in our memories as belonging with the comforting scent of freshly roasted coffee – a scent that filled the small coffee shop on Noriega Street and even beckoned you into its warm embrace from the wet and foggy street outside.

After the candy ritual, Henry turned his attention to Mom. He filled her order from the bins of coffee that surrounded him. The hatch opened and out poured the beans into the waiting brown paper bag – our own piece of the roaster’s work. Henry was a small man, soft in manner, and gentle in tone. He always wore dress pants, a dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and a green apron. He exchanged niceties with us in Armenian-accented English, which added to his coffee shop’s other-worldliness, at least to me. Coffee was special and exotic, yet something as familiar to us as our mother who drank it while she worked at home.

I loved going with Mom to Henry’s to buy her coffee. I could barely see above the counter, but I could see Henry sprinkle a handful of sesame and honey candies into the bag that held Mom’s bag of coffee. We’d unwrap the cellophane from them in the car and crunch on them as we went off to do our next errand. The seeds would get stuck in our teeth and the honey cemented them in, the final cap to our coffee-getting tradition.

The next time I would see the coffee, it would be in my mother’s cream-colored mug. It wasn’t a round mug; it was like a hectagon with many, many sides all around, like panels. And it had a blue rim on the top. The coffee mug was always at her right side as she tapped away on the keyboard. This was the sound I woke up to and the sound I fell asleep to. The cadence of my childhood in our apartment on Taraval Street, it was the sound of a mother taking care of her children.

Sometimes I stood beside my mother as she worked. I would gaze into her cup of coffee as steam wafted from it, as she stared at the screen and her fingers danced on the keys. Sometimes she’d notice me there and stop her work to smile and kiss me on the cheek.

When I look into my cup now, I’m so grateful hers was there for me to see.

In addition to the tasty spread of recipes that can be made with coffee that you’d drink, there’s another whole category of opportunity. Coffee, too, has the capacity to augment the qualities of many other foods, and in many ways. The subtle, or bold, as the case may be, introduction of coffee’s flavor lends richness to some surprising dishes. Let’s start out with some more intuitive combinations, though.

Coffee and dessert, separately, are a natural combination, so it’s nothing out of the ordinary to find the two mingled together in sumptuous decadence as in a recipe for chocolate espresso brownies, which calls for espresso granules both in the brownies themselves and in their filling. Coffee may be delicately laced into a dessert as well. A quick and easy icing may be created by mixing confectioners’ sugar and (a very small amount) of any liquid – like lemon juice, vanilla extract, maple syrup, or, of course, brewed coffee.

Whole beans are also added to some unlikely recipes. In a recipe for Sambuca Romana Jam, whole coffee beans – precisely ten per jar – are placed in a container of a just-boiled jelly concoction of blueberries, lemon rind, sugar, Sambuca, and pectin. (Sambuca is an aniseed-flavored liqueur that’s either colorless, deep blue, or bright red. Incidentally, Sambuca is also sometimes added to coffee as a sweetener instead of sugar in an Italian drink known as caffe corretto, or “corrected coffee.”)

Stepping away from the sweeter side, let’s look at some even more atypical inclusions of our beloved beverage. A recipe entitled BBQ Meatloaf Aussie Style calls for a tablespoon of instant coffee to strengthen it, Coffee Barbeque Sauce demands dark coffee or espresso for a can’t-quite-figure-this-out-but-it’s-quite-delicious result, and Cowboy Brisket asks for dark coffee as the deglazing liquid in the makings of its sauce. (Fascinating link between barbequed food and coffee, isn’t it?) Aptly named red-eye gravy is a Southern dish that also calls for coffee as a deglazing liquid, but in this case with ham. However, the red-eye appellation doesn’t evolve from coffee’s convenient caffeine effects; rather, it derives from the possible appearance of the gravy once it cools – the heavier grease sinks below the coffee, which gives the mixture a reddish hue.

Whether enjoyed solo or with suggestive ghosts of additional flavors, whether included in expected desserts or added almost surreptitiously in unlikely places, coffee belongs in the pantry of any discriminating cook – whether coffee drinker or not. After all, you never know when the urge for greasy coffee poured over pork may arise…

First thing first – purchase your coffee as whole beans and grind them yourself as you need to for consumption. The more surface area, like that which occurs exponentially when beans are ground, the more exposure to the elements that damage the freshness of your coffee.

Refrigerating or freezing coffee, as people traditionally do, causes the coffee to come into too much contact with moisture, which causes the coffee to deteriorate. Putting the coffee in the refrigerator or freezer is inadvisable because of the nature of coffee itself. For one thing, coffee is porous. This is great when the coffee absorbs its own oils and flavors back into itself, but much less than desirable when other flavors and essences, in combination with moisture, come into contact with coffee, lodge within your beans or grounds, and begin to break them down and alter their flavor. Frozen shrimp-hazed stale coffee is anything but enticing. In addition, the oils that give coffee much of its flavor are broken down when they’re frozen.

Keeping the coffee in the packages you purchased them in is also a big no-no, as these almost always allow too much air to come into contact with your coffee. A glass airtight container kept in a cool, dry, and dark place is the best home for your coffee as it’s waiting to be brewed, served, and enjoyed to its fullest capacity.

The amount of coffee you buy also directly impacts the way you store it. If at all possible, it’s best to buy coffee in small proportions so the freshly roasted flavor remains strong naturally as long as possible. It begins to lose its freshly roasted characteristic almost as soon as it’s done being roasted, so a good rule of thumb is to purchase coffee in amounts that you’d consume in about a one- to two-week period. Also keep this in mind: each time you open your daily coffee container, you’re allowing new air to come into contact with what remains in the container. Hence, it’s not a bad idea to divide even your daily coffee into a few small containers, keeping the larger unused portion in its own airtight container. This way you ensure the least amount of contamination of coffee’s fresh and pure delicousness.

There is an exception to the freezer rule. While you shouldn’t keep your daily coffee in the freezer, if you’ve purchased a large quantity of coffee that you won’t immediately use, you may divide it into smaller portions and keep them in airtight containers in the freezer for up to a month. Don’t, however, re-freeze any of these portions once they’re thawed out. The repeated process of moisture being absorbed into the beans will destroy their freshness. Once coffee makes its transition to your on-call daily beans, treat it as the above paragraph outlines. There’s no instance in which coffee should be refrigerated.

To enjoy the finest coffee you can, even in your own home, you must honor its easily alterable subtleties. Treat coffee right and it will reward you with itself.

That said, when and how should wine be used in cooking? Wine is not used in cooking to impose its own flavor in a dish; rather, it is used to augment existing flavors and round them out. Wine in cooking is meant to strengthen the effect of the main ingredients. This is one of the main reasons that oftentimes the wine added to sauces, soups, or stews is added well before the dish is ready to serve.

While the food boils or simmers, the alcohol in the wine evaporates, leaving behind only the sweetness and acidity of the wine’s actual flavor. Be sure not to add too much wine to a dish; otherwise, these flavors could become overpowering. Once you add wine, wait at least ten minutes to taste and know the results of wine’s addition to your dish.

Deciding which wine to use in what kind of dish is similar to pairing wine with food. For instance, red meat stews can take the addition of a full-bodied red wine, as can tomato-based sauces. Lighter cream sauces, however, are better suited to the addition of white wines. The same is true for most seafood dishes. Desserts also tend to do better with the addition of white wines, sweet ones in this case.

The amount of wine to add is another thing to consider. About one to two tablespoons per cup in soups, sauces, and gravies, is a safe rule of thumb. Stews and meats can take about a quarter of a cup per pound of meat. Add more wine in small amounts because there’s no going back. (Tip: if you do accidentally impart an unintended harshness to your dish with too much wine, you may sometimes balance this out with a little sugar. This works well in tomato sauces, for instance.)

In addition to use in actual cooking, wine is also often used as a component of a marinade. One important function of wine in a marinade is the alcohol’s effect of tenderizing the meat. Another way wine is used is in finishing a sauce. Wines used in this manner are almost always lighter-flavored white wines (reds would be too overpowering to use without cooking time to reduce them and evaporate the alcohol). This process of finishing is used to round out the sweetness of a dish.

Subtlety is key when cooking with wine. Using too little is the same as using none because its effect will go untasted; using too much could kill the delicate flavors of your meal. But wine’s unparalleled flavors, tempered with knowledge of how they behave when you cook with them, can push many dishes closer to the height of perfection.

There certainly are those in the know when it comes to wine. Sommeliers are highly trained wine experts who are deeply knowledgeable about all aspects of wine, from procurement and storage to tasting and pairing. Their contact with patrons in upscale restaurants involves their skill at breaking down a wine’s characteristics of aroma, flavor, and body, describing them to the customer, and offering suggestions for combinations complementary to menu offerings.

But you don’t have to be a sommelier to be good at wine pairing. While there are some fundamental principles that may loosely govern what types of wines go well with different types of foods (or vice versa), you’ll be happy to learn that wine pairing is in fact an intensely personal experience, an awareness and awakening of your palate’s sensibilities.

A general and widely cited rule of thumb suggests that poultry and fish go nicely with white wines, while stronger red wines should be reserved for gamey meat, beef, or lamb. But as consumers are becoming increasingly educated about wine and as more and more varieties of artisan wines are being shipped from around the globe, the rules of the game are crossing red and white lines.

For instance, a light Pinot Noir from the Willamette Valley in Oregon, whose climate accounts for this red wine’s soft berry tones, could make a lovely pair with a lobster or chicken dish. Conversely, a Pinot Grigio from Italy boasts a sharpness and acidity that’s rare in white wines but is perfectly capable of standing up to the richness of pork, which is traditionally served with robust red wines. Furthermore, Sauvignon Blancs from the Russian River Valley in California are bold and intense with a smokiness gleaned from the oak barrels they age in, producing a white wine that can handle the intensity of stronger foods.

Remember that the goal of pairing is to create a match in which the food is enhanced by a particular wine and the wine is enhanced by a particular food. Neither the food nor the wine should overpower the other. Since you’re presumably already familiar with the qualities of food, begin your wine pairing endeavors by paying close attention to the wines you enjoy and their particular characteristics. Make a mental log of what you personally like and describe the wine to yourself (or to anyone who will listen); be creative and imaginative, giving word to the nuances in mouth feel, sharpness, sweetness, bitterness and the myriad of flavors in a sip of wine.

Decide on a category or two of wine that you are particularly fond of. Then, embark on simple pairing expeditions: lay out some olives (both green and black), various cheeses, some herbs, nuts, spices, fruit, whatever you think may be good to try with your wine of choice. Sample combinations of food with the wine (rinsing your mouth with water between pairings). Experience the effect of the combination and describe this as well. Soon, you’ll discover that you’re more of an amateur sommelier than you ever thought possible – and all through heeding, absorbing, and articulating your own personal taste.

Yes, I’d unpack the car in the morning, clean things up after a week away from home, pamper aching muscles, and – finally! – enjoy my west Texas wine as I remembered the events of my west Texas wilderness adventure. This seemed to me to be a perfect way to end such a journey.

I fell into a deep, deep, dreamless sleep, the kind that comes only when a person’s been away from his or her own perfectly familiar, comfortable bed for a while. I was looking forward to spending tomorrow alone, quiet, and enjoying a personal celebration of my adventure as a very hard-working volunteer in a beautiful national park.

I woke up entirely at peace, relaxed, a little achy but nothing to complain about, especially after spending a week sleeping on rocks. I lingered over coffee and breakfast, promised the cats I’d never leave them alone for so long ever again, and then set about unpacking my car and my camping gear. I planned the day so I that I could open my much-anticipated bottle of west Texas wine just about the time the sun would begin to set and that fabulous moon would begin to rise again.

When it comes to packing a duffel bag for eight days in the wilderness, city girls might not be the most adept. This lesson I learned quite sadly.

My giant duffel bag was so full of clothes for all occasions and weather events; books to read and magazines to share when boredom set in (hah!); toiletries, moisturizers, scented soaps, potions, and lotions that were entirely inappropriate; snacks in case there wasn’t any food I liked (another hah!); and a separate pair of shoes for every day of the journey that it was just too heavy for me to get out of the car with any sort of grace or dignity.

It didn’t seem possible that it could be heavier now than it had been when I’d left but I guess my poor muscles had gotten such a work-out over the course of the week that they just weren’t cooperating as I’d expected them to.

I pushed and scooted it. I heaved it, hoisted it, and inched it along until it fell out of the car’s trunk and onto the ground. I dragged it across the lawn, onto the deck, and into the back door.

The minute I unzipped my duffel bag, I knew something was wrong. Very, very wrong. I smelled wine.

I pulled out books and magazines never read, snacks never eaten, shoes never worn, clothes never even remembered. Nestled snugly, I thought, in the bath towels never used, was my treasured bottle of wine.

Somewhere along the journey home, probably as we hurriedly and exhaustedly crammed one bag on top of another, eager to set out on the long road trip home, my coveted bottle of wine had gotten broken.

My unused bath towels were drenched in my precious Cabernet Sauvignon. My bottle was crushed into a few big, ugly, jagged pieces of glass. The bottle’s label, still all in one piece, was facing up, straight toward my eyes, as if to tell me that I shouldn’t have waited so long.

And I probably should not have waited so long. That’s one of the many things I learned on this journey into the wilderness with a group of strangers.

I learned that wine pairs perfectly with strangers and the wilderness, and with strangers in the city, too. And that it tastes great with friends old and new alike. And that every day brings the perfect moment for enjoying a glass of wine, if we just slow down long enough to realize it.

And, like all things of true value, when we hoard them away, keeping them to ourselves while denying the joy of sharing, they somehow find a way of escaping us anyway.

Although I never got to drink a single drop, for all the things it taught me, this one is the very best bottle of wine I never drank.

I’ll remember it always.

On our last night at the park, they treated us to a night, and a party, at an old but spectacular hacienda on a cliff overlooking the Rio Grande River with wonderful views of the breathtaking Mexican desert. This is a very secluded building the park rangers reserve for their own personal use and is not identified on any maps, no road signs lead the way, and it isn’t mentioned in any literature available to the public.

There’s a tiny Mexican village on the other side of the river, with a raft that could transport people across from one side of the border to the other. During the day, our camp cooks crossed over and bought a couple of cabritos (baby goats ready to roast over an open fire), a couple bottles of tequila, a bottle of pulque, and more beer for our “last night” party.

A couple of our hardiest hikers trudged six miles up to the highest peak of the mountain range, where the rangers keep a cabin for their use when working way up there so far from their living quarters. There was a hand-cranked ice cream maker up there and we were bound and determined to have ice cream for dessert. Of course, the six-mile hike up the mountain meant a six-mile hike back down. I’ve never known anyone work so hard for ice cream.

My first thoughts were that this would be the perfect occasion to finally enjoy my special bottle of west Texas wine but I had second thoughts and didn’t open it after all.

I just had the one bottle and there were about 40 of us at the party. Seemed to me, there just wasn’t enough to make opening the bottle worthwhile.

And besides, I am a bit of a loner. I crave solitude. Being sequestered hundreds of miles in the wilderness with 30 strangers was beginning to erode my sociability. I wasn’t sure I wanted to share my treasure with these people anymore.

And I certainly didn’t want to suffer through the ravages of a hangover for a ten-hour road trip with them, especially when they might be hung-over, too. The tequila, pulque, and beer courted disaster closely enough for me to avoid them altogether on this night. I limited my liquid consumption for the night to cool, clear water. Lots of it but nothing more.

And, again, the wine stayed in my duffel bag.

I woke up the next day feeling absolutely fabulous. I’d stayed awake most of the night. I watched from the veranda overlooking the river as a fabulously full moon rose in the east and traveled slowly across the sky. As it drifted from one horizon to the other, it lit the desert with a magic that can only be witnessed hundreds of miles from city lights and it cast an unforgetably etheral light over the veranda. Tucked away out there, in the desert and under the open sky, it seemed the moon was so close I could have reached up and touched it.

The moon, the stars, the night breezes blowing across the desert, and the sounds of animals off in the distance was magical. Enchanting. I resolved to return to my friend’s house once we returned to the city, open the bottle of wine she’d sent with me, and share it with her while I told her of all the adventures, and the few misadventures, I’d encountered over the last eight days.

The return to civilization seemed to take forever. Once we arrived back in the city, unloaded our travel vans, I headed to my friend’s house.

She had company, a visitor I’d never met before. I just didn’t feel the setting was right for sharing my very special bottle of wine with this stranger, especially after spending a week with dozens of them. I didn’t stay.

The little store recycled cans and paid us about a nickel for each can we returned. We saved every can and “reinvested” our beer fund each day on as much beer as our recycled cans would buy. This became a game to see how big a party we would have each evening as we also collected discarded beer cans gleaned from our workstations throughout the park.

The next day we split into groups and got down to some serious business. My group gathered before dawn at the KP tent, ate a quick breakfast, assembled sandwich lunches, along with fruit and snacks we stowed in our backpacks. Also in our backpacks, we each carried a gallon of water (almost nine pounds of water!), work gloves, sunscreen, insect repellant, first aid kits, flashlights, whistles to ward off wild animals and signal for help if need be, snake bite kits, blister packs, and anything else we thought we might need before returning to camp at the end of the day.

My group was headed up the mountain a few hundred feet, which meant a very meandering hike up, up, and up for about three and a half miles. Once there, we’d be tearing down a rock retaining wall that held up a side of the hill along a hiking trail. Tourists claimed it looked too civilized for such a remote wilderness area and distracted from the experience. It had to go.

Before beginning the hike, each volunteer grabbed a shovel, pick, or some other such tool. As we departed camp in the predawn darkness, mining tools over our shoulders, we began singing, and whistling, “Hi ho! Hi ho! It’s off to work we go. . .!”

My body wasn’t ready for this. It took me two hours just to get to get up the hill to the work site. My car commutes to work in the city never took this long.

But we had so much fun when we got there, and along the way, too. Somehow, contests developed – who could throw the biggest rock over the side of the cliff, who could through the most rocks the fastest, which two people could heave the biggest rock over, and games such as that. I’d never worked so hard while laughing so hard in my life.

By the end of the day, I could barely make it down the mountain to an absolutely scrumptious spaghetti dinner at camp. My wine would have been excellent with this feast but I just didn’t have the energy to open the bottle. And, after all that hard physical labor, I didn’t have much of an appetite, either. The wine stayed in the duffel bag.

My group did the same work for three days and each evening I just didn’t have the energy left to enjoy the wine with the appreciation I felt it deserved. It stayed in the duffel bag.

We were a long way from enough water to shower with. Deserts are like that, even those in the mountains. Some of our guys had rigged a sun shower in the only tree in sight that was tall enough for an adult to stand, and shower, under. Pretty much everything else around was cactus, rocks, and wildflowers.

This thoughtful team of bath engineers had even rigged up a shower curtain for privacy and a spread of flat rocks below so feet wouldn’t get muddy while in the process of getting clean. The rattlesnakes really loved our shower and took up residence before the first night was over. Our shower became more a conversation piece off in the distance than a cleansing reality.

There was a public shower facility in the park but it was about 30 miles away from our campsite. Vehicles and gas money were scarce and we had a long drive back home so we were very conservative about making this time-consuming journey.

Besides, bathing seemed to become less important when nobody else was bathing and the park rangers had shown us the way to a couple of natural hot springs along the river, although in locations that looked pretty “snaky” to me. But after long days of such hard, but fun, work, I was just too tired to spend the time or go to the effort very often.

After work the fourth day, however, I couldn’t resist. I jumped in back of the “shower truck” and splurged on the maximum – 3 minutes of shower time for 75 cents a minute. I felt so good when we finally got back to camp that I just curled up in my sleeping bag on my rocky ledge and quickly fell asleep. No drinking the wine that night.

This is pretty much the way the rest of the journey went. Just too tired to do my friend’s wine justice.

And there was the beer thing. Seems each day we were able to buy more beer than the day before, using only recycled cans for cash. We even elected a beer committee, chartered with buying the beer early enough in the day that it would be perfectly chilled by the time our work was done at the end of a long, hard, but tremendously rewarding day. After a few nights of “recycled beer,” as we called it, it seemed almost sacrilege to drink anything else.

The wine stayed in my duffel bag all week long.