Following the Grape Trail

Two days, three wineries, one killer view.

Sunday was the South African Wine Festival at Grayhaven Winery, a celebration of all things South African. Since it's been 11 years since I've been to South Africa, the festival is like a booster shot to remind me of why - 21-hour flight aside - I fell in love with the place.

And while they can bring in the wines, food and music, there's no pretending that Gum Springs is Stellenbosch or Paarl, although Grayhaven is a charming property with the feel of a farmhouse winery, an inviting place to spend a day.

That is was such a gorgeous day only made it better to taste through wines by Man Vintner and Fairview, including the colorfully-named Goats Do Roam (and I can assure you that they really do at the winery), meeting a burly Burmese mountain dog and personable dachshund named Rigby and their people along the way.

And speaking of dogs, a lamb resembling a greyhound was turning on a spit nearby when we spread out a blanket and settled in with wine and fried oysters with Peri Peri sauce to watch the entertainment from near the crest of the hill. Down in front of the stage, loopy festival-goers were feeling the spirit and dancing, some more ably than others.

The people-watching was exceptional given that an all-day event devoted to wine is bound to produce all kinds of behavior. One drunk woman had to be led out by a muscular friend, her head hanging forward, her barely-there dress creeping higher than anyone needed to see. A woman came back from the marketplace with a bar of handcrafted soap, only to be derided by her friends for buying soap at a wine festival.

And somebody please tell me why on earth you'd bring a baby to a day devoted to drinking? As my Richmond grandmother was fond of saying, "Karen, that just don't make good sense."

Day two of wine adventuring took us to Williamsburg Winery, after a scenic drive down Route 5 - aka Plantation Row - which provided a stellar opportunity to assess the progress of the Capital Bike Trail from Richmond to Williamsburg.

With less than a week to go until the UCI Race madness hits town, it was clear that VDOT was hustling to get the last bits of the trail completed. We must have passed at least a half dozen work crews scattering grass seed, laying hay or working on fencing along the path, parts of which are still marked "closed" despite riders using other sections.

After a satisfying lunch on the patio under a wisteria-covered pergola at the winery's Gabrielle Archer Tavern and a walk around the vineyards, we opted out of a winery tour and headed straight to the tasting room, naturally outfitted to look like a colonial-era room.

Its most appealing feature was a series of woodblock print enlargements chronicling how to farm grapes for wine.

Highlights of the reserve tasting included the 2013 Wessex Hundred Petit Verdot and, naturally, the Governor's Cup-winning 2012 Adagio, their Bordeaux blend, but at $65 a bottle, not likely one I'll ever get more than a taste of.

What surprised me was how far afield some of the grapes they used came from and I don't just mean Culpeper and Charlottesville, but Washington state, too.

The winery tour group arrived in the tasting room with a verbal whip-cracking taster in charge who all but threatened to crack their knuckles with a ruler if they ruined the wine by rinsing out their glasses with water between tastings. She was not putting up with any nonsense, making us glad we'd been tasted through by a sparkling-eyed young woman with a near-constant smile and no rules.

We finished there with just enough time to get to Saude Creek Winery, a place I'd passed countless times on the way to Northern Neck destinations but never bothered to stop. The last thing I was expecting was a sleek tasting room on a hill, mainly because I thought New Kent County was flat as a board.

I guess with enough money, you can find a hill practically anywhere.

Since we got there half an hour before the winery closed, we were a bit of a surprise to the girl behind the tasting counter, but she affably welcomed us in as we marveled at the hilltop location.

"You should see the view from upstairs," she enthused. "You can see all the way to the paper mills in West Point."

For me, this was a dubious selling point since I can't abide the smell of those mills when you drive over the bridges there and although I habitually roll down my car window when I cross a bridge (no matter the season), that's the only one where the windows stay up. A native to West Point, she said she doesn't even smell it anymore. Get out while you can, honey.

But upstairs, she was right, there was a magnificent view all the way to the Pamunkey River, sparkling blue on this cloudless afternoon and far enough away that the mills' odor was a non-issue.

We tasted through the wines quickly and then scored glasses of the Pamunkey Falls white blend and the Merlot and took them to the lower deck that looked out over the treetops toward the river, but with the water view blocked by our lower elevation.

I have a t-shirt that says "Virginia is for wine lovers" and it gets comments from strangers every time I wear it. Say what you want about Virginia wine, but glasses enjoyed outside three wineries on two beautiful afternoons pretty much proves it.

But, please, leave the babies at home.

Dancers Do Roam

It didn't come close to the trip itself, but it was a damn fine way to spend a bodacious Sunday.

On the plus side, it was a 45-minute drive rather than a 21-hour flight to get to the South African Food and Wine festival at Grayhaven Winery.

So my ankles didn't swell.

Driving out to Gum Spring, I was surprised not to see other cars on the back roads leading to the winery.

Pulling into the field near the grape vines, there were only four or five rows of cars parked.

Clearly this was going to be one civilized festival.

I handed the woman at the booth my ticket, she checked my ID and it was time for an immersion in all things South African.

At the wine tent was an array of south African wines - Indaba, Kanonkop, Warwick- and even an attractive winemaker.

Francois Bezuitenhout, winemaker for M.A.N. Family Wines in Paarl, a place I'd been, but since the winery doesn't have a tasting room, it was wonderfully convenient for him to show up here with his wines.

One of my favorite discoveries during my stay in South Africa had been the Pinotage grape, infrequently but occasionally found in Richmond restaurants, so it was a treat to taste through three of them.

Another winery pouring was Fairview, makers of the cleverly-named Goats Do Roam White, Rose and Red and the Goats Roti, a tantalizing blend of Shiraz and Viognier.

I can't resist the floral beauty Viognier brings to the Shiraz.

They even had a picture of a familiar sight, the brick tower at the winery, the one where you're likely to see goats roaming up and down the spiral stairs that encircle the tower.

I talked to a couple who had recently decided while in Italy that their next trip would be to South Africa, answering their questions about which cities and game preserve I'd visited.

My passion got the best of me and by the end of our chat, they thanked me enthusiastically,her saying to her husband, "After hearing that, we are definitely planning a trip."

Wandering around afterwards, I saw a lamb on a spit and heard someone say it looked like a greyhound.

There were South African cured meats to taste, biltong, a kind of jerky, and a chili version that tasted like a really good Slim Jim without the additives and preservatives, and a handsome, smiling South African to answer my every question about the them all.

Lunch was a mixed grill of lamb, chicken and Boerewors sausage, a South African sausage spiced with coriander, with yellow rice with apricots and green peppers.

With a glass of Badenhorst Secateurs Rose, it was time to spread a throw and enjoy some South African entertainment.

All around, the crowd, many with dogs, migrated down under the shady trees to do the same.

South African Mirka and her rock band went first, followed by activist and singer Sharon Katz but the highlight was Tuelo and her Cousins.

Her soulful voice and enthusiastic dancing, long skirt swirling around her, got the crowd up and dancing on the grass before long.

No, I didn't join in then but before the day was over I did some dancing on the grass of my own.

One of my favorite memories of that 2004 trip to South Africa was dancing under the stars at a winery, so maybe it's just something in their grapes that affects me that way.

Give me some Warwick Old Bush Vines Pinotage and there's no telling who I'll ask to dance.

Or maybe there is.