Texas was not high on our places to visit on this eastward trip. But, we decided to break up the drive between New Mexico and Oklahoma, and Amarillo fit the bill. Just a little jaunt – a one-overnight stay – gave us great memories, tasty wine, and the opportunity for Karen to log a bonus running state for 2023.
We noticed the difference in terrain as we entered northern Texas. The elevation was still high, but the plants and animals were different. We were surrounded by grasshoppers (locusts?), prairie dogs and mule deer.
For our overnight stay, we chose our second Harvest Host location: the Bar Z winery just south of Amarillo, in Canyon. We were truly glad we did.
After a provisioning stop at Natural Grocers in Amarillo (we called ahead to make sure we could course-grind some coffee beans for the French press that we now rely on), we arrived at 6 p.m. Having learned from past mistakes, we called ahead to make sure all gates were open, and, we had two bottles of wine waiting for us in a cooler on the tasting room deck that we had ordered.
When we wandered over to pick them up, we noticed the door was open, and Indiana Jones was blaring from a large-screen TV. Behind the tasting room bar was a gray-haired dude who looks a bit like Albert Einstein: Monty Dixon, the founder and owner of the winery. The Bar Z website describes him as “unfiltered, robust, and wholly unique” — much like his wine.
It was true.
As befits the journalists and writers we are, we started peppering him with a few questions. [Karen’s opener: “What makes wine from Texas grapes different?” Monty’s answer: All varieties are lighter in flavor.
Monty realized we were pretty interested in his business, and emerged from the bar to give us an impromptu tour of his cool steel building.
He showed us the barrels where wine was aging. The cost $1,000 each. How does he know when the wine is aged properly? Monty smiled and told us he just climbs up the rack and tastes it.
He encouraged us to climb a ladder and look into the huge vat of fermenting grapes. Where does the yeast come from, Karen asked? Monty pulled us into a back room where he showed us an aging fridge covered with clever stickers and magnets, opened a door and showed us his packages of fancy European yeast.
A typical David question: Alcohol is so heavily regulated. Do the inspectors bug you a lot? His answer: As the northernmost winery in a huge state, they don’t come around much.
Finally, we let up on the inquiry, walked back to Prufrock with our wine, unpacked and ate meat and cheese and bread as we watched an amazingly lovely sunset.
There was one other RV in the field when we arrived, and we met our neighbors – a recently retired couple making their way to see their grandkids in Florida.
We heard a lot of coyotes at night. When we awoke, we headed out for a morning run: one mile down the winery access road and a couple of more miles around brand new subdivisions that are gobbling the land. Why they are built with black shingle roofs — and not solar — puzzled me.
I hit a few practice golf balls in the field, and we packed and headed off to Oklahoma — a totally new state for us.
Technical update
When we arrived at Bar Z, I picked the grassy spot I wanted, then moved around a little to create enough distance from our neighbors. That involved backing into where I wanted to be. Soon, I couldn’t back up any more, so I pulled forward and got up. I then realized I had backed into a shrub I could not see. I made contact with it event though it was basically a wide open field. So annoying. There was no damage, but my error left a tree sap smear that isn’t coming off without chemicals. I’m still kicking myself.
This was the first night ever we didn’t unhitch — just put the stabilizers down. We think that’s OK?
New rule: Always have one of us behind when backing up.
Personal note
I am posting this entry on Yom Kippur, the most sacred date on the Jewish calendar. I seek atonement from all who are disturbed by that.