You see, we've only lived in grape country for just over three years and although I've contributed a significant amount of money to the wine industries over the past 50 years or so, I've never seen under the bonnet, so to speak.
But this night was different. We gathered at our friend's vineyard around 7 pm, just before darkness set in and watched the monster roll up and stop just in front of the first row of grapes. In the next row to the right, there was a tractor towing a hopper that has the amazing ability to raise itself to tip truck height so it can tip its load into a semi-trailer.
When the yellow monster starts, plastic "blades" (for want of a better word) move up and down and shake the grapes off the vine after which they are sucked up into a funnel that spits them out into the back of the hopper.
Incredibly, the non-fruit part of the vines, although scratched a little, are still intact and these have to be trimmed off by hand later.
The hopper carries a couple of tonnes of grapes and when full, transports them to the semi-trailer and tips them into the back.
I've always had a great respect for those people, much smarter than me, who make these types of machines - mechanical engineers. As I pondered the design of the machine, I couldn't help but wonder how many grape vines were destroyed trying to get the prototype working. Trial and error is always the way with new machines.
Apparently all the grapes in the Barossa Valley are shiraz grapes. They tend to be a bit smaller than those you buy in supermarkets.
They are picked during the evening when it is cooler since the grapes are a bit harder and less likely to be damaged. Warm, soft grapes can split and lose their juice,
Next year, every time I open a bottle of red wine, at the back of my mind, I'll be wondering whether the grapes I saw picked on this evening helped to make the bottle I'm drinking. Statistically, the probability is probably less than zero, but I'll still think it. Wouldn't you?
Robin
