• My sister is amazing. In addition to being amazing she loves wine and has a fun writing style. Naturally, I like to encourage both of those behaviors.

    This is her 3rd post here and I am very pleased to share it with you.

    The weekend prior to our scheduled vacation, my husband and I had the bright idea to do a “float” down the Clackamas River (which involves floaty tubes of various sizes tied together with rope and excessive drinking). Fast forward ten hours later I had 6 stitches in my right foot and built up muscles I didn’t know existed from hobbling around on crutches.

    Minorly depressed I threw myself a pity party but was still determined to continue our vacation plans, albeit cut shorter than intended (so I could get the stitches taken out by a professional, not my giddy scissor welding husband).
    As anyone that knows me can attest, I *heart* spare of the moment decisions. So after a quick trip to Powell’s book store for some travel inspiration, I turned to my husband and shouted, “Hey babe, let’s go North!” Only he was about two floors down in Sci-Fi/Fantasy and I had scared an old Asian man, but when I did eventually find him, he was like “Yeah!”
    The husband had concurred, so with passports in hand we drove to the border, which strange for me to say after growing up in LA, was Canada.

    We spent about three days, racing around Vancouver trying to see all that we could. Running low on funds, we ran out of ideas and things to see on a budget. Did anyone else know that a six pack of beer costs $15+ in BC? (So much for the cheap route) Late the last of our booked nights, we sat in our hotel room watching a really bad Canadian television remake of a reality contest show. I started flipping through my Powell’s book purchases and came across an interesting phenomenon. Canadians make wine?


    “Babe, were going to Wine Country!” I shouted, to my sleeping husband. The next morning we drove to Okanagan Valley. Four hours gazing at serene green rolling hills, ice capped mountains, and crystal clear rivers, not so bad compared to the flat nothing view on the 5 freeway between LA and SFO. I think we both shouted in glee when we spotted the first Wine Tasting sign. “Eeeeeeeee!” In unison.


    After a few wrong turns and a trek through some farm land, we found our first Canadian winery: Krause Berry Farms & Estate Winery. It turned out they only had wines made from berries, the fact that it was a berry farm should have been our first clue, but it was fun to try. We made friends with the woman pouring the tastes and she gave us a plethora of maps to take with us. We saddled up with a Blackberry Port Style wine, which was actually the least sweet of the bunch. It was a deep garnet shade making a slow glide down the glass; the taste was fruit forward sweet hitting you in the front and a subtle dark chocolate in the back.


    We decided to skip out on the rest of the fruit farms after we found out we were still a ways from our destination. So we hit the road once again and it was off to Kelowna, a city on Okanagan Lake in the Okanaga Valley home to over twenty-five wineries calling our name…


    – Sara Hood-Herrera