Oregon’s perfect pairing
Go fly-fishing in the McKenzie River, wine tasting at world-class wineries in the Willamette Valley
DAYTON, Ore. — Standing at the bow of a little rowboat and chatting with my two companions, I realize I’m not just flyfishing Oregon’s famed McKenzie River; I’m also a student in a floating master class on how chance geologic events made this valley about perfect for two things: growing grapes to make world-class wines, and sustaining some of the country’s loveliest wild trout.
Manning the oars is river conservationist and science teacher Steve Lent; wielding a fly rod at the stern is Jesse Lange, lifelong fly fisherman and winemaker at one of Willamette Valley’s first — and finest — wineries.
Like most wine geeks who love pinot noir, my wife, Gail, and I are familiar (read: obsessed) with those from Willamette Valley. When I noticed images of fly lures festooning most bottles of Lange Estate’s wines, I deduced that someone there might share some of my other passions. After a brief email exchange and phone call, Jesse invited my family to visit his vineyards and for me to come fishing with him.
With our teenage son, Ewan, in tow, we arrive in the area on a mid-March morning after an hour’s drive southwest from Portland. We drop our bags at one of the guest houses at Stoller Family Estate and hoof it half an hour north, to Ponzi Vineyards.
Among the area’s pioneer winemakers, the Ponzis settled near the northern tip of the 150-mile long Willamette Valley in the late ’60s. Convinced the climate and dirt were ideal for growing wine grapes such as pinot noir, they cleared pastureland, and swapped hazelnut and walnut orchards for vineyards. Their pinot noirs, especially those made from their oldest vines, are delicious. Ewan has only high praise for his glass of Ponzi’s Cugini sparkling grape juice.
Back that sunny afternoon at Stoller, we stroll to the hilltop tasting room. Pinot noir may rule in Willamette Valley, but Stoller, like other area wineries, also makes very fine wines from other grapes, including sister Burgundian grape chardonnay and lesser known types such as tempranillo.
After an early dinner nearby at homey Nick’s Italian Cafe, we return to Stoller, where we lounge outside our guest house in Adirondack chairs, watching the sun set on acres of gnarled vines.
Though eager to join Gail and Ewan that evening in stargazing, I reluctantly turn in before midnight. After all, I have a different sort of appointment with a winemaker early next morning.
If Jesse seems unusually happy for a man about to start a two-hour drive before dawn with a near stranger, it may be because he’ll soon be doing something that, as a busy winemaker and new dad, he increasingly has less time to do: fly-fish. This is, as I learn on our way, among the enthusiasms he’d picked up from his dad, who founded the family winery three decades ago.
At the valley’s southern tip, we meet Steve at Hayden Bridge and hop aboard his McKenzie River dory. From here we’ll float about 8 miles down the river to Armitage Park.
When not teaching science to middle-schoolers, Steve volunteers as a river steward, helping to safeguard native wild fish in a river in neighboring Washington state. As he sets our little craft on a path downstream, he joins Jesse in giving me a quickie tutorial on fly-fishing from a drift boat, including tips on casting. Because you and your fly line are generally traveling at the same speed, they explain, your fly often has ample time to pass by — and entice — any number of potentially hungry fish.
I’m so lost in reverie about the river’s beauty that I nearly miss the tug at the end of my line. After a short fight, I gently cradle a handsome cutthroat trout. And a wild one, Steve and Jesse say, as evidenced by its vibrant colors and sharply defined fins. Hatchery-born fish, they explain, can also be spotted by the absence of the little adipose fin near their tail that’s typically removed for easier identification.
Though the McKenzie River is stocked with hatchery trout upriver, this stretch is home to mostly native-born, wild cousins.
This being Willamette Valley, our streamside lunch of grilled flank steak and onions with salad is accompanied by bottles of pinot noir and chardonnay from Jesse’s vineyards.
Next morning, wending our way up a gravel road, I wonder if I’ve goofed the directions until we suddenly see the sign for hilltop Lange Estate Winery. After greeting us, Jesse jokes that the lack of fancy signage and pavement is “our bubba filter,” meant to screen out folks just eager to gulp free wine.
Besides stellar pinot noirs, Lange Estate also makes wonderful chardonnay and pinot gris wines. Most recently, they’ve begun producing bubbly.
Much as Gail and I would like to linger, we have one more winery to visit. About 15 minutes’ drive west, Soter Vineyards’ purposefully cryptic road sign (MSR 10880) belies a winery staff, including rambunctious young cats, Bill and Ted, that welcomes visitors. Gail and I love their pinot noirs but are gaga for their sparkling Mineral Springs brut rose.
Dinner that night at cozy restaurant Thistle, in nearby McMinnville, has us considering extending our stay.
Next morning, after packing our rental car, we take another stroll around the grounds. We swear we can almost see the first new buds peeking from the vines, signaling the beginning of what will soon be a riot of springtime green. Which, I remember Jesse and Steve telling me, also happens to be prime season to fish for trout.