Down on the farms
Agri-tourism in province’s foothills offers surprises and a little whimsy
I’d expected trail rides and lazy ranch stays when I set out to experience agri-tourism in the Alberta foothills west of Calgary this summer. I hadn’t thought I’d be sipping wine made from dandelion blossoms.
As I try the slightly fruity-tasting Dande, which won gold in Ontario’s 2019 All Canadian Wine Championships, Spirit Hills Winery coowner Hugo Bonjean describes how they make wine not from grapes but from wildflower nectar.
A respected sommelier once told Bonjean that the quality of wine he and his wife, Isle de Wit, create wasn’t considered possible without grapes. “He said, ‘This is innovation in wine. And who would have thought it would happen in Alberta?’ ” recalls Bonjean, laughing.
In a province better known for its mineral resources, this is just one of the surprises I discover during Alberta Open Farm Days, the largest event of its kind in Canada. Each August, more than 100 farmers, beekeepers, ranchers, orchard keepers and gardeners throw open their gates to welcome people to rural life and teach them where their food comes from.
I’m learning there’s more to producing food on a landscape shared with wildlife than I realized. “Other wineries that produce dandelion wine typically use either grape wine, or straight sugar instead of flower nectar,” says Bonjean, noting that they rely on bees to collect the nectar.
There’s an even more whimsical part of the process: To make good wine, the yeast needs music played 24-7 to be happy, according to Bonjean. “I like country and western, but the yeast didn’t,” he recalls of one off-flavoured batch, made to the tune of the region’s traditional soundtrack. Today, classical music weaves around us as we taste wines with names like Saskwatch and Whitetail.
My next stop takes me to Hartell Homestead, 10 kilometres south of the town of Black Diamond (which will merge with neighbouring Turner Valley next year, becoming Diamond Valley). Cruising up the gravel driveway past shaggy cattle more often seen in Scotland, I’m greeted by the owners, Nick Shipley and his wife, Alli.
The newlywed couple is crafting a life with 30 acres of foothills underfoot and views of the Rocky Mountains. I wander past a pen with goats and chickens, and a small patch of sunflowers to a large garden. Shipley explains how at their first Open Farm Days two years earlier, they had just vegetables and eggs.
“We had such a huge turnout. It was a realization to us that people are interested in this,” he recalls. Now they offer tours and events, including canning classes and long table dinners. “I think farmers have started to realize that alongside agriculture is tourism, because people want to learn more and more about their food,” Shipley says. “And if they allow that bit of access, it does improve sales of their product.”
Shipley invites me to follow him to meet the Highland cattle. He slips through the fence to greet Queenie, a caramel-coloured heifer, her dark eyes framed by a long, shaggy coat. “You lure these cows — you don’t chase them,” he says. “If you put a horse in here to drive them and they panicked, they’d drop their heads and, with their horns, run through the fence!”
Educated about Highland cattle, I want to learn about other creatures contributing to the region’s agriculture. As a former pilot, I’m interested in how a fellow flyer started an apiary, and I drive northeast to Chinook Honey Company. Cherie Andrews and her husband, Art, a retired airline pilot who admired insect aviators, founded it in 2004.
After touring similar agribusinesses in Quebec, the two expanded from a small retail space to become a learning centre and Chinook Arch Meadery. If the plan was to relax in retirement, it’s a project gone awry: their facility is now open eight months a year.
I browse the shelves of bottled mead, an ancient form of honey wine, before following the couple outside to admire their mountain view. A couple of bees fly by my head as I realize I’m close to a hive. “Don’t worry,” Andrews murmurs, “the bees are friendly.”
And so is everyone I meet. I check the Alberta Open Farm Days website and see there’s another meadery near the stable where I keep my horse. I decide to finish the day with a drive to Fallentimber Meadery, northwest of Water Valley, to hear how agri-tourism has reunited a family.
As I tour the meadery deep in the aspen parkland, CEO Dustin Ryan explains how his father had been producing honey from beehives and raising cattle on the farm, but it wasn’t large enough to generate income for three adult sons.
When brother Nathan took an ecotourism course at Calgary’s Mount Royal University, he did a class project on turning an apiary into mead tourism. As I look at the large production facility, silver tanks glittering in orderly rows, I hope he got an A.
Creating sparkling mead cocktails with names like Meadjito and Mr. Pink, Fallentimber has found a fan base. Ryan was able to move home from Texas, where he was working as an engineer, and join his brothers in the business. “We now employ 20 full-time staff,” he explains. “We bought one per cent of Alberta’s honey production last year.”
So popular is their modern take on mead, they can’t meet demand with their own bees anymore. As I watch bees descend upon a hive, their legs yellow with pollen collected in their foothill travels, I realize I’ve found my own rewards exploring agritourism here.