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The only option was one of the semi-underground tanks that we had in the
pressoir
.
I wanted to avoid them because they were dangerous but now we had no choice. Sean
quickly filled his hand pump with the required sterilisation product then squished himself
through the lid in the floor of the
pressoir
and descended into the heart of the vat.
I felt like I was on a high-pressure technology project. We were working crazy hours and
under intense conditions but a camaraderie was developing between the three of us. Things
were going a lot better with Sean now that the harvest was in full swing. I was still being
treated like the weakest link but since establishing myself as the 'expert' on the finer points
of winemaking like yeasts and analysis, I was getting a little respect. Sean emerged from
the underground vat and we did a final check that everything was ready. Ellie was much
better and we got four hours of solid sleep.
We woke to a star-studded sky. Ten acres of merlot made it our biggest day. At five sharp
the blue monster hummed into the courtyard. I climbed up to hitch a ride to show Jean-
François what we were picking for the day. Riding high on the open wing of the harvest
machine I felt awed by our starlit vineyards laid out peacefully under the infinite velvet
sky.
Back at the winery the lights were on and it was buzzing with activity as Sean and John
connected pipes and checked vats. Sean backed up the first load of merlot, a trailer of per-
fectly formed berries with no foreign matter to be seen. Around dawn as we hooked up the
fourth trailer the church bells in Saussignac started ringing and carried on eerily all morn-
ing.
'Someone's died in the village,' I said.
'Always look on the bright side,' said Sean.
'No, I'm sure that's what it is.' I hoped I was wrong.
On the ninth load fatigue was setting in. John and I tried to get the harvest pipe onto the
trailer and it took on a life of its own, reared up and whacked us around the heads. We sat
down for a few minutes until the world stopped spinning. Neither of us was seriously hurt,
just a little bruised.
After a total of eleven trailers we declared victory. Ravaged by the exertion and stress of
the week, we were relieved that we only had one hectare of cabernet sauvignon and our
Saussignac dessert wine left to do.
Later that day we heard two vignerons had been killed in a tragic accident. The father and
son were suffocated by carbon dioxide in a subterranean vat in their winery that morning.
They lived down in the valley a few kilometres from us; we could see their property from
