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Published: August 11th 2011
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Mendoza is a highly mischievous place, and the instigator is chief in Mr Hugo, proprietor of ´Bikes and Wines´. His venture was advertised in our hostel, but we had already heard tales back in Bariloche of his exuberant character and free-flowing wine. His business is on the wine circuit in Maipu, a region producing 60% of Argentina´s wine (and an even greater proportion of its exports), which in turn is the world´s 5th largest wine producer. The majority of vineyards sprawl over the flatter lands and lower hills of Maipu, at 800 metres above sea level. This is red wine territory - many of the white grapes are harvested at a higher altitude, though one of our favourite wines back home comes from the vines planted by Nicolas Catena Zapeta at 5,000 metres. Unfortunately, we´re not within range of his vineyards today. The Andes provide a stunning backdrop to our journey.
We have a bit of a palava getting to the wine region - a wrong bus takes us to the wrong part of Maipu, and it takes a few enquiries to get us back on track. It seems that, while Mr Hugo is infamous among Mendoza´s tourists, he is
less well known among the locals. But we get off our second bus within 100m from Mr Hugo´s, and arrive just in time for a lunchtime glass of wine. It comes in a plastic cup from a huge jug, and is served with a beaming smile. Mr Hugo doesn´t speak English, and he doesn´t need to. We´re shown a map of the local bodegas (wineries), and given vouchers from discounts here and there. He feels up our cups again before going off to fetch us a couple of bikes. We pootle off, wondering how Mr Hugo came up with the name of his business.
Armed with our maps, we pedal our way to one of the bodegas which we´ve been told does a good lunch. It´s a cruisy 8-10k cycle long flat, tree-lined roads. The trees part every now and again to reveal small settlements of evidently poor communities - a poverty that isn´t as apparent in the city centres.
On arriving at our small bodega we park up at the dedicated bike rack. We order our lunch before taking up the offer of a tour and tasting. We poke our heads inside the beehive-like concrete wine tanks
which now store the hand-labelled bottles as they are aged , take the sprial steps down to the humid cellars which house the American and French oak barrels, and enjoy a lesson in Argentinian viticulture. The tasting takes us through young, unoaked Malbecs to their older, more fulsome and complex ancestors. It´s good stuff - not knockout, but perfectly plesaurable as an early evening drink (we´ve decided to work on UK time for the purposes of the tour, to make it seem slightly more reasonable - otherwise we´d be drinking wine before lunch). We pick the best of the bunch to enjoy with our lunch, over which we scan the map to plan which bodegas to visit next. There´s a good mix - from the family run small scale venture such as this to the more industrial sized outfits of Trapiche or Finca Flichman, whose produce we recognise from home. After our second stop we worry that somebody must have fiddled with our bikes´mechanics - they´re distinctly wobblier than earlier in the day. Our third stop is our favourite - a beautiful terrace, a free tour, and the best wine. We decide there to make it our last bodega, and
make our way on to the obligatory last lap stop of the beer garden. The route takes us past numerous police patrols, plausibly stationed ready to apprehend the most innebriated. But we have been pre-briefed that that is not their function. They´re the tourist police, whose flashing lights escort wonky trails of bikes back to Mr Hugos, keeping other road-users alert to the potential unpredictable manoeuvers of the cyclists, and presumably to ward off the threat of potential aggressors who might feasibly see tiddly tourists as easy pickings.
Mr Hugo welcomes us back with an open arm. His other firmly grasps the newly replenished jug of red wine, which he insists on pouring into fresh plastic cups. He implores us to stay for as long as we like and, when we finally take our leave, he waves us off on the bus as if we were dearly departing family. What have we had to pay for the day´s hire and free-flowing wine? A fiver, and probably a stonking headache. But we´re grateful to him for making our last Argentinian adventure a memorable one. Tomorrow we head to Chile.
P.S. For the conniseurs wanting tips from what we have
learnt: i) 2005 the best vintage for Maipu Malbec, ii) Alba Tempus the producer to look out for back home, iii) don´t try pulling huge skids with your front brake after going on a wine tour.
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