Boggled for Bogle

Bridge Out. Follow Detour Arrows.

Uh-oh.

So, Matt and Erin Cline are hosting their annual Duck Paella Party in celebration of their fall release of a Chardonnay and a Carignane (“Kerrigan,” as some of the Oakley growers call it) from a Lucchesi property in our neck of the ‘hoods. It was one year ago that, Erin, having spent much time on the phone with me for our blog, hooked me up with her husband so that I could get the lowdown on the Cline family connection to our local ag. Erin then invited Kathy and me to their clambake in Clarksburg, where we joined their wine club, and have been toasting Matt’s family roots and enduring commitment to Oakley’s remaining rootstock eversince.

Oh, man, but something happened last Saturday. Now, it had actually gotten to the fact that I no longer needed directions to get to the Old Sugar Mill, the home to several artisan wineries, including 3. You pay your $5 toll to cross a bridge near Oakley, drive along levees that everyone thinks are about to explode, bypass Isleton (unless you absolutely MUST stop for crawdads), then take one of the drawbridges across the Sacramento River in order to take two more bridges along the highway, past Bogle Winery, then 3 at the Mill.

Bridge Out. Follow Detour Arrows.

I was completely flummoxed. Crossing this first of two bridges was the only way I knew how to get to 3, and Bogle, which we always visited down the road before our jaunt chez Erin and Matt.

OK, I misread the detour instructions: I turned left, leading us on a pavement loop that had me hyperventilating every time that I could not see a bridge that needed to get us across the river, heading in the opposite direction, where we needed to be. I am not good at Kathy calls “adventures.”

We drive a Prius on our wine “adventures,” and it was apparent that my “detour” had severely depleted the tank.

My left turn detour brought us right back, 25 minutes later, finally finding a river-crossing bridge, to the original closure. Ouch.

Tony Tuned Out. Follow Arrows Shooting out of Kathy’s Eyes.

It wasn’t until Kath insisted that we needed petrol that we found our way to Clarksburg, on the other side of the river. I, a dude, actually asked for directions to Clarksburg; good thing, too, because the second bridge was closed, as well. Only the third would get us where we needed to go.

But then we missed it.

Oh sure, we got to 3wine company. Erin and Matt and Kelly were in fine form; the duck paella was nummers; digging the Chard and Kerrigan. Proud to be club members; can’t wait for what is next.

And, somehow, don’t know why ---- might be approaching them from the opposite direction; signage one way, not the other? ---- we missed Bogle. Now here is a high-volume winery that never fails to amaze us with bottlings that you will never find sharing supermarket shelf real estate.

And, if you don’t visit, you will never see the kitties.
Check out K’s photo; one of the cats had her paw mangled, but is now a beloved (especially by us) winery kitty. FYI wineries: If you don’t have one, you need to.

Ours will spill on a bathmat, beg to be swirled, curl up on a curved surface and stain a beautiful piece of loved furniture.
Wine? Kitty?
You tell me.