When temperatures plummeted to -30 Celsius in the Okanagan between January 11 and 15 this year, winemakers knew it was bad. Vines froze throughout the 250-kilometre-long valley, affecting virtually every grower and winery. Whispers began about the industry dying along with the vines. Could already-struggling wineries—pandemic, fires, a heat dome, floods, landslides, another deep freeze last winter—take another hit? By late spring, the widespread damage was clear. Almost all the buds were dead. The 2024 harvest was decimated.
“We have no crop this year,” says Val Tait, winemaker and general manager at Gold Hill Winery. That’s echoed by just about every grower and winemaker in the Okanagan. Friends of Christine Coletta, co-owner of Okanagan Crush Pad, called her to say, “I don’t know if I’m going to make it.” Just 1 to 3 per cent of the usual harvest is expected.
“We’ve really been put through the wringer as an industry,” Coletta says. “We are all farmers, and we’re pretty stoic.”
No one in the Okanagan is unscathed in this latest loss that affects the entire B.C. wine industry (and the $3.75 billion it contributes annually to the province’s economy). Of the 1,234 vineyards in B.C., 86 per cent are in the Okanagan Valley (followed by 6 per cent in the Similkameen Valley, which was also devastated). The B.C. wine industry’s eggs are all in one basket, says Gene Covert of Covert Farms Family Estate—more than 90 per cent of B.C. grapes come from the Okanagan.
There is a bright side. While bud death was pervasive, many of the vines survived. Still, plants had to be ripped out and replanted (a multiyear process until the first grapes can be harvested). Covert describes the holes in his vineyard as missing teeth. “This is going to be a learning year,” he says. “There are a lot of research projects looking at why did this vineyard survive and this one didn’t.” He’s participating in one project focused on mitigating climate change, from viticulture management to varietal selection (part of the federal Agricultural Climate Solutions—Living Labs program). “The industry will be much more resilient after this. It’s going to take a few years, though.”
As wineries try to make sense of the damage, they’re also navigating the business side of survival. “The industry is definitely going through a lot of changes right now and a bit of soul searching,” Covert says. Some wineries had crop insurance and limited government assistance (including $70 million in a replanting program), but there are also many For Sale signs around the region. Consumer support of B.C. wines—especially existing stock from the Okanagan and Similkameen—is paramount. “Continue to buy those wines, continue to support them when you’re out dining, and come visit us,” Coletta says. “That’s the number-one thing we need.”
But with things in flux, wineries have had to adapt. “We’re used to pivoting and changing direction,” Coletta says. That’s taken different forms with the industry-wide desolation this year, from cooperative-style initiatives importing grapes from south of the border in Washington and Oregon to rethinking farming methods (such as planting cover crops that, among other benefits, help insulate vines in freezing temperatures) and introducing new hybrid varietals. People are also talking about long-dormant ideas—establishing a nationwide VQA, for example. While some winemakers deride transporting grapes across the country and from entirely different terroirs, others think using Canadian-only fruit strengthens the domestic wine industry overall.
“Although it’s financially devastating, there is something so authentic about a missing bottle in a vertical lineup that reminds us first and foremost we are growers.” —Val Tait, Gold Hill Winery
Evan Saunders of Blasted Church Vineyards is one of the many winemakers sourcing grapes from Washington (which happens to have a surplus this year). He’s secured contracts in the climatically and geographically similar Horse Heaven Hills AVA (American Viticultural Area) to replace this year’s nonexistent harvest. To keep his staff and produce a 2024 vintage, he was willing to switch the winery’s licence from land-based (B.C.-only grapes) to commercial (out-of-province grapes)—an onerous and usually prohibitively expensive process—but the B.C. government subsequently came through with a year-long importing exemption for estate wineries.
“Obviously, the reason that we’re doing it is not ideal,” Saunders says. “It’s a pretty sad state of affairs up here—with all the death and bud damage in the vineyards and everything else—but I think we’ve found a good way to move forward, make sure we keep our team employed, and keep putting wine into bottles.” (Those bottles of wine made with Washington grapes will, of course, be clearly labelled.)
But many are adamant about sticking to B.C. fruit for B.C. wines. “About half the industry is staying with 100 per cent B.C. fruit only, and the other half is importing fruit from outside B.C. to cover the grape loss,” Tait says. “Although it’s a huge financial hit, we strongly believe in an industry that has been founded and nurtured on our terroir. Allowing fruit from other regions will undermine our B.C. brand long term, I believe, because if we are not about place, then what are we about?”
Volatility is part of the region’s character, she argues. “Although it’s financially devastating, there is something so authentic about a missing bottle in a vertical lineup that reminds us first and foremost we are growers.”
Covert, a third-generation farmer, feels similarly. “We kind of hung our hat on being an estate winery and certified organic.” He won’t import grapes either and as a small-scale, family-run business is “just going to keep the brand intact and move forward. If we run out of wine, I guess we’ll run out of wine.”
Yet younger and less-established wineries don’t have the inventory, name recognition, or loyal consumer base to skip a vintage. They need to maintain momentum and continuity. Others, like Covert, already scaled back after last year’s setback of a travel ban due to wildfires and closed their tasting rooms. Some, like Coletta, have stepped back from winemaking for a year and diversified. With a distillery licence, Okanagan Crush Pad has introduced a hard iced tea and sparkling haskap lemonade.
“People are coming up with lots of different programs to get them through this period,” Coletta says. And retain the staff who sustain the local economy. “That’s one challenge that the entire industry is looking at: how do we keep these talented winemakers who are dedicated to and passionate about making B.C. wine? We have to keep them engaged, or we’re going to lose them to different territories.”
While many estate wineries in the industry are temporarily outsourcing grapes simply to survive, large corporate wineries have long had commercial licences and imported fruit or juice. Those bigger players have a different mindset, Tait says—one that’s not always aligned with independent wineries. As Saunders notes, they have their own resources and support systems in place. “They don’t need to really look outward to find solutions,” unlike midsized Blasted Church (“microscopic” on the global scale, Saunders says) and smaller wineries.
People looking at the wine industry from the outside see big glamorous estates, legacy projects, and billions of dollars, he adds, but that level of investment—“shrines to wines”—is not the reality for most wineries. It’s the camaraderie and “banding together to push through” that keeps him going. “On the ground, it’s quite a collaborative industry,” says Covert, who compares notes with a diverse group of growers and viticulturists—from all sizes of wineries—during the Living Labs field day.
It’s why this year’s calamity won’t be the demise of the industry, Coletta says. After almost 30 years of working in the Okanagan wine industry, Tait also remains optimistic. “Other global regions have historically experienced significant crop losses, but they were able to persevere and maintain their industry, so I have high hopes for our recovery.” Resilience is a refrain, something Saunders jokes about: “We’re resilient gluttons for punishment.”
And despite moments of doubt and dissension amid the devastation, Coletta’s response to those demoralized colleagues is unequivocal: “You’re going to make it out the other end of this,” she insists. “I think, as an industry, collectively we’re going to survive this.”
Read more from our Autumn 2024 issue.
