images by Christopher Sawyer

I expected them to scatter. But as we got closer they paid no attention to us. They were too busy chomping away at the green stuff planted between the vineyard rows: gourmet grasses, wild flowers and their favorite treat - the spiky Yellow Star Thistle.

Collins explained the idea behind using chickens is based on the concept of biodiversity. The chickens eat the natural material, process it, then put it back as a rich type of, well, specialized manure. Eventually the manure and cover crops are softly tilled into the ground and serve as a natural soil fertilizer. In springtime, packed with powerful nutrients, the mixture acts like a sort of alarm clock, waking the vines and energizing them from their dormant winter snooze.

"For quality wine, grapes should be an expression of the soil and the vineyards where they?re grown," Collins says. "Using synthetic chemicals means there?s something missing from the wine as far as authenticity or natural personality is concerned."

Certified as organic in January 2003, Tablas Creek Vineyards is a member of a new wave of premium U.S. wine producers recognizing the benefits of using old-fashioned farming methods. The concept is simple: work closely with nature instead of against it.

By definition, organic agriculture refers to fruit, vegetable and other food products cultivated without the use of toxic pesticides, herbicides and synthetic fertilizers. Like a touch of TLC from Mother Nature, the main goal is to build healthy soil and healthy plants, and to protect the surrounding environment and workers in the most natural way possible.

Over the past decade, more than 15,000 vineyard acres in the U.S. have been farmed organically, an amazing increase from only 200 acres in 1989. California is a hotspot for this movement. There are nearly 7,000 acres of certified vineyards planted by 113 producers in the state. Many others do it without applying for certification. "No compromise!" is the shared bravado.

Gettin? Down With Nature

Okay, let?s set things straight. The general problem with synthetic chemicals is that they eat the natural nutrients and minerals in the soil. Conversely, the organic approach adds natural resiliency to the soil, thus strengthening the plants.

To make this happen, organic soils are nourished with a variety of natural ingredients, like cover crops, manure and powerful compost made with recycled materials such as pomace (grape skins), straw and other landscape debris. The idea is to have as much commotion - otherwise known as energy from microorganisms - moving around in the soil as possible. Near the vineyards, flowers, herbs, vegetables and fruit trees are planted to create additional activity that?ll benefit the native flora and fauna. In other words, it?s all about raw material, baby!

John Williams, winemaker at Frog?s Leap Wine Cellars in Napa Valley, is a true believer in the power of organic farming. All vineyards comprising the Frog Farm property have been certified organic since 1999.

Williams offers this analogy, which addresses use of conventional chemicals as a "quick fix" in the old days: "It?s like if your kids are on a soda and candy bar diet: response is impressive, sustainability is not. Our goal is to make sure that our soil has a balanced diet at all times. Financially and as far as quality is concerned, it?s a very viable situation."

While sustainable farming practices have quickly caught on with many grape growers, controlling pesky weeds remains a main obstacle that keeps many from taking the organic plunge. As a result, most grape growers still rely on annihilating the green material with toxic products.

Organic producers, however, have found ways of getting around this. Techniques include mulching vineyard rows to suppress weeds; using the pyrotechnical alternative ("fire, fire!" as Beavis once said) to burn them with propane torches; or employing small tractors with soft rubber bumpers to cut the weeds without harming the vines.

Another difficult matter has been the ongoing battle with insects that can cause serious vine damage. However, instead of using harmful conventional sprays, organic converts focus on creating unique insectaries that feature a variety of flowers, shrubs and trees. The idea is to attract beneficial insects that?ll eat the problematic vine pests.

The birthplace of this organic wine movement was California?s Mendocino County. Today, more than 3,000 acres of grapes grown in the county are farmed organically.

Charlie Barra, whose family owns the Barra and Girasole brands of organic wine, has been working with grapes in Redwood Valley since he was just nine years old. "Most of us were farming organically for as long as I can remember," said Barra, 78. "We couldn?t afford chemicals back then, and we still don?t need them today. There just wasn?t a name to call this practice until the last 25 years."

While Redwood Valley?s Frey Vineyards was one of the first to have certified vineyards in the U.S., it was the more recognizable brand - Fetzer Vineyards - that ultimately became the prototype for sustainable agriculture in the mid-1980s. In 1989, Fetzer began its eco-friendly commitment by converting 1,600 vineyard acres to organic.

Until recently, the concept of organic wines left a sour impression on critics and consumers. Most of this was due to bad winemaking or bottling techniques. But thanks to new, innovative farming methods, including reducing the amount of water used, minimizing crop load and hand harvesting, as well as new technology used in the winemaking process, the overall quality of wines - both organic and conventional - have improved significantly in the past decade. As a result, the lingering hippy cliche or "stigma" commonly associated with organic wines has started to fade, being replaced instead with images of more racy, premium style wine.

Moon Mountain Vineyards, located on the rugged Mayacamas mountain range overlooking Sonoma Valley, began its conversion to organic farming techniques in 1998. Winemaker Randall Watkins has been impressed with how much more concentrated the fruit flavors have become since chemicals are no longer used. "The vineyard now speaks for itself," Watkins says.

Signs of such producers? success are evident in the marketplace. For example, Whole Foods, Cost Plus and specialty wine shops now feature organic wine sections on their shelves that cater to a growing number of environmentally conscious consumers.

Want to know more? Read Nudist Camp Part II in the next issue.

* Sulfites are natural by-products of fermentation. It?s impossible to have no sulfites in wine. However, winemakers can choose not to add sulfur (which eventually turns into sulfites) to their wines during the winemaking process, thus minimizing the amount of sulfites in the finished product.

Eco-Friendly Ladybugs

Lolonis Winery, located in Mendocino?s Redwood Valley, farms 250 acres of organic vineyards, including a large number of old, gnarly vine plantings of zinfandel, petite sirah and carignane. The saving graces on the property have been ladybugs.

Each year, Lolonis purchases millions of these little critters and releases them in the vineyards to combat harmful pests. "We?re looking for consistent quality and not variability," says Philip Lolonis, a third-generation member of the Greek family that planted the original vines in the 1950s. "We?ve harnessed the power of the ladybug to help us get there. They?re not only cute, but very effective!"

Cycling the Tour de France has been likened to running 20 marathons in 20 days. I?m pretty sure I couldn?t run one marathon in 20 days.

Yet there I was, under the blistering sun of Provence, slowly pedaling my way up one of the most dreaded, soul-crushing climbs of last year?s Tour: Mont Ventoux. What lured me to that beast of a hill was a longing to do more than just watch the Tour de France. I wanted to experience the Tour de France. I yearned to ride the very roads that, just hours later, would be chewed up by Lance Armstrong, Laurent Jalabert and Joseba Beloki. I wanted to white-knuckle it down the same hairpin turns, and be cheered on by the giddy spectators who?d camped out for days, waiting for that colorful tsunami of Spandex to speed by. Basically, I hungered for a taste of what the world?s most grueling sporting event really felt like.

That?s what landed me, my husband and 13 others on a Tour de France cycling trip with Backroads, an adventure travel company. The plan was to follow the last third of the three-week race as the riders whizzed their way past the lavender fields of Provence, up the mythical Alps and down the cobblestoned Champs-Elysées in Paris. Along the way, we?d stay in four-star hotels, consume obscene amounts of French fare and work off those calories by cycling 40 to 60 miles a day (except during the trip?s three rest days). We?d get to bike some of the most memorable segments of Tour de France routes. We?d also tackle short sections of last year?s course, a torturous 2,032-mile journey.

?How hard can this be?? I naively wondered as I sat on my couch, lazily thumbing through a Backroads catalog. ?It?s not like we?re doing the whole Tour. Just part of it.?

But that ?part? happened to be the part with the mountains. Big, colossal, mammoth mountains.

Even so, I saw this as a once-in-a-lifetime experience. If the prognosticators were right, I?d be witnessing Lance Armstrong pedal his way into the history books, becoming the first American ever to win six Tours. I?d be right there, literally, on Armstrong?s road to victory. Mountains, shmountains, I reassured myself. I?m 34 years old; I take spinning classes. I?ll be just as good as anyone else on the Backroads trip.

I knew I miscalculated that last part as soon as I got a glimpse of the other Backroads travelers. Most of the men?s legs were shaved closer than mine. This meant there was either a disproportionate number of transvestites on the trip, or these were some serious cyclists. It turned out to be the latter, which meant my husband and I were destined to play the role of lanterne rouge, the red lantern that hangs from the back of a train. It?s Tour-speak for ?the slowpokes.?

But unlike the Tour, this was a vacation, not a competition. At least that?s what I kept telling myself as I crawled up Mont Ventoux, which I think is French for ?makes you curl up in a ball and cry for Mommy.? The 6,273-foot mountain juts out of the Provençal landscape like a giant tumor; and this tumor is anything but benign. Comedian and cycling aficionado Robin Williams summed it up this way: ?Even the mountain goats don?t like it.?

Ventoux is a relentlessly steep 13-mile climb to the barren, lunar-like summit, where exhausted British cyclist Tom Simpson keeled over and died during the 1967 Tour. As I started to wonder if the same fate might await me, a burly Frenchman with a moustache as big as my handlebars decided I needed a little pep talk.

?Allez! Allez!? he repeatedly shouted in my ear as I crept up the mountain in granny gear. My French friend was telling me to ?Go! Go!? which was what I wished he would do, since sweat was stinging my eyes, my legs felt like the beleaguered stage during ?Riverdance? and the last thing I wanted was a hairy cheerleader.

But his words pushed me on, if only to put a little more distance between me and his Burgundy-infused breath.

I?d hear the ?Allez! Allez!? refrain countless more times from the throngs of onlookers who?d staked out their spot on the mountain, waiting for the Tour to wheel by in a few hours. Folks like me were merely the warm-up act.

We all know the French are very good at some things (food) and not so good at others (war). But they?re extremely adept at the high art of tailgating. When they weren?t rooting on amateur cyclists like me, they killed time by sipping wine, nibbling on brie and baguettes, playing cards and painting riders? names on the street.

At my heady speed of 4 mph, I had ample time to witness all of these pre-race festivities. It became clear that, to the French, the Tour is much more than a sporting event. It, like Jerry Lewis, is a cultural phenomenon. Unlike Jerry, it?s easy to understand the Tour?s appeal. This is a race packed with more drama than a Jerry Springer show, and with at least as much potential for bloodshed. Catastrophic crashes. Drug raids. Cheating. Smack talking. Not to mention jaw-dropping displays of athleticism. It?s hard to imagine just how much pain these guys put themselves through until you?ve sampled some of it firsthand.

Mont Ventoux is a kick-in-the-teeth climb, even when you?re cycling it with fresh legs like we were. But the Tour racers had logged 120 miles that day before broaching the base of Ventoux. And they still managed to go up it faster than I went down it. How?s that for an ego-deflater?

It truly is a humbling experience to watch more than 150 Tour riders sail up the very road you just cycled. They make it look so easy. But your burning quads and aching back remind you that it?s not.

I thought cycling Ventoux would leave me too exhausted to cheer on the racers. But one glimpse of that Texan wearing the coveted yellow leader?s jersey had the effect of a dozen espressos. There he was. Lance Armstrong ? cancer survivor, cyclist extraordinaire ? about an arm?s length away from me, plowing up the very mountain that made my legs feel like overcooked fettuccine. Despite being chased by a pack of cyclists who wanted nothing more than to strip that golden jersey off his back and feed it to him in tiny pieces, he looked more serene than I do in a bubble bath.

Other racers gulped oxygen like frat boys chug beer. But Armstrong seemed to be barely breathing while he pumped his pedals like pistons. I knew I was watching an über-athlete in action. I had a front row seat at the Tour de Lance, and I?d earned it. At the top of my overworked lungs, I shouted the words I?d once heard from a wise, mustachioed Frenchman: ?Allez! Allez!?