Chapter 35: Harvest (3)

TL: Hanguk

The Agricultural Extension Office (UC Davis Cooperative Extension) was located not far from the school athletic field where I had taken the call. Since Pierce knew I attended UC Davis, it was easy for him to tell me to come here. If that weren’t the case, in a country as vast as the United States, it wouldn’t be easy to have a twenty-year-old kid drive for hours back and forth.

“Hello!”

Since it was a place I’d been to once before, I greeted the staff member familiarly, and Elisa Chen, the agricultural outreach and support coordinator, smiled and pointed inward.

“Yes, Mr. Pierce is waiting for you.”

“Thank you.”

When I stepped into Mr. Pierce’s office, he had just been pulling out some documents, and he smiled when he saw me.

“You came right away.”

"I happened to not have left school yet."

“Come over and sit.”

I set the bag I’d brought down beside me and sat on the sofa. Mr. Pierce brought over a large map, set it down on the table, and spoke.

“It’s harvest season now. How is it? Are you doing well?”

"Yes. I think we'll start harvesting soon."

“And you’re managing water stress well?”

“Of course.”

Nodding, he stacked a number of miscellaneous special-purpose maps on top of the regular map in layers. Aerial photos, a soil survey map, slope and aspect analysis, a fire-risk grid, and even the smoke dispersion path from this wildfire.

Pierce Morgan hung his jacket on the back of the chair and aimed between the maps with his pen.

“Alright, Brian. Originally there were more, but you specifically asked me to show you only the land that took direct damage from the wildfire, so today there are three places. Naturally, the price is down 30 to 40% compared to usual. Do you know what that means?”

“It could be a good opportunity. But people don’t prefer it.”

“The reason?”

“Because for at least three to four years, they won’t be able to generate revenue.”

At my words, he gave a satisfied smile.

“You know well. Yes, they’re all areas that were hit by the fire as is. You have to buy seedlings and plant them, and for them to grow well enough to bring in commercial income, quite a long time has to pass. But if it weren’t for that reason, this is land that wouldn’t come on the market.”

“Because of that reason, I think I’m the most suitable. I’m the one who can make the best use of the land better than anyone.”

At that tremendous confidence, Pierce Morgan let out a dry laugh. It was, in a way, a mystery that a kid who was only twenty years old could show such confidence in farming, where experience is prioritized above anything else.

He pointed with the tip of his pen at a part of the map and said.

“Alright. First, at the northern end of Napa, the first one is 14 acres on the south-facing slope of the Calistoga AVA (American Viticultural Area). The slope is 5 to 12 degrees, and the soil is a 7-to-3 ratio of Bale loam and gravelly loam, with a lot of gravel, so drainage is fast. So after it rains, it doesn’t turn into a mud pit. And the planting is... I don’t need to tell you, do I?”

"No. I'll have to replant anyway."

Throughout his explanation, Pierce kept stealing glances at my reactions, as if he were sizing up an opponent across a Go board. He seemed curious whether I understood what the information I’d just heard meant. But I deliberately didn’t comment on that.

Lowering the pen that pointed at the map a bit, he said.

“Next is the Bale AVA. 20 acres. The slope is 5 to 8 degrees. More than 80% of the soil is Bale loam. You were looking for under 20 acres, and this place fits perfectly. It was one of the most heavily damaged places in this fire. So it’s the cheapest one on the market.”

I didn’t even ask the price.

“What about the other places?”

At my attitude that I had no interest in that land at all, Pearson asked.

“Why? The price is cheap and the land is wide.”

“First, I want to know the other places.”

In fact, what I disliked the most was the land. The “Bale” mentioned here is a proper noun named after the local Bale area, and it’s fairly good soil, deep and uniform, with some clay mixed in. Still, you could think of it as an all-around loam that does well not only for Cabernet Sauvignon but also for other varieties like Merlot and Chardonnay.

If we compare it to a soccer player, maybe it’s a hexagonal player? But what I was looking for was soil optimized for Cabernet Sauvignon, so it was out.

“...Alright. Lastly, this one isn’t far from your farm. North of the Silveroak AVA, Block 18 acres. The slope is 6 to 15 degrees. The ratio of Bale to gravelly loam is about 4 to 6. This one isn’t an auction, it’s listed at a fixed price.”

“How much is the price?”

When I showed interest for the first time and asked the price, Pearson’s eyes lit up.

“1.3 million dollars.”

“That’s expensive.”

“It’s 30% cheaper than usual.”

“The land burned to the ground. We won’t be able to generate revenue for more than three years, and if it’s Cabernet Sauvignon, we have to add another two to three years on top of that.”

“Don’t try to persuade me. You need to persuade the landowner.”

The landowner would be Elowen, and if I tried to persuade him, he might never want to sell. So I had to persuade Pearson more.

“It’s a distressed sale, so it’ll usually start below 70% of market price, but only two parcels under 20 acres that were seized for auction due to a large wildfire have come out. Add Silveroak, and that makes three in total. Then bidders have more choices, so the price has to drop further. Above all, bidders have to take on the risk of fire damage and also budget an enormous restoration cost on top of that.”

“Doesn’t seem like it’ll be enormous. A significant portion is covered under wildfire damage recovery items.”

I complained once, but as expected, Pearson didn’t let it slide easily.

“They don’t compensate 100%, do they? Either way, we have to carry these risk factors and struggle for over three years for it to become usable land. Will anyone really buy it at 70% of the price?”

“So what price do you want?”

“One million dollars.”

“You’re going to slash it by nearly half?”

I grinned and put on a pitiful expression.

“Please put in a good word for me. The farm owner will want to dispose of it quickly and turn it into cash anyway. With the wildfire, everyone’s still rattled. Who’s going to show up easily to take over that land? If time passes, no one will even touch it and it’ll keep getting more and more desolate, won’t it? And it’s not like a cash-strapped Silver Oak farm owner could restore that, either?”

If they had the ability, that land wouldn’t have been listed for sale. Elowen was probably rushing around trying to get rid of smoke-exposed grapes somehow, even at a bargain price, but since that wasn’t easy and it wouldn’t make money, it was clear he was trying to get through the crisis by selling off the land first, land that would take a huge effort to revive.

And as the Agricultural Extension Office, they would also hope that such good land would be sold quickly to someone and start generating revenue again.

“I’ll talk to them. But what about the funds?”

“Of course, with a loan... I took over Redwood Farm before as an SDA (socially disadvantaged) borrower.”

When I grinned, he let out a dry laugh.

“Well, sure... The Farm Service Agency (FSA) can lend directly, so part of the land acquisition can be done at a low interest rate. Since you’re already registered in the SDA (socially disadvantaged) program, you’ll probably be able to get preferential review. But even so, it’ll be lacking, won’t it?”

“Come on, there’s the Emergency Farm Loan for disaster areas. This is included in a disaster area declared by the federal government, isn’t it?”

This time, even Pearson was surprised, his eyes widening as he stared at me.

“You know that too?”

“Of course. I already looked it up. That if I just prove overall repayment capacity, I can do the two as a package at the same time. And I think it’s definitely possible with the revenue earned from vinegar in less than a year. The winery also has cherry wine ready, so I can explain it sufficiently.”

"Amazing... Alright. I'll try talking to them."

“Thank you.”

“You don’t need to be that grateful. The deal only happens if the landowner approves it. We’ll probably need a bit of adjustment from one million dollars.”

“I can accept some of that.”

“Ah, and by the way. Why did you choose Silveroak? Because it’s close?”

After thinking for a moment, I answered only enough for him to understand.

“I saw it in a book that gravelly loam is good for Cabernet Sauvignon.”

“As expected... You know that too.”

If I said I was going to completely turn over all the soil there and rebuild an optimal terroir (Terroir: not just the soil where grapes grow, but the entire natural environment of a specific region) from scratch, they’d look at me like I was a crazy guy.

Even within Napa Valley, the price of Cabernet Sauvignon of the same variety can differ by several times, and that’s because of terroir, and I intended to create an entirely new land on soil that had burned in the wildfire.

On the way home, I worked my brain hard on how to persuade Dad. I thought he might be a little surprised, but I was sure he would give permission.

***

Silver Oak Farm.

“What? One million dollars?”

Elowen gritted his teeth. To think he had to sell land he had worked so hard to cultivate at nearly half the price, a bargain price, his stomach wasn't just burning, it was aching. But he couldn't hold out stubbornly either, because when he thought about the money that needed to go out from this year's revenue, everything looked bleak.

Every year, the costs that went out, from hiring people to, at the very least, his daughter’s tuition, to the principal and interest on the real estate loan, were considerable. The entire operating plan for those funds had to be covered with the money earned from farming each year, but last year was ruined by organic farming and this year was ruined by the wildfire.

The blow was beyond words.

“I can’t sell it that cheaply.”

But the realtor’s voice coming from the other end of the receiver was calm and languid.

“Yes. I’m just relaying the buyer’s position that was delivered through the Department of Agriculture. You can wait until a buyer appears who offers a higher price. But for your reference, just know that there’s hardly anyone showing interest in farms right now.”

At the unenthusiastic tone, as if every choice was up to him, Elowen grew all the more desperate. Unlike ordinary land, an AVA was land you could only buy if you had a business plan that included the passion and experience to grow grapes, so it wasn’t like a house where if you waited leisurely a buyer would definitely appear.

“By when do I have to give you an answer?”

“The sooner, the better. If the buyer takes interest in other land...”

“Give me time. Ten days... please wait just ten days.”

“Understood. I’ll pass that along.”

After hanging up, Elowen bit his lip. If, over the next ten days, he could liquidate the smoke-exposed Cabernet Sauvignon even at a bargain price, he could hang on a little longer. The best case would be if it became material for spirits, which aren’t greatly affected even if exposed to smoke, but that wasn’t easy either, because it’s not like there were only one or two tons of smoke-exposed grapes in Sonoma and Napa.

That was precisely why, realistically, disposal and then filing for compensation was the best choice.

“Damn it...”

Elowen thought he might have to make a decision. One million dollars was by no means a small amount.

***

In early October, as the weather turned distinctly chilly, I went up the hill from dawn as usual, picked a grape, and put it in my mouth. The sugar level had risen enough that I could clearly feel the sweetness of the juice in my mouth, with a refreshing acidity lingering, and I could feel how abundant the juice was.

I spat the seed into my hand to check it. It was brown and firm, and when I chewed one, it had quite a nutty feel. After forming a faint smile, I shouted to Dad standing back there.

“Dad, it’s tomorrow!”

“Yeah? Then from now?”

“Yes, for one day.”

Just one day. Dad and I decided to match SWP minus 14, close to water-cutting. The time for harvest was approaching. And as if it had been waiting, a message arrived.

-The Silver Oak farm owner contacted us saying he’ll make the deal at 1.1 million dollars.

Smiling, I replied that I understood, then grabbed a plump cluster of well-ripened, dark red grapes in my hand and muttered.

“Just hold on for one day, just one day.”