The Charlottesville 29

I have many flaws (just ask around), and, until recently, one of my biggest was never having visited Ankida Ridge. It’s an American treasure just 60 miles from Charlottesville that I’ve longed to visit, but never found the time.

This time of year, though, the drive is no deterrent. The mesmerizing colors on the winding country roads may make you wish the drive were longer.

And what a destination.

While gratitude can enhance any life experience, some places foster it by their sheer existence. Gazing down from Ankida Ridge’s 1,800-foot perch, it is impossible not to be moved. The magnitude and complexity of the splendor below defy human understanding. Ancient rock becomes soil. Countless microorganisms sustain life through chemical reactions too numerous to comprehend. Water, carbon, and nutrients circulate through processes that, over millions of years, have converged to produce this particular landscape at this particular time.

And then there’s the fact that these same processes somehow produced minds capable of appreciating their product. Given the improbability of our existence, that we should find ourselves here, at this moment, is extraordinary luck. That we can also behold beauty eludes understanding.

Into the void, awe floods in. And with it, gratitude.

Gratitude in a Glass

There’s another sense in which Ankida Ridge manifests gratitude. One measure of gratitude for a gift is what we do with it. If you thank a friend for a gift and then promptly throw it in the trash, they may doubt your sincerity.

When Christine and Dennis Vrooman bought the Amherst, Virginia mountain property in 1999, they soon realized what a gift they had. The Virginia Beach couple had intended to build a retirement retreat, and had no plans for a vineyard.

But when the excavator cleared forest for their house, he cleared more than needed, leaving the Vroomans with a decision about what to do with it. Their good fortune in discovering a place they named “Ankida” – where heaven and earth meet – inspired them to find the best use for it.

As they considered options, they brought in ampelographer Lucie Morton to assess planting a vineyard. Not only did she support it, she recommended doing something almost unheard of in Virginia: grow Pinot Noir. Morton thought the land’s unusual terroir – cool, rocky, and steep – would be well-suited for the grape best known for France’s Burgundy region.

Smart move. Ankida Ridge Pinot Noir won almost instant accolades and is now so acclaimed that the Vroomans’ sliver of Virginia has been dubbed Little Burgundy. I often pick up a trace of smoke in the earthiness of a great Pinot Noir, and Ankida Ridge is no exception. On top of that is the characteristic dark cherry, bright red fruit, and silky texture.

The Gift of Soil

Even the labels pay tribute to the land for which the Vroomans are so grateful. Ankida Ridge’s beauty and its wines owe themselves to the same thing: soil. Formed over millenia on one of the world’s oldest mountain ranges, the soil itself is beautiful. Labels by Watermark Design display a slide of the soil: weathered igneous rock of charnockite granite and its mineral complexity.

What could be a more fitting tribute? The same ancient earth that gives us the setting gives us the wine. And each bottle bears a reminder of the gift.