There’s something about Keuka.

Here’s a fact that some people find counterintuitive; the Finger Lakes flow north, through various rivers to Lake Ontario and then on via the St. Lawrence river to the North Atlantic. There’s no reason this should be a surprise, water finds its level and does not care whether “south” on a map appears to many of us to be “down”. Still, I always take a moment to orient myself to this fact on a map of the region. But did you know there’s an exception to this? The west branch of Keuka flows south until it rounds the bluff and turns north. I’ve been assured by an apparently educated young man working at Bully Hill that this is not only unique to the Finger Lakes, but to lakes in general. I tend to believe him, lakes being rather flat, we have a right to believe that they’ll behave and flow in the same direction. But Keuka does not. It’s something to ponder as you sit in some tasting room, drinking wine and gazing at this perfect picture of a lake, it’s different. And that makes all the difference.

There are many places to do said drinking and gazing. I like to pick one right at the level of the bluff, where the energy runs highest. That means Domaine LeSeurre, Weis, Ravines, and McGregor on the east side, Dr. Frank sits fortuitously on the west side but it has a different kind of energy. It gets the morning sun, and it sits where the current flows away to the east. For now, let’s ponder the east side, where the current is coming towards us and bringing… what exactly?

I’ve long pondered whether there is a “banana belt” on southeast Keuka, analogous to the one often cited on Seneca. This is driven mostly by the ripeness of the grapes consistently obtained by the winery that might be dead center in the path of my postulated Keuka energy current, McGregor Vineyards. This rather smallish winery grows all its own grapes on Keuka, yet vies with many vineyards from southeast Seneca for ripeness achieved each year. And if southeast Seneca gets riper, why not southeast Keuka? Taste the wines and decide for yourself.

Let’s say for the moment, that I’m correct. That there is an energy field flowing around the bluff, bringing some sort of magical, or magnetic (if that makes you science types feel better) but some sort of field. I don’t recall hearing stories of compass malfunctions on Keuka, so perhaps not magnetic after all. It’s probably as simple as lake currents and wind currents through the valley that bring warmth and weather, but until a study is undertaken I’m free to hypothesize. Also, lest we forget, the energy is not always of a benign nature, sometimes it brings hail, or wind, or flood. I’ve never seen Keuka as violent as Seneca (once when staying at a house on Seneca in November the waves were crashing up to our second floor bedroom window) but try telling that to a grower that has lost their fruit to hail damage.

Another thing about Keuka, compared to Seneca, it’s much more intimate. It’s smaller, sure, but you get literally closer to Keuka on the main roads. You can sense the looming hills because they are looming over you for a great deal of the drive. Seneca is further removed from much of the wine trail. Keuka is close in, almost touchable. I guess maybe my favorite thing about Keuka is that it is different. It’s the crooked lake, the one that flows two ways, the one that doesn’t conform. I guess you won’t need a shrink to figure out why I admire those qualities, even in a lake.

I’m sitting here at perhaps my favorite table in the entire Finger Lakes (you’ll have to find your own, or you can share mine if our paths cross), closing my eyes and searching in my mind (meditating Jerry, just say meditating) for a glimpse of a spark, an intuitive hunch, even a tiny cramp in my leg, something to tell me the energy is real. I’m drinking a wine made from grapes grown on these same slopes. The wine tastes… appropriate. Sorry, but I’m done talking about how a wine tastes, let me profess how it makes me feel. This one feels energetic. It feels alive. In this spot, under these circumstances, it makes me feel like I could believe in magic.

Cheers, Jerry.