by Brian Cain
CHAPTER TWENTY ONE
Blake quickly found an afternoon at Loudbark was similar to an afternoon at Shangri La. He chose to walk down the long access road from Shangri La under the occasional shade of a gum tree in the afternoon warmth, along the main roadway and up the driveway of Loudbark. The width of the driveway and bitumen surface was similar, the roadway although some two kilometres west of Shangri La was exactly parallel and north south placement. The vines ran either side of the road way along the rolling hills with identical precision trellises supporting the healthy plants. He turned and looked back at the view occasionally as the roadway climbed a similar grade hill with the Loudbark winery atop the hill crest. A notable difference was banks of rose bushes in beds perpendicular to the vines but parallel with the road with no rose bushes at the end of each vine row, in stark contrast to Shangri La. Blake thought this was a good idea as he had noticed the roses placed at the end of each row at Shangri La suffered damage during harvesting by mechanical harvesting machines.
He finally reached the winery and sat on some wooden tables and benches under gum trees opposite the complex by the public car park giving a relaxing and commanding view. The Broken Back range was just to the south some few hundred metres rising up to a scrub covered cliff face of imposing height. The rolling valleys had creeks of studded gums with well placed dams separating the ancient vines in some cases planted in the late eighteen hundreds. A fork lift darted round the winery processing area cordoned off by a neat fence with signage at the gateway informing people they would be entering the processing area and could the public please park in the car park provided. The fork lift shuffled bins brought in by light trucks with spasmodic timing placing them in neat rows or taking them directly to the crusher. Raised voices of open discussion could be heard between workers tending the plant, making sure all knew where each other was and what grapes they were dealing with. Blake felt he could have been at Shangri La and sat taking in the fine air and atmosphere.
Blake entered the colonial building surrounded by a bull nose veranda made into an office, the door handle was similar to Shangri La and the general layout, timber and decor uncannily familiar although he had never seen the place. The building obviously an old house now used for business purposes even had the same smells and creaking floor boards. He felt that this and the old house at Shangri La could have been built by the same people so many years ago. He approached a dark haired slim middle aged lady directly inside the door to the right in a room marked reception with a simple piece of A4 paper laminated and attached to the door pillar with blue tack. This was also the case at Shangri La as not to damage any of the character of the woodwork with screws or nails.
The lady greeted him with a wide smile. "Can I help you sir," she enquired.
"I would like to see Clifford Barking or Bob Fields if I could," replied Blake.
"You have an appointment sir?"
"No I walked over from Shangri La on the chance I may see them, a stab in the dark but thought it a bit more neighbourly to come in person the opportunity doesn't arise very often in businesses to be so congenial."
The slim women looked puzzled but held a smile. "Shangri La you work there."
"Oh I am sorry I should have introduced myself Winston Blake," Blake offered the lady his hand and she accepted giving her name Cynthia. "CEO for Shangri La group."
Cynthia became flustered but then composed herself. "Goodness me I am sorry I had no idea." She picked up the phone and made an in house call, within a few seconds the door on the opposite side of the entrance hall opened and a distinguished gentleman of average height and build with neat greying hair glasses and a big smile extended his hand to Blake. Blake noticed his impeccable grooming designer blue tailored shirt and grey slacks.
"Winston Blake I presume, I've heard your name around of late now I have a face." The pair greeted with a handshake and Barking gestured that Blake enter his office. "Please come in and make yourself at home."
"Thank you," replied Blake and walked into the office, he immediately noticed the history of many years on the wall and shelves dotted around the small modest but stately office. "Magnificent paintings such character."
"Yes a local artist lives just under the broken back range," they sat down and made themselves comfortable. "Coffee perhaps?"
"No thanks some water would be nice walked over here to get a good look at things and it's a bit warm." Barking poured water from a jug on his desk and handed it to Blake, he drank the entire glass. "Thank you I needed that."
Barking sat back in his chair. "Walked all the way I must do that myself one day."
"I can recommend it especially a seat next to the car park under the gum trees to plan the day."
"How's things at Shangri La we haven't had a visit from anyone there for many years."
"I imagine you would be aware of who purchased the place or organisation as I'm finding."
Barking laughed out loud. "Yes they appear to be colourful people I thought the Greedy Piggy Creek goldfish farm had potential."
They both laughed aloud. "Yes, knowing Wilson Hornswaddle and Bartholomew Fothrington for most of my life ruling that out would be a grave mistake especially in these later years discovering the benefits of fun."
"I hope to meet the gentlemen soon."
"They move around allot these days retirement has brought them out of their shells, brings me to one of the reasons for my visit. They know a lot of people and have been marching around with bottles of our wine under their arm. We've come in the back door on a couple of markets and don't have the quantities of wine sold. The wines are unique and have the terroir mixed with Semillon and Shiraz vines, we don't want to spoil this it's what appealed to people in the first place. I think marketing a broader range of wine maker's ideas is also more appealing; we have sold everything we have and done very well. We need some associates of like mind and wondered if you could help."
Barking said nothing for a few seconds looking content with what he had heard, he picked up his mobile and made a call. "Bob could you come to my office immediately, I have Winston Blake here from Shangri La. You can, okay," he put his phone down. "Been a good year here but some of the growers in the area aren't doing so well, looked like the market wasn't picking up after the financial slow down of late. Some growers can't sell their fruit this could be a godsend."
"Excellent response you do this often in the area," asked Blake.
"Yes, fairly common. Hard in tight times the growers suffer so we make hay while the sun shines, the Hunter Valley is that kind of place."
"Have the coal industry been after this place?"
"For years, they've had a big push of late has never worried us we wont listen. Your eccentric counterparts seem to have pulled them up from coming in this direction. They seem to be changing tactics wanting to crack mine coal seems for the methane gas. They may have already damaged the artesian water basin in Queensland with the practice. We have a powerful lobby group in the valley and would be keen to gain your support."
"I'll arrange a meeting with Wilson and Bartholomew as soon as they're in the area. Once aware of what's going on I'm sure you'll have their full support."
Bob Fields knocked on the door and walked in greeting Blake. Bob smelt of freshly crushed grapes and strong brandy spirit from supervising crushing and blending busy at the end of harvest, he wore a look of being pushed for time and rushed.
"Shangri La have opened a couple of new markets for valley wines and asked us to assist with supply. Can we see what we can get hold of then have a further meeting to discuss finer points," asked Barking.
"I'll look into it straight away, there's some damn good grapes with no buyers how much are we talking about?" asked Bob.
"Were short of two hundred and fifty thousand cases of mixed Semillon and Shiraz from this harvest we sold all we could of older stock. It's important we can supply as much of the orders as we can. I suggest we link you direct as a partner using your own label. We can put you in touc
h to supply old stock immediately that should keep them interested."
"Two hundred and fifty thousand cases who are you supplying?" asked Bob.
"Major European and Russian outlets previously locked up with European suppliers. This will help allot I can't thank you enough. Premium wines like yours are what will help clinch the market. I'll explain this to Wilson and Bartholomew they will be over the moon. They are thinking of settling here in the valley finding it good for their arthritis."
"I hear they have a keen eye for fast racehorses?" asked Bob.
"Yes of late they have found some of the fastest thoroughbreds around."
"I hear they were merchant bankers that hardly moved from their office, how on earth do they know anything about horses," asked Barking.
"I think somewhere they found a good benchmark to gauge things from," replied Blake.
"Look I'm so pushed can we have a few days to plan this then discuss the plan next week around this time. We are crushing and blending today and I'd like to get on with it while it's happening," said Bob.
"Ahh a winemaker a passionate man with purpose, I bet you've come here every day for years but never considered you've done a days work. Get a job you love and you'll never work again," quoted Blake.
Bob Fields and Clifford Barking cracked up laughing. "I've never thought of it that way Bob but I think he's right," said Clifford.
Bob nodded his head with a grin, "Yeah I wouldn't want to be anywhere else." He turned toward the door and as his eyes passed the window he caught site of the stabling quarters at Shangri La.
"If we can be of any assistance with things or you need information while preparing a plan by all means call." Blake placed a card on Clifford's table and Bob Fields stopped in his tracks turning back to Blake.
"The stabling facility recently built in the valley next to the damn you have horses coming in, I haven't noticed any," asked Bob.
"Was built for a holding place out of the way in case Wilson and Bartholomew needed it, sometimes prying eyes and those in search of information can become a problem. We've had no need to use it."
"Em, my children have a horse," said Bob.
"Yes Flaxmead," replied Winston.
"You know of it?" asked Bob.
"I read the paper."
"Ah, we have a bit of a problem."
"And."
"The media and racing industry is all over our place disrupting the kids and our lives. Would it be poss..."
"To house Flaxmead at Shangri La of course."
Bob was taken back and Clifford Barking encouraged Bob with a nod. "Can I come and see you this evening after work."
"Yes why not you might say the place was made for Flaxmead when you see it."
"I'll see you around six would that be okay."
"Of course I'll look forward to it."
"Great see you then." Bob Fields left in haste.
"We'll have a plan to put to you by this time next week. This has been a very fruitful meeting if you'll pardon the pun," said Clifford Barking.
"I'll gather as much together about our interstate and overseas facilities we should be able to extend this relationship far beyond here."
"Absolutely," replied Barking. "If you could be as kind as to have a company statement regarding methane gas mining in the valley to present to the lobby group by our meeting next week I would much appreciate it. Another nail in the coffin will put a smile on a few faces."
"No problem, I must be going and do some work on all this myself."
"Would you like a ride back?"
"No I'll walk I found it most enjoyable."
"Wait I just remembered years back a gate was put in the fence by my grandfather lifelong friends with the family that established Shangri La. They even helped each other build the first dwellings back in the late eighteen hundreds. Unfortunately there was a rift long ago and the gate was chained up. I'll show you where it is will cut a swag from your walk and quite scenic as well."
They walked east through the vineyard amongst some of the oldest vines in the valley to the fence line separating the scenic properties. Clifford found the old gate strainer posts and ancient rusty ornate Iron Gate, the gate was on a direct straight line between the old houses. "Well I never the chain has been on there that long it's rusted away and fallen to the ground," said Barking. Weeds and grass growing round the bottom of the old Iron Gate made it impossible to open. "I'll have someone come and get this working, this is quite a gate very ornate solid cast iron. Must have meant something at sometime." Clifford helped Winston over the top of the gate working his way up the old yellow box timber strainer post that had been holding the gate up for over a hundred years.
Winston jumped to the ground on the other side of the fence. "This time next week if not before feel free to drop in anytime."
"No worries catch ya soon," replied Clifford.