“I have a feeling we’ve lost more than one vintage”

Wildfire is a familiar threat to Paul Hobbs. The California winemaker has weathered plenty of fire seasons and even seen flames circling his vineyards. But the blaze he watched from 6,000 miles away last week is the worst fire disaster he’s ever experienced.

Since 2017, Hobbs has partnered with Galician Antonio López to make wine in López’s native village, Alvaredos, located on the far eastern edge of Ribeira Sacra. They farm about seven hectares around the village with consulting winemaker Cecilia Ferández.

None of them could have imagined the toll last week’s fires would take. “I’ve never had a fire enter directly into the vineyard. I’ve never lost an entire vintage,” says Hobbs. “I have a feeling we’ve lost more than one vintage. This is by far the worst fire I’ve ever seen.”

The fire that broke out in Larouco on Wednesday August 13 would go on to burn over 30,000 hectares (74,100 acres), making it the worst wildfire in Galicia since records began. Fernández spent the next few days watching the flames get closer. “On Thursday afternoon we knew the fire was south of the Sil River. By Friday it crossed the river. It began to spread and it was on both sides of the Sil: the south bank and the north bank,” she says.

The wildfire only grew in ferocity and speed. “That north bank, the one that reached A Rúa, was explosive, with strong winds, plus it hit a pine forest that spread the fire really fast. So it kept opening up on both flanks, east and west. Alvaredos is on the western side of A Rúa. The fire kept getting closer bit by bit. By Friday it came down the old road, and that was when some of the winery’s plots were affected,” she recalls.

Only three people live full time in Alvaredos, but in summer, the population inflates to 14. With no help in sight, the tiny village had to fend for itself. “On Saturday it was still right in front of the village, and we had hardly any firefighting resources,” Fernández says. “The fire just kept coming because there was no way to fight it. I live in A Rúa, 6 km from Alvaredos. On Saturday I wasn’t there because I was evacuating my parents—they live in another nearby village, but in the end nothing happened there. Once my parents were safe at my house, I went to Alvaredos, and then we spent the whole afternoon working. We formed our own fire brigade.”

By Saturday afternoon, the fire crept closer still. “We spent the whole night making firebreaks, and during that time a few plots of vines were burned. By Sunday around 2:30–3 in the afternoon it was all contained, and it seemed like the fire was under control and continuing up the mountain,” Fernández says.

But further south, below the village, another front had gotten out of control, and was spreading violently. The firefighters couldn’t get to it. They told the village to prepare, because they were on their own. 

Antonio López, co-owner of Alvaredos-Hobbs, was at his home in New Jersey when he got the news that his vineyards were on fire. His elderly mother still lives in Alvaredos, and was evacuated from her home when the fires broke out. Still, says Fernández, “it’s a very difficult thing to live from 6,000 kilometers away.” López got on the first flight he could find, and arrived in the village on Monday.

“We’re talking about flames 20–25 meters high,” says López. “We’ve had fires before over the years, but this was unbelievable. It was moving at 50 miles an hour. With temperatures around 40° C (104º F) for so long, all the grass was bone dry and the fire traveled at an incredible speed. It was so hard for them.”

On Sunday, Fernández and a small group of villagers stayed until it became clear the fire couldn’t be controlled. “When the flames got within 300 meters the heat was overwhelming, and they couldn’t put it out,” she says. 

Faced with no other choice, they left. “On the road out to A Rúa, the village looked like it was beginning to burn, because in fact one house did burn,” recalls Fernández. “In the end the only house that burned was one that belonged to an elderly couple who had lived there all their lives. Now they’re going to have to live with their family, far from Alvaredos. I saw them afterward and spoke to them, but I think they’re still in shock, of course. It’s heartbreaking,” she says.

“It was a miracle the village didn’t burn,” says López. “It was completely surrounded.”

The vineyards weren’t so lucky.

“The fire arrived with explosive force, and that’s what destroyed more vineyards,” Fernández says. “We only had a little bit of ground cover because we keep the vineyards mostly cleared, but even the ground burned. The little cover we had went up from the sheer heat. Some vines were completely destroyed, some trunks began to burn, and some plants are just gone. It came in from the southwest, jumped over the village, and went on burning toward the southeast. And there again it affected several plots. Every plot has some level of damage. From Friday afternoon to Sunday afternoon it was nearly three days of smoke and ash, so now when you taste the grapes, they taste of smoke,” she says.”

“From my end you just feel helpless,” says Hobbs. “When something of that magnitude happens, the ferocity of it, there’s no words to describe it,” he says. “I don’t think we as human beings are designed to handle it.”

It’s clear that this year will be a total loss for the winery.

“There’s no chance in a million years,” says Hobbs. “Those grapes are no longer suitable for their intended purpose. Smoke taint will be horrific. Australia has done research on this, Davis… nothing works. When you’re that close to the fires the smoke is acrid.”

“We’re writing this year off,” López says. “It hurts so much to see so many beautiful clusters, but the smoke means they don’t have the right quality.” Fernández says she may make wine, more out of habit than anything else. “For my part, out of interest, I’ll harvest a little and do some winemaking just to pass the time, to keep busy, to distract myself a bit,” she says.

Now, says López, the priority is trying to help put back the pieces. “Everyone in the village looks like soldiers coming back from war,” he says. “They’re walking around like zombies, which I guess is normal. It’s so intense fighting fire all night and sleeping in shifts.”

Hobbs is trying to assess the damage from afar. “When I first talked to them the fire had burned through and they didn’t know the extent,” he says. It wasn’t until [August 24] that I got a full bevy of photos. Frankly, it’s worse than advertised. Now we need to get water on the vineyards. If we can’t do that we’ll lose even more.”

López explains that they’re injecting water at the roots to give the vines nutrients and hydration. “The village water comes from a spring in the mountains, through pipes—but the fire burned through them in many places,” he says. “Our top priority is bringing water. The town council of Quiroga brings tankers every day, but we’re replacing the pipes ourselves. We can’t wait around for anyone else. We’re getting some help with water deliveries, but the rest we’re doing on our own.”

Fernández is holding out hope for next year. “We’re hopeful everything will resprout,” she says. “The leaves are burned, but you can see the trunks are fine. We’ll have a ton of work ahead, checking what comes back and what doesn’t. It’s a very hard situation.”

As we speak on the phone she remains stoic, but as she talks more it’s clear there are cracks in the veneer. 

“I’ve been in the middle of all this for a week now, and I’m starting to process it, even joke a little, but it’s very, very sad,” she says. “On Sunday afternoon, when I arrived and suddenly in three hours all that work over so many years, so much time, was just gone…” she trails off.

“The next day, when I went to check the rest of the vineyard, I went alone because I thought, I’m going to break down, and I’d rather be alone for that.”

For the most part, the team is trying to salvage whatever good they can from the situation.

“The best fire defences are keeping your vineyard floor clean and the perimeter clean,” says Hobbs. “We’ve been working on that and investing in that. In the last 2-3 years I’ve had them pushing the wild environment back away from the fence lines. The best thing about this is that Mother Nature has cleared it for us, so we’re going to keep it that way.”

We have to protect ourselves—we can’t depend on someone else to protect us, because maybe they won’t come,” says Fernánez. “We have to be the first line of defense.”

“There has to be a rethink of forest management,” she says, “because there isn’t any. It doesn’t exist. We can’t have pines less than a kilometer from people’s houses. That’s like putting fire right at your doorstep. There should at least be perimeter zones, management, escape routes—because if a fire breaks out in a pine forest, there has to be some way to stop it. With more firebreaks, and above all allowing the land to be productive—farming, livestock in the hills. Worked land, the plowed soil, the vineyards, and anything cultivated doesn’t burn. If more land is worked, there will be fewer fires. We need to make the land valuable again, so people can live off it. Chestnuts, mushrooms—there’s an endless number of things you can cultivate. But with how it is right now, everything just turns to ash. They need to wake up and implement real forest management, guided by people who actually know the land.”

It’s incredibly moving to feel the support and love from everyone—the calls, the messages, people checking in,” says Fernández. “I’d say, to really support rural areas, keep buying local products, keep supporting rural producers, because that’s the best way to ensure people keep working the land.”