The Last Bin: End of Harvest 2026

On Monday, August 25, our cellar master Rigo set the last bin of the vintage on the scale — bin number 1,034. One thousand and thirty-four bins, each one picked by hand, lifted overhead, and delivered to the tractor. Our fiftieth harvest is in — and Rigo was caught dancing on the crush pad. He only dances when he thinks nobody is looking. A little kick, a little spin. I have the photos to prove it.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Photos: David Munksgard

We started picking on July 27 — the first July harvest in Iron Horse history(opens in new tab) — and we finished on August 25. For most of my Iron Horse life, harvest began in the last days of August. For decades, my bet in our annual harvest pool was my parents’ wedding anniversary, August 30. A good bet, vintage after vintage. This season, we finished before harvest used to even start.

Harvest ran exactly as the growing season foretold, fits and starts, pausing for individual blocks to ripen on their own calendar. A light crop, thanks to wind and rain at bloom and we made it lighter still, on purpose. This was the most selective harvest we have ever brought in. For Chardonnay, we picked only the middle band of the slope — not the top, not the bottom, but the heart. Given this market, the world only needs superlative wine.

And now the whole winery is heady with fermentation. Nearly everything is bubbling away in tanks or micro bins, doing the part of the work that belongs to yeast, time, and winemaking vigilance. David’s official report, in full: “How are the wines? Certainly some of our best! That’s as far as I’m willing to go out on a limb, as most of our fermentations are still bubbling away. Am I happy? Hell yes.”

He signed it “David and his merry band.” His thirtieth vintage at Iron Horse. Our fiftieth. And one dancing cellar master to see it home.

Fifty years ago, my parents picked their first grapes. This harvest opened with four generations of us at the press. The harvest dates tell you how much the world has changed in one working lifetime; that morning at the press tells you what endures. Both are reasons for paying attention. And around here, paying attention has always taken a particular form: We raise a glass to it. Celebrate everything, which is what we intend to keep doing for the next fifty years.

Please come toast with us. All season we are pouring magnums under the gazebo to celebrate our 50th — and the gazebo itself is filled with golden butterflies. Bubbles and Butterflies: a theme that seems to have chosen us. And, we are taking it to heart — milkweed is joining our plantings at the fish habitat restoration in October, for the real butterflies.

Cheers! Joy