Well, it was the trip of a lifetime.  Imagine a private jet, at your
disposal, and you can go -anywhere-. We chose Napa.  Here's the story.
   The International Wine & Food Society, Anchorage Chapter, a/k/a the
wine snobs, get together every first weekend in August, at a -fly-in-
lodge in the Talkeetna Mountains, for the last 10 years, to taste the
-new-release- First Growth Burgundies against the Californians, and
the new First Growth Bordeaux against the cabs.  Many of the members
own their own restaurants, and bring lamb, quail, venison, partrige,
king crab, shrimp, fois gras, and  lots of goodies to go with the
$100/bottles of wine. Each night, 25-30 bottles of fantastic stuff is
tasted, with the best of gourmet food, in the absolute wilderness.
Many members own private airplanes, and ferry the others in.  The
lodge is 'bush-plush', sleeps twelve, no electricity, but the wood-
burning stove generates hot water for kitchen and showers.  Only the
finest crystal and china. A Le Montrachet tasting for lunch, a
visiting winemaker is always invited for afternoon tastings, and then
the seven-course formal dinner in the absolute wilderness, to taste
the twenty-five or so new great Bordeaux.  This is the prelude.
   At our last gathering, this August, we had to endure the panderings
of Eddie, who was -talking-up- his new jet, a Gulfstream.   After much
great wine, he agreed (so he thought) to take us all to Napa for a
weekend.  Well, he made good on his promise. Several in our group are
in the wine trade, and made calls to places that don't usually take
visitors.  A grand time was planned for October. 
   We arrived on a Wednesday, at ERA's private hanger.  The Gulfstream
was ready.  Eddie, his parents, and wife, and us the wine snobs were
on hand.  The red carpet was out. Off we went. Twelve of us; ready.
  At 45,000 feet, Hans (owns the Corsair restaurant, Wine Spectator
award of something) prepared king crab, shrimp, truffled pate, and
doled out  Le Montrachet, and various wax-capsule demons from Mme.
Lalou-Bize.  Then came the gourmet sandwiches and grand cru DRC's
for -after- lunch.  Yquem to down it all with.
   Non-stop, Anchorage to Napa Intl Airport. I got to fly the
Gulfstream most of the way; the snobs would come up to the cockpit
and complain about my flying:: "you're spilling my Montrachet!!"
   We arrived, met with two limos, who whisked us to the Harvest Inn,
set nicely in the vineyards.  A little tasting of Martha's awaited us.
   Off for dinner at Dick Steltzner's.  Dick has been up to our Alaska
gathering, and has the distinction of being the only guest to finish
off an entire 30-lb box of king crab.  Himself.  Dick couldn't get a
permit for a winery, so he -blasted- a tunnell through the mountain.
At the entrance to the tunnell, is his -tasting-room-; on beyond is
the barrell-fermenters, and about -half-way-, he's put up a 
-boardroom-, taking up the -top-half- of the tunnell; you climb up
circular stairs, and -poof- it's a -major- presentation room.  We
tried several of his old vintages.  Then, it's time for dinner.
Off we go.  The limos get stuck climbing the mountain, and then, 
poof, there we are, on his 3000-sq-ft deck, over-looking Napa.
Wow. There's an outdoor kitchen, an Olympic-sized pool, a bread
oven, and a pizza oven.  The deck is huge. The caterers make yuppie
pizzas to order in the wood-burning oven, and nice quails to munch
on.  I ask Dick:  Boy, what a fabulous deck;  this is to die for;;
ah, where's the house???  He says: well, haven't built it yet!!
We dine on massive steaks, and Steltzner-wine of many years. 
   The best is yet to come.  After being completely sated, he
says; shall we pull??  and, at the end of the deck, is a full
trap-shooting ensamble, which we make miserable work of.  THEN!
comes the piece d/resistance:: the CANNON.  Dick has a cannon
from a naval ship, 80mm, (that's EIGHT centimeters!);  we load it
up with a -whole- bag of black powder, wadding, and an 'enormous'
lead ball, and KA-BOOM!  off it goes.  Dick says, if you detect
the taste of gunpowder in Stag's Leap (*his neighbor*), that's why!
Much more fine wine of the Steltzner's was had by all. 
   The  next morning, we had an appointment at Wilson-Daniels.
For those of you who don't know, they import Romanee-Conti, Dujac,
Faively, and generally keep to the high end.  9 am is tough to taste,
but we rose to the occasion.  We were supposed to spit, but, it's
tough, with Grand Crus.  We emerged, well, -ethereal-.  Onward.
   And onward it was.  Eddie had arranged a -formal- luncheon at
Far Niente,  which usually doesn't take the rabble. Gil Nickel had
just returned from a summer racing his Ferrari's in Italy, and we
were to be the only formal occasion.  We were received in the new
-grill- area, that they spent millions on, and tasted vairous
vintages of FarNiente Chard.  Then, on to the caves, with the -major-
toor of their autos; Rolls, Ferraris, et al; and finally -formal-
luncheon (every place had a formaly printed card); lobster, etc.;
All vintages of Far Niente, attended by Gil's stunning wife......
   Well, we stumbled out.  The limos were there. And.... OFF TO:

Mondavi and the Rothshcilds.  Money is no object, and we found
out how.  The winery is stark, but incredible.  We watched fruit
being sorted by hand; this grape is good; this grape is not; 
we chatted with the french winemaker; she's a tough nut;; doesn't
like the Mondavi's; only communicates by fax;;; Opus has had it's
share of problems::: they bought in central Napa, and immeditely
replanted; then came phylloxera, and they had to re-plant again;
they decided to plant double-tight, like the french, and got a 
low yield, and the worst::: they dug a cave, and hit a hot spring;
now they have to spend -thousands- per month -cooling- their
'hot-spring' cave. Well, we had  a major tasting of Opus.  I must
say;; for all the price, I don't like their wine.  They have made
a great style change, less from France, and the recent vintages
more toward California-style (?to sell?) that I don't like.
Time will tell.  Their winery, though, is incredible.

of the original wineries.  We were met, and given the -famous- tour
through the winery, seeing the ancient redwood vats.  There the difference
began.  We were limo'd to the 'Beaulieu-House', which was the original
residence of Georges de LaTour, and resembled Falling-Water's creator
in art-deco motif.  You could feel the 1920's, and 'servant's were
everywhere.  We had a formal tasting of BV's sparkling wines (yes,
they DO make one) out by the formal pool, with  white-gloved 
servants, and canape's to die for;, then, it was -into- the -house-;
where small white tables were set in each room; we got to tour the
house, and then had a dinner of all -old- BV private reserves.
It felt like  traveling back in time, to the era of genteelness.;
The service was -fabulous-, and the dessert and coffee on the 
enormous porch, of madrona logs, and a -time-gone-by-.
Ending the -dinner of the 20's was BV's Muscat; quite haunting.
   Back to the Harvest Inn.  Breakfast with Champagne.
Off to Beringer, one of the oldest wineries in Napa.  We had the 
five-star tour of the caves, then a tasting of their 'Private
Reserves' to die for.  Beringer makes 'ok' cabs, but their 'Private
Reserves' are quite the different animal.  We fell in love with the
'93 Howell Mountain Bancroft Ranch Reserve Merlot; a wine of immense
proportions, and for -long-keeping-;it poured like ink.  We ordered
a case each;;;;, but, the management was limiting people to -one-
bottle each.  Hurried discussions ensued. A case each will be at
your jet on departure.  Woof.  It's -nice- to be a VIP>
   Well, that's breakfast.  For lunch, it's off to Schramsberg.
The limos  toil up the winding hill.  We're greeted by the
owners, and given incredible personal tours of the caves.
Then, they say, let's take a walk.  Up we go,  following 
the wagon trails of the mid-1800's, lined by ancient olive
trees.  And there, at the top of the hill, with a fantastic
view of Napa central, is a circular grove of ancient olive
trees, right smack in the center of the vineyards, with
tables set for luncheon, with fine linen, china, and LOTS of
champagne flutes.  I think, well, I'm in heaven.  There is a
large barbecue oven, and a dozen waiters pouring Schramsberg.
The luncheon is fantastic.  We have J Scram, RD Scramsberg,
and calif-bubbly to die for.  All with great food, and the
owner and his lovely wife to chat with.  All in the most
romantic and  georgeous setting I've ever seen, on the top
of the mountian, viewing Napa valley, IN the vineyards. Wow.
   Off we go in the limos.  Stepping up the steps at Clos
Pegase, we are overwhelmed by the art.  A Henry Moore greets
us.  Off to the left is a greek statue, an original, made
into a fountain.  In the vineyards to the right is an enormous
thumb, some modern art.  On we go.  The whole winery is a
testamony to art; we get the VIP treatment, and wander through
the caves, old Roman and Greek statues to the left and right.
We stop in the 'theater', carved out of the rock, well below
the surface, in the dank corners of the caves, set up like a
greek 'theater';; we are treated to a tasting of a vertical
of their wines, and a 'new' port;  the air there is heavy.
  It's dinner time.... We head off in the limos to the CIA; the
Culinary Institute of America.  They've bought the old Christian
Bros Winery, and made it into a showplace.  We get the VIP tour, 
watching the students play and work.  Then, it's on to the 
Graystone, the restaurant of the CIA.  Appetizers out on the
porch, then it's on to the special dining room.  The kitchen
is right smack in the middle of the dining room, and one can
watch and play with the chefs.  We had invited Ed Selym, the
producer of the -finest- pinot noir in the US, an old friend.
He arrived with a -suitcase-, and the sommelier initially 
harrumphed, until he saw who it was:: BUT! Of Course!
Mr. Selym is -always- welcome!  (He brought magnums.)
Well, it was fabulous.  It's a noisy crowd, and I don't think it's
four-star gourmet, but, damn, we had great service and food.
Had -something- to do with the magnum of Selym that went back to 
the chefs.  The food -kept- coming. And coming. And coming.
  Then, it's off to the porch, for dessert.  Marvin Shankin would
be proud of the enourmous cigars that wandered out.  Don't know how.
The limos trundled us off, fully sated, back to the Harvest Inn.
  The next morning, we're off. But! There's a call!  We are met
at the jet by Dick Steltzner, who loads us up with incredible
fresh produce from his gardens!  Three varieties of tomatoes
to die for, and bushells of corn; and, at the last minute,
Ed Selym presses in my hand a huge wrapped-up thing of abalone.
Where??? I splutter out... he says....'for friends.'
  Off we go, back in the Gulfstream, at 45 thousand feet.
Out comes the Romanee-Conti, and Hans & Jens expertly prepare
the abalone.  What a -nice- lunch.  This time, though, I don't
fly the jet, I stay back with the -rabble-, and enjoy the
abalone and DRC.  Well, sometimes, you have to make do.
  As I said, it was -quite- the trip.