Extending at least fifteen feet out in front of its tanklike body was a medieval-looking articulated arm, or boom, at the tip of which was a large steel ball covered in clawlike spikes. As the machine rumbled forward, the ball rotated fast enough to tear its way through hard rock, slowly creating a tunnel. That was the theory, anyway. It hadn’t started working yet. When it did, there would be dust and noise and, possibly, earthquakelike shaking. It would all be worth it when the tasting cave was completed. I could barely wait for that day.
It had always made sense to use caves for wine-barrel storage. Sonoma tended to get hot in the summer, and underground storage was the cheapest and most efficient way to maintain a constant temperature, which was vital to the health of the wine.
But over the past few years, many of the local wineries had expanded on the idea and had brought the actual wine-tasting experience into the caves. I’d done a tour of some of the tasting caves in the area, and they were beautiful, unique spaces. Some were rustic; others were elegant. One low-ceilinged, tunnel-like cave I’d visited in Napa had been excavated by hand during the days of the gold rush. You could still see the uneven spike marks on the dark stone walls made by the workers’ hammers and pickaxes.
Several wineries in the area had built luxurious private dining rooms within their caves. Another offered a complete spa experience. There were waterfalls and unusual lighting and nooks and crannies to explore. One local tasting cave featured an underground library. And there was always wine.
And finally, wine-cave tasting was coming to Dharma. We already had a number of storage caves on the property, but none was big enough to use as a fully functioning tasting room. The most spacious of the storage caves was located on the opposite side of the parking lot from the current tasting room. Once the cave excavation was completed, the current tasting room would be redesigned to use for private dinners and special events.
The wide double doors at the entryway to the storage cave were made of thick wood and arched to fit the cavelike opening. With the doors opened, the passageway was broad enough to allow a truck or a forklift to drive through. The interior was dark and cool and roomy enough to hold the hundreds of oak barrels that stored the wine until it was bottled.
The barrels had been moved into the fermentation barn and to other parts of the winery to avoid possible damage from the heavy equipment that would be used to expand the cave. Geologists had already tested the hard ground above the existing cave and had approved the digging.
A crowd was beginning to gather as Robin and I planted our folding chairs on the blacktop a safe distance from the storage-cave entrance. We were drinking coffee and sharing cookies and snacks with at least fifty other commune members who were also here to watch the show.
I spied my father standing with Derek next to a massive piece of equipment. My two brothers and a couple of others were there, too, deep in conversation. They all wore hard hats and looked very manly while kibitzing with the excavation company’s owner, a tall, good-looking, gray-haired man named Stan.
We had been warned that there would be a tremendous amount of dust flying and the noise would be impossible to endure without earplugs or, better yet, headphones that covered our ears completely. A while ago, Stan and his men had walked through the crowd, passing out headphones and protective goggles to anyone who wanted them.
The crowd’s chatter subsided abruptly, and that was when I noticed Guru Bob walking toward the group of men. Guru Bob, otherwise known as Robson Benedict, was the avatar, the spiritual leader of the commune. My parents considered him a highly evolved conscious being, and, having known him for most of my life, I couldn’t disagree. He was the reason my parents had gathered up their six small children and moved us all to Sonoma so many years ago when Guru Bob summoned them. Back in the day, he had purchased sixteen hundred acres of rich Sonoma farmland and had chosen this spot to establish his Fellowship for Spiritual Enlightenment and Higher Artistic Consciousness.
The commune members began growing grapes that first year, and, ten years later, with the winery thriving and lots of members’ shops, restaurants, and B and Bs doing well, Guru Bob decided to incorporate our little community. He suggested we call the new town Dharma, which means “law” in Eastern philosophy.
But the word meant much more than that, according to some philosophies. When the world was first created, it was said to have emerged from chaos. As the gods stabilized the mountains and separated earth from sky, they created harmony and stability—Dharma. In Buddhism, the word referred to cosmic law and order. Other disciplines translated it to mean “to live in harmony with the law.”
Guru Bob chose to interpret the word as the Sikhs and others had: “To follow the Path of Righteousness.” That idea appealed to his followers as well, and the town of Dharma was born.