Such is the unique fertility of the Okanagan vine-scape, they can grow basically any grape they like. I learn this, in no uncertain terms, when I visit the upmarket Quails’ Gate winery with its modernist tasting lodge, gazing over the lakes and beaches. I ask Petra, the German-born sommelier, if climate change is responsible for the viticultural abundance. She scoffs.
“Nope, they’ve always been able to make great wine here. The first winemaker was a Catholic priest in 1850, who needed a bottle for communion. It was probably terrible. But in the 1980s they finally applied some science. Now, we can grow some of the finest wine in North America. Try the riesling.”
I try the riesling. It is brilliant. Likewise, the sparkling wine, the shiraz, the Okanagan river fish, the buttercorn, the “hot red fox” mustard, the ice wine, the blueberry juice, the artisan bourbon, the Russian garlic, the Roma tomatoes, the apricots, the elk steak…Â
On every corner of every road in the Okanagan you will find stalls selling the munificent bounty of the region, and trendy (and expensive) restaurants further up the lakeside, dishing it out to discerning diners.
All these calories need to be shifted, and you could do it by swimming, sailing, kayaking or hiking. But, to my mind, the best way is by heading into the hills to the Kettle Valley Rail Trail. It might sound like an average walk near Swindon, but in reality it is the rescued bed of a mighty British imperial railway which, via stunning trestle bridges and echoing tunnels, smashed through the Monashee mountains in the early 20th century, linking east and west Canada.Â