By Severine Pinte, Winemaker of Le Vieux Pin and LaStella Wineries
The year 2024 will be etched in my memory as a time of profound challenges, unexpected twists, and a remarkable journey through uncertainty. It began with the terrifying force of a polar vortex in January, which devastated our vineyards and left us grappling with the harsh reality of no harvest in sight. In the face of such adversity, questions loomed large: Was the BC wine industry sustainable? Could I continue in a profession that had become so deeply intertwined with my identity?
What followed was a year of intense emotional highs and lows—periods of fear and self-doubt, punctuated by moments of clarity and hope. Through the darkness, a strong sense of community emerged within the BC wine industry, and personal milestones reminded me of the power of resilience. Along the way, we adapted, reimagined, and found new paths forward. It wasn’t easy. It wasn’t perfect. But by December, we had turned the corner—laying the foundation for a renewed vision for the future.
Join me as I reflect on the trials and triumphs of 2024, and the lessons learned from a year of profound transformation.
January 2024
On January 12th, 2024, a polar vortex swept through the Okanagan Valley, bringing unprecedented cold temperatures. Within hours, the valley was plunged into a flash freeze lasting 56 hours, with temperatures dropping to -25°C and lower. Vitis vinifera vines, though dormant during winter and naturally resistant to cold, could not withstand the intensity and speed of this event. The damage was immediate and severe: primary, secondary, and even tertiary buds were dead. There would be no grapes to harvest this year.
Coming on the heels of a similar, though milder, event in December 2022, this was devastating. I dove into my spreadsheets, calculating potential yields and projecting the financial and operational impact for the next five years. Fear gripped me. The team was in shock, and questions flooded in: Will we keep our jobs? Do we need to remove entire blocks of vines? Can we still grow the same varietals? Could we have done anything differently in our vineyard management to protect the vines? Is the BC wine industry sustainable? Does this career still make sense for me?
For me, winemaking and viticulture are deeply tied to my identity. If this was no longer possible, who would I become?
Amid the darkness, glimmers of hope emerged. I was fortunate to attend the “Tasting Climate Change” conference in Montreal on January 21st, organized by Michelle Bouffard and her team. Engaging with peers, exchanging ideas, and learning how winemakers worldwide are adapting to climate challenges was inspiring. It reminded me that there is hope. 😊
At the same time, I faced a personal milestone. My daughter Ava was preparing to leave for a three-month student exchange in Belgium. I was excited for her, knowing the joy and growth that come from discovering new places, people, and cultures. But as a parent, it was bittersweet. My little girl was growing up, embarking on her own journey, and it was a reminder of how unsettling change can be. Human beings don’t like change—it’s scary. Can we ever truly control the unknown?
February 2024
Fear continued to dictate every move I made. I was functioning at a high level but felt frozen, unable to truly support my team’s mental well-being because I was barely keeping myself afloat.
As news of the polar vortex spread, the media frenzy began. Journalists called constantly, seeking details about what had happened and the consequences for the wine industry. Many were looking for drama, but I couldn’t let the story spiral into hopelessness. I answered every call, appeared on Global TV, and became the spokesperson for the French Canadian media, trying to explain the events with clarity and a touch of optimism. The industry wasn’t dead—not all vines were lost. We would recover. But even as I reassured others, I hadn’t yet fully processed the many layers of challenges this polar vortex had created.
Amid the chaos, a bright moment arrived: my eldest returned home from a four-month trip to France and Europe. It was a glimmer of light, and I held onto it tightly.
The Okanagan Valley, with all its natural beauty, offered me moments of refuge. On weekends, I sought solace in the mountains, chasing rays of sunshine and carving through the snow. For a few hours, life felt simple again. I could lose myself in the joy of skiing, surrounded by people who spoke of perfect powder and bluebird days—not dead vines and uncertain futures.
March 2024
Bottling season arrived, and for the first time, I found myself genuinely happy to face this typically stressful phase of winemaking. It felt like a celebration—the culmination of years of hard work. The 2023 whites and rosé from Le Vieux Pin and LaStella were simply delightful, and the 2022 Cuvée Violette was ready to bring smiles to our customers’ faces. I could already imagine their joy and satisfaction as they sipped, and it gave me another glimmer of hope.
We also welcomed Bijou, our new puppy. In the midst of my mental exhaustion and relentless search for comfort, Bijou seemed to offer a promise of innocence, joy, and unconditional love—perhaps the soothing presence I desperately needed.
On the business side, reality hit hard. All investments in the wineries were cancelled, including the much-anticipated concrete tanks for LaStella. Two team members left, adding to the strain of an already fragile ecosystem, which had been further shaken by the loss of our colleague Alex the year prior.
Our vineyard management plans for the year underwent a complete overhaul. We re-evaluated everything: fertilizer programs, irrigation strategies, and pest management. The vineyard would never look the same. Some varietals had likely survived, but we needed to assess which blocks to remove or retrain. The possibility of sourcing grapes from the United States began to circulate.
Despite the challenges, collaboration within the industry flourished. Winemakers and growers came together to lobby the government for financial aid, brainstorming solutions to navigate this crisis. This renewed sense of community was empowering, and it gave me energy and hope to keep moving forward.
Amid this whirlwind, I was stunned to learn I’d been nominated for the Leadership Excellence Award from the Wines of British Columbia—and even more shocked when I received it. Despite the immense honour, I struggled to feel its significance. Fear, self-doubt, and imposter syndrome loomed over me like unwelcome guests at the table. But that realization was a turning point. It shook me from my haze, forcing me to dig deeper into understanding and regulating my nervous system. The trauma of the polar vortex wouldn’t disappear, but I could learn to prevent it from overshadowing my actions and emotions.
It wasn’t a perfect month, but there were glimmers of light, and those were enough to keep me moving forward.
April 2024
Pruning season was winding down, but it left a trail of questions and uncertainties. Nothing was straightforward anymore; the usual practices had been upended. Did we prune correctly? Had we left enough spurs? Should we have cut everything back to the trunk? The weight of these decisions hung over me as warmer days began to settle in. I anxiously awaited bud break—any sign of life felt like a victory. A single bud swell would ripple through the valley like news of a miracle, and it truly felt like winning a marathon. Hope was my constant pursuit: hope that the vines weren’t all dead, hope for the survival of the business, hope to continue crafting BC wines, and hope to hold on to a vital piece of myself.
Walking in the forest with Bijou, surrounded by the bright yellow arrowleaf balsamroot flowers native to the Okanagan, became my sanctuary. In those moments, amidst the rebirth of nature, the tension in my body would slowly release.
At LaStella, we bottled the Fortissimo 2022, a milestone that brought a sense of accomplishment. And Ava returned from Belgium, glowing with enthusiasm and changed in beautiful ways. I had missed her positive energy—it was like having a ray of sunshine back in my life.
We celebrated Earth Day with fellow Certified Sustainable Winegrowing BC members at the Naramata Wine Vault. Dave and I proudly poured wines from Le Vieux Pin and LaStella. Guests were smiling and excited to discover the new vintages, and their enthusiasm was contagious.
Another major milestone awaited us: Le Vieux Pin was chosen as the Canadian winery to represent Rhône varietal wines at the prestigious Hospice du Rhône event in Walla Walla, Washington. Dave and I packed up Ava 2022, Cuvée Violette 2022, and Équinoxe Syrah 2020 for the journey. The road trip through the stark, volcanic landscapes of the Missoula floodplain was awe-inspiring. The ruggedness of the terrain invited deep introspection, and I felt immense gratitude for the opportunity to showcase our craft at such a reputable event. Slowly, I began to feel a warmth returning to my spirit.
The exploration didn’t stop there. Dave and I scouted vineyards for potential grape contracts. The reality was undeniable—if we wanted to sustain the business, we would have to consider making wine from grapes sourced outside of BC. It was devastating, especially given the industry’s hard-fought efforts over the past 20 years to build the BC wine brand. But survival requires adaptation. Now, we waited anxiously for government announcements that could ease the financial and regulatory challenges of working with out-of-province grapes.
April was a month of milestones, moments of hope, and hard truths. Though the road ahead remained uncertain, glimmers of light continued to guide the way forward.
May 2024
As spring reached its peak, the vines began to “cry” more and more—a hopeful sign that life was coursing through them again. It felt like we were finally beginning to recover from the devastating effects of the polar vortex.
We hosted a successful winemaker’s dinner at the Wine District Village in collaboration with Ward’s Wine Country Kitchen. I love these dinners; they’re a chance to connect directly with our customers and celebrate the synergy between culinary artistry, hospitality excellence, and the craft of winemaking. These events remind me that I belong to this region, this community. They are grounding moments that make me feel alive and capable, even in the face of past trauma.
May brought a mix of milestones and hard decisions. Ava got her learner’s license, an exciting moment for her and a bittersweet one for me as I watched her take yet another step toward independence. In the vineyard, a successful planting season saw dormant vines settling into their new homes. However, we had to make the painful decision to remove the Syrah blocks at Le Vieux Pin, as well as the Viognier front block that had once been destined for our Équinoxe Viognier CuvĂ©e. It was a bittersweet moment, but one that underscored our resilience. We adapted our operations, reopened the tasting rooms, welcomed customers, and started selling wines again. The machine was running full steam ahead.
One highlight of the month was renewing our Sustainable Winegrowing BC certification for all nine vineyards and two wineries. Despite the challenges, we stayed true to our core values, continuously improving and innovating. One major project—establishing cover crops in our vineyards to enhance soil health and retain ground moisture—proved to be a success!
Yet, the deeper impacts of the cold snap continued to emerge. News spread of more wineries going up for sale, and local businesses that supply winemaking and vineyard materials were struggling as wineries and growers tightened their budgets to save money. The entire community was feeling the strain.
I ended May with a sense of joy, humility, and pride as we presented a vertical tasting of our Syrah Cuvée Classique to the Wine Appreciation Society, featuring vintages from 2008 to 2017. Each wine showcased beautifully, reflecting its unique vintage character and reaffirming that Syrah thrives in the terroir of the South Okanagan. It was a poignant reminder of the magic we can create when nature and craftsmanship come together.
June 2024
Flowering finally arrived around June 12th, bringing clarity about the tonnage we could expect from our vineyards. Some blocks showed promising signs of recovery, while others remained lifeless. With this knowledge, objectivity began to take hold, and I felt like I could start steering the ship again.
A significant moment this month was being invited to speak on a panel of women in wine, with the incredible DJ Kearney as MC, alongside fellow female winemakers and wine business owners. That evening was transformative. I spoke openly about the imposters sitting at my mental table, whispering that I wasn’t good enough and questioning how I even dared to speak in that room. To my astonishment, other women in the room admitted they had been intimidated by me, perceiving me as confident and self-assured. It was a stark reminder of how perception can differ from reality. That night, I learned to trust myself more, to feel my emotions, and to recognize the strength of the community around me. I left the event feeling more grounded and empowered than I had in a long time.
Later that week, we hosted our annual winemaker’s dinner at Le Vieux Pin in collaboration with Chef Chris from Backyard Farm. It was another unforgettable evening filled with incredible food, wine, and conversation. These dinners always remind me of the joy and connection that wine can bring, and they reaffirm my passion for what I do.
July 2024
After a challenging first half of the year, I finally had a chance to take a well-deserved break and recharge. Spending time with my adoptive Canadian family and reconnecting with my best friend from France helped me relax and process the emotions I had been holding in. As an expat, I often suppress my need to speak my mother tongue, but this time reminded me how vital it is to maintain a deep connection with my roots.
On July 25th, a historic shift occurred for the BC wine industry: the government announced it would waive the 89% markup on wholesale prices for land-based wineries using grapes from outside of BC—but only for 2024. Earlier in the year, there had been talk of a two-year allowance, so we had planned to delay purchasing outside grapes until 2025. This sudden decision forced me to react quickly and start sourcing grapes from the vineyards we had scouted in the spring.
The sense of control I had begun to regain slipped away once more. With the year already full of challenges, the uncertainty of this new reality left me feeling unsteady, as though I was scrambling to steer the ship through uncharted waters.
August 2024
Our final bottling of the season went off without a hitch, a small comfort amidst the chaos. I found myself anxiously observing vine growth, updating the production forecast for the next five years. The weight of planning for what I would bottle in 2025—despite having no 2024 wine in production yet—was heavy, but I kept looking forward. Moving forward was the only option.
Amidst trips to the AVAs in Washington State—Wahluke Slopes, Red Mountain, and Horse Heaven Hills—my son turned 19. Watching him grow into a smart, thoughtful young man was another glimmer of light in a sea of challenges. It reminded me to hold onto moments of joy, however fleeting they may feel.
August brought its own set of trials as I juggled the legalities of importing grapes, orchestrated logistics, and coordinated maturity control with American viticulturists. The hardest part, though, was the decision-making. Due to logistical constraints, I had to relinquish control over the most crucial part of the winemaking process: the harvesting decision. It felt unnatural, almost unbearable, to let go of this responsibility, and it left me sick to my stomach. But I had no choice—it was a lesson in adaptation, even when it felt like giving up a part of myself.
September – October 2024
The grapes came in, with a bit from BC and some more from WA state. In addition to the usual Syrah, Cabernet Franc, Cabernet Sauvignon, Roussanne, Viognier, Sauvignon Blanc, and Chardonnay, we brought in some other Rhône varietals—Grenache, Mourvèdre, and Cinsault. These varietals are difficult to grow in BC due to our cooler, shorter growing season.
The warm weather made things run smoothly on the crush pad, and it also helped make the often-dreaded task of counting every vine we owned a bit more manageable. We had to do it for production insurance, to ensure the claim for vine loss would be processed accurately.
I also spent a few evenings in Vancouver at some prestigious restaurants, one of them being The Botanist, where I had the chance to promote and showcase our craft.
November 2024
It was a month of planning. The wines finished fermenting late, but I got the honour of pouring two of our Le Vieux Pin wines—the Vaila Rosé 2023 and the Syrah Cuvée Violette 2022—at events in Ottawa and Vancouver.
One of the highlights was sharing our wines with the Ambassador of France in Ottawa and the Consul General of France in Vancouver during the 120th anniversary of Alliance Française in Vancouver.
December 2024
2024 was tough. I had moments when I cried when I felt stuck in “freeze mode” despite still functioning at a high level of productivity. There were moments of fear. But the tight-knit team we’ve built over the years, the close friends and family around me, and the genuine collaboration within the BC wine industry helped me get through it.
It was a reminder that growth isn’t linear and that vulnerability is necessary to make space for new ideas, progress, and help. By the end of the year, we’d put together a planting program for the next few years and introduced new vineyard management tools to prepare for potential cold snaps. We changed a lot, but it was all for the better.
December also brought some light—a renewed sense of hope, energy, and enthusiasm to begin 2025 with strength and purpose.
