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Ahead of us was another full day and Wine magazine's Wendy Toerien had to 'pop in' to a new local winery and collect some labels. After a bit of rond-ry we found Bloupunt Wines near the end of Long Street, just before it leaves town to negotiate the snaking Montagu Pass.

The wines are named after a peak of the Langeberg which rises above the town, the tip of which can just be seen from the cellar. The vineyards stretch back towards the stony, deep-red hills and tile winery is, I belfieve, the only one with vines growing in the heart of a Cape country town. This lends a very European ambience to the place.

So did ex-banker Phil Hoffman when we found him, sun-browned and wearing a beret, and exasperated at the latest twist of fate that had befallen his first vintage. He was supposed to be bottling that day, but the wrong bottles had been delivered. Now he was in the act of knocking down his entrance pillars to accommodate a large delivery truck which would - he hoped - soon be bringing the right Burgundy-style bottles.

We left him to it and accepted son Paul's invitation to a 'quick' taste of the first liquid fruits of their labours. They grow only Chardonnay, and there were two 10 000-litre stainless steel fermentation tanks, one with unwooded and one with wooded wine.

Paul tapped out three tasting glasses from each tank. We tasted. They were promising. We tasted some more; swirled it round our mouths. Wendy is to wineries what Charlie is to chocolate factories, so it was much later than we'd hoped (and loaded with half a dozen of each variety) that we scuttled through the immense crags of the pass, already late for our first appointment.

This happened to be a formal tasting at De Wetshof, but luckily our guide, Santa Hofmeyr-Joubert, managed to call them on her cell phone and, anyway, it was Saturday in the Breede River Valley and everyone was rustigi and gesellig in the spirit of the season.

We were ushered inside the mock-Georgian tasting building, up the sweeping wooden staircase and into the long tasting room by Ben Stipp. A long table was laid with white table cloth, tasting glasses, water jugs, white porcelain spittoons, scoring sheets and pencils.

After an introduction to the wines we set about tasting about a dozen varieties and vintages. Owner and winemaker Danie de Wet (no relation of the De Wets of Zandvliet) specialises in whites, mainly Chardonnay (in seven styles, although he has recently planted four hectares of Pinot Noir).

Wine critic supreme John Platter describes the premier Bateleur wine as having an 'elegant complexity. Danie - the industry giant of the valley and heir apparent to KWV chairmanship - has produced some champion vintages in this style and enjoys a reputation for making fine wines. As a sweeping statement I would say (and by this time we were all making sweeping statements) that I found most of the wines to be in keeping with the architecture and atmosphere of the estate: formal and austere. So much is imade of 'terroir these days that many people wonder why the winemaker is still considered to be such a celebrity. The reason for this you'll find by comparing De Wetshof to Van Loveren, just across the road but oh so different from one another.

The soils, slope and rainfall are all pretty much the same, but everything about Van Loveren is different: it is casual and welcoming in the extreme - especially, the hillsides across the wide sweeps of the Breede which, as Nico Retief had said, were blerrie bursting with wild flowers.

Van Loveren was all abuzz that day. Nico's brother and official winemaker Wynand, and some of their two sons apiece, were engaged in the familiar tradition of furiously opening bottles for the tables of eager tasters. Here, you feel, wine is made for the purpose of celebration, rather than as a medium for deep contemplation, deferred gratification or investment.

The women of the family were engaged in another Saturday tradition - bearing tray after tray of steaming corn fritters to the tables. We all sat among the greenery which is the life's work of family matriarch Jean Retief. Throughout her adult life she has planted a tree to mark every special occasion; the garden is such a verdant and genial venue that the tiny tasting room is generally ignored.

Van Loveren was the first estate to draw attention to the Robertson area as a region capable of producing not only fine wines, but fine reds. Much like the makers, the style here is soft and fruity, rather than tannic and serious. Platter has this to say of the River Red (a blend of Merlot, Cab Sauv and Ruby Cabernet): "An absolute winner in the cheap, cheerful and charming class."

With over 21 wines to select from, and the company so engaging, we once again found ourselves making apologies on Santa's cell phone. This time it was to Jenny, the mother part of mother-and-daughter team Jenny and Julia Mogg who run Mogg's Country Cookhouse. The 'cookhouse' was more than an hour's drive away, over the Langeberg, down Shaw's Pass and into the Hemel-en-Aarde Valley in the Overberg district.

We had hoped to make at least one wine stop in this breathtaking valley, which may be small in geographical terms, but looms large in other ways. The brightest viticultural star in the valley is Hamilton Russell Vineyards, the fist winery in South Africa to champion the Burgundy style: using Pinot Noir and Chardonnay over the more popular Cabernet Sauvignon and Sauvignon Blanc associated with Bourdeaux. But Getaway had visited Hamilton Russell in the recent past so we passed it by.

Instead we tried its well-pedigreed neighbour Bouchard Finlayson, also a cool-terroir Burgundy specialist - but unforjunately winemaker Peter Finlayson was closing shop for the afternoon. Winemaker Storm Kreusch-Dau of WhalcHaven, at the mouth of the valley, was having birthing dramas with a new vintage as well as a child, so we kept clear. Dave and Felicity Johnson's new family-run Newton Johnson Winery was knee-deep in the business of getting its first vintage into barrels and the barrels into the new cellar.

We settled in for lunch and the rest of the afternoon at Mogg's, accompanied by wines from the valley (Cape Bay Chenin Blanc and Pinotage from Newton Johnson which are normally export wines, but with small quantities available chez Mogg).

The peak of Babilonstoren lords over the valley and seems to catch clouds as if it was climatological Velcro. As we wended our way down the tree-lined farm lane to the country kitchen, the woolly grey clouds let loose intermittent showers, but from the chimney rose a curl of welcoming smoke.

Jenny, Julia and her boyfriend were busy in the kitchen and the smells of baking and cooking filled the cosy, log-cabin-style eatery. Quaint, cosy, intimate, warm, genial, joyful, wholesome, organic - all these words came to mind. To complete the picture, a rainbow arched over the roof as we arrived.

Which is not to sav it's a lentil-and-yoghurt establishment. the Moggs are more refined than that. On their ever-changing menu you'll find the likes of chicken-and-feta pie, chicken breast in blue-cheese sauce, Kassler rib, bobotie, all served with crisp country vegetables.

It's the kind of place that's hard to leave, especially with a squall outside and a fire within. But it was Saturday evening, and Jenny and Julia had to prepare for Saturday night (you can eat there only if you've booked: dinner on Friday and Saturdav and lunch Wednesday to Sunday), and we were late for Hermanus anyway. Accommodation for thav night had posed a problem, as there was no wine-specific place to stay. We decided to spoil ourselves and were happy to set our dripping selves and our bags in the foyer of the Auberge Burgundy. at least the style was in keeping with the winemakers over the hill.

"She's got a thing about Provence," someone in our party said of Marolene Heunis who, with husband Wessel, owns the place. The auberge is built in the style of a Provencal villa: three storeys and square, with dressed-stone corners, iron balconies, shuttered doors and windows, clay tiles on the roof and ochre-coloured walls. The word auberge is derived from the Old Provencal term alberga, meaning an inn or a tavern.

Inside was spacious, modern and colourful, what you might call designer Provence. With a three-star silver Satour rating you'll not find the standards or the service wanting: 'seamless service' they call it. The formal French-style gardens, with rose and lavender borders, have a trickling fountain as a focus. It's a quaint touch of Mediterranean France but the subtlety is bullied by the rumble of the Atlantic Ocean close by. It certainlv has style but - and this may be a result of its newness - lacks a real, old soul.

Whatever it is, the Auberge Burgundy isn't Old Cape and it isn't cheap; but it certainly is the best accommodation in this fashionable town. We decided to eschew the historical Burgundy Restaurant and dine instead at the very intimate Whale Cottage Guest House in Main Road. Greek lamb was prepared to mouth-watering juicy perfection by our host, Chris von Ulmenstein. She's of German ancestry but claims her heart belongs in Greece. And her kitchen, I would add. If you're in Hermanus and looking for somewhere to stay that's got style but is casual and affordable, then the Whale Cottage should suit your tastes.

Sunday dawned grey, but patches of blue showed through. As promised, whales were performing close to the Old Harbour which lies directly in front of the auberge and restaurant. We departed with light hearts for, no matter how much tasteless developers try to ruin it, Hermanus remains a special place. For once we were on time and arrived early at Compagnes Drift Farm, site of the original Dutch East India Company outpost on the Bot River and now home of Beaumont Wines. Although they've been making wines on the farm for many years, it is only recently that Beaumont has emerged as a so-called boutique winery; I predict that one day none too soon its wines will stand among the best.

But, according to Platter, 'boutique cellar' doesn't sound right as a description of Raoul and Jayne Beaumont's winery. "(The word) is too trendy and cityslick to reflect the rustic charm of their farm, nor does it relate to the antique cellar with its old open fermentation tanks, and it gives a misleading Idea, too, about the supremely laid-back Beaumonts thernselves." I couldn't have said it better myself, except to add that the wines themselves express something of the eccentric, artistic environment in which they are produced.

The current winemaker there is the Viking-like Niels Verburg who grew up round the Constantia vineyards and played at Cornpagnes Drift as a child: "When it's harvest time we all get stuck in, roll up our trousers and jump into the cement tanks and trample the grapes with our feet - just for fun," he chuckled resonantly.

From the start I had been looking for a cellar which had the feeling of being old and dripping with the cobwebs of the past. Here, finally, I found it. Although it's not stone arches and barrel vaults, it is authentic: open cement tanks, 150-year-old roof timbers, brass fermentation trays with candles for lanterns, old wooden implements, wheelbarrows and lots of cobwebs. Close to the cellar are two historic cottages, Pepper Tree Cottage and The Mill House. Both offer self~catering accommodation in tastefully restored buildings with views of and access to the countryside.

After a tour of the cavern-like cellar we arranged ourselves round the heavy wooden beam which acts as a tasting table. Picks of the crop were undoubtedly the Chenin Blanc and Pinotage. If South Africa is going to make a mark on the international wine scene, then it is with these two cultivars that we'll have to do it, the experts seem to agree.

The 94 Pinotage was awarded four stars in a blind tasting by Wine magazine, and the Chenin (a Loire-style wine awash with creamy, tropical-fruit flavours and a hint of oak) was listed by the prestigious UK Wine Society.

I would also rate the Goutte d'Or dessert wine highly: the pineapple-raisin flavours and toned-down sweetness (with a hint of botrytis) reflect Niels's training in the famous Sauternes region.

You won't find the Beaumont label in supermarkets; it is released in small quantities, much is exported and the rest is reserved for restaurants and specialist wine shops. The same is true of Paul Cluver's wines. To get there, our last stop of the tour, we had to negotiate the tight gorge of Houwhoek Pass, much the same route that the old colonists would have taken, and which Cape socialite and diarist Lady Anne Barnard documented as a hazardous journey.

The Cluver estate, De Rust, sits proudly in the high, cool Elgin-Vyeboom Valley and has been in the family since 1896. In the early days it was a flower farm. In 1945 the first apple trees were planted and today apples, pears and plums are its main produce. In the 1980s fruit baron Paul (he's chairman of the Unifruco fruit-exporting company) began planting his first vines under the supervision of Nederburg, which used his land and name to pioneer cool-climate vines.

And that's not all. Led by perfectionist patriarch Paul, the Cluvers have been the force behind two exceptional projects: turning previously state-owned forest reserve into a conununity farming project, and developing a biosphere reserve in the mountains behind the farm to protect the endangered natural vegetation.

The environment is brought into the tasting room in the form of the main table-the base is local stone and the counter-top a thick slab of cypress cut on the farm and painstakingly polished by the precise hands of this former neuro-surgeon.

Son-in-law Andries Burger is the official winemaker and daughter Liesl - also a winemaker - does the marketing. The wine list here is short but superior and suited to the conditions: Sauvignon Blanc, Chardonnay, Gewürztraminer, an exceptional Weisser Rhiesling and, starting in 97, a Pinot Noir.

Overall we decided the earlier Nederburg vintages lacked varietal character and boldness, whereas the latest home-made batch were strong in both varietal character and personal style. Even the new labels tell of moving from mass production to a cleaner, personal, Cluver style. "Variety," said the philosophical Paul, "is the essence of the Cape winelands." And that, he explained, was a product of the complex landscape of harsh, folded mountains and rich valleys.

"It's the same as the Cape Floral Kingdom; the variety of microclimates has determined not only the spectacular array of natural elements, they also created an amazing diversity of cultural and social elements, right down to the level of family and even the individual."

It was in this intense conversation, as he was showing us to our vehicles, that this multi-talented man had distilled the essence of our experience.

I thought back on the trip. Given the same terroir, just look at the differences between, say, De Wetshof and Van Loveren over the road from one another, or between the ambience and the wines at Paul Cluver and Beaumont just over the mountain and down the pass.

We had raised glasses in grand, historic manors, old sheds and modern, geometric structures. We had savoured wines like nectar and some, it must be admitted, with a touch of tar; wines in noble French traditions and those perculiar to the Cape; wines made from port grapes and cultivars championed in America or Australia.

We had edged along frightening mountain clefts and drifted across wide valleys, tripped through quaint villages and crept along cloistered country lanes, all threaded together by endless trellises hanging pregnant with leaf and fruit.

Wine. It can smell of asparagus or litchis, ripe berries or the musty earth. It can look like spring water or honey, like the juice of rubies, amber or roses. More than anything else known to humankind, it is balm for the soul and the mind.

If wine talks to you of endless variety,of friendship and intimacy, of philosophy and love, then don't take my word for it - go hear it for yourself on a trip through the Cape vines.

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