‘There was nothing’: How the Okanagan Valley survived and thrived after a devastating frost event

In January 2024, a cold snap hit the Okanagan Valley. The Canadian region’s temperatures dropped to below -26°C (-15°F) for three days straight.

Vine loss was widespread. 90% of the valley’s grape production disappeared. ‘There was nothing,’ says Taylor Whelan, chief winemaker at Mission Hill. ‘We had no harvest.’

The British Columbia government stepped in with a vintage replacement program. Winemakers were granted permission to source abroad so they could salvage the incoming vintages while their vines came back online.

What unfolded was a weird, wonderful exercise in resilience.

Chardonnay makers went to Sonoma, Pinot Noir producers to the Willamette Valley. Syrah winemakers decamped for the Rhône, Sauvignon Blanc experts to New Zealand.

Other vintners partnered with Washington growers, which helped alleviate the state’s oversupply issues.

The big freeze

‘What the hell do we do?’ was a question Shane Munn, winemaker at Martin’s Lane, asked a lot following the frost.

Replanting takes time – what do they do while vines mature? What will they sell? Do they skip a vintage? Do they have the inventory to do so?

When the one-time government allowance – authorising growers to source grapes or wine internationally, as long as it’s bottled in BC, without losing local benefits – came into play, winemakers realised the catastrophe could have silver linings.

Munn, who works with Pinot Noir and Riesling, started by making a list of famous vineyards he loved. It was a bit blue sky, he’ll admit. ‘We went door knocking,’ he laughs. ‘We basically said, “Hello, we’re from Canada.” Can we get some fruit?’

His canvassing was met with, ‘Who the hell are you guys?’

Once they explained their story (‘and people realised we’re serious winemakers’), those doors opened.

‘When you talked about the damage and how many vineyards died, people understood,’ says Whelan.

What they went through was a grower’s worst nightmare. ‘No one could imagine going through that – people were generous, from a fruit, wine, and human perspective.’

In came a new kind of flying winemaker. Whelan attended Wine Paris and met with growers from Bordeaux and the Rhône. Munn, to Oregon.

Tantalus looked locally in Ontario and sourced Riesling from Grimsby Hillside and Picone Vineyards, both planted with the same clones.

Le Vieux Pin, JoieFarm, and Fort Berens jumped the border into Washington.

Supply chain headaches

Opening up a globe of sourcing possibilities wasn’t without issues. It was a crash course in the global supply chain – where do you go first? If you’ve spent your career working in the confines of the Okanagan Valley, how do you learn the viticultural intricacies of a new region, and in only a few months? How do you get a 500-ton harvest across the world?

Whelan had to navigate reverse harvests and shipping bladders of Sauvignon Blanc from New Zealand. Munn and his team were in Oregon every week, checking fruit. ‘I didn’t want the fruit coming back like a Chopped mystery box challenge, like what do we do with this?’

There are more philosophical questions. BC is just starting to gain traction as a wine region. Will wines from elsewhere dilute that message?

Quail’s Gate launched a subline, Plume, in 2009 to explore new regions. Which came in handy – they were able to release wines from abroad without confusing regular consumers.

1 Mill Road, a Pinot Noir and Chardonnay house, skipped both grapes for the 2024 vintage. ‘We’re young, and dedicated to BC,’ says owner-winemaker Ben Bryant. ‘We didn’t want to blur those lines.’

Other winemakers welcomed the opportunity to play with once-in-a-lifetime grapes. ‘I’ve never made Cabernet Sauvignon,’ says Richard Charnock of JoieFarm. ‘All of a sudden, I have the opportunity to source from incredible vineyards managed by really talented teams.’

Munn was excited about working with esteemed Oregon vineyards – his vinemates are 00, Antica Terra, and Nicholas Jay. ‘I think it will be fascinating to try those wines side-by-side in a few years,’ says Munn.

It’ll be a stylistic departure – his Rieslings are typically powerful with lots of acidity. In Oregon, they’re botrytis-kissed, opulent, honeyed, and hyper-floral.

‘We have an austere climate here, with granite soils, while they have these lush, iron-rich soils that turn your boots red,’ shrugs Munn.

Playing politics

When the frost first hit, the United States was led by a different administration. Cross-border sentiments were positive. Trump’s tariffs were not on the table.

‘It was an incredible experience,’ says Charnock, who headed to Washington. ‘The quality of the fruit was so high. The growers and winemakers are so talented and seasoned. It was like having an incredible new sub-G.I. just south of the border.’

4,500 tons of Washington grapes crossed the B.C. border in 2024.

Jeff Andrews, owner of Trothe in Horse Heaven Hills AVA, had Canadian wineries come down, walk their rows, and taste their grapes. Friendships bloomed – they ended up not only selling grapes up North, but working on a collaborative wine with Clos du Soleil in the South Similkameen Valley. ‘There’s just so many really good, sensible winemakers up there,’ says Trothe winemaker Ray McKee.

But, to pile onto the plight of BC winemakers, US-Canada relations have soured. Pro-Canadian movements and retaliatory American boycotts have led the Okanagan’s countrymen to shun their American-grown wines.

‘We did a tasting with the LCBO (Liquor Control Board of Ontario),’ says Charnock. ‘Zero interest. They’re only interested in wines actually made in Canada.’

Which worries him. He’s got big reds from Washington sitting in his cellar, developing flavours. ‘We’re going to be releasing Malbec, Syrah, and Cabernet Sauvignon made with Washington grapes in 2027 or 2028. Will people still care?’

Cross-border collaborations are now advertised with, well, caution. SpearHead Winery’s Dual Citizen line, sourced from Washington’s Yakima Valley and vinified in Kelowna, is labelled with ‘Made Before the Madness’ stickers. Lightning Rock Winery’s Cross Border Collection is marketed with #MakeWineNotWar.

‘People are a little cynical when you put an American wine in front of them,’ says Whelan. ‘But if you start with the story of what happened. The fact that we don’t have anything else to sell. We need to keep the lights on, keep people employed. It clicks for them.’

Building a better BC wine country

One year later, vines are recovering. There’s fruit in the valley. But the frost event bubbled up bigger questions. What varieties should the valley be working with? Are they planted in the right locations? What does the B.C. need to survive the future?

When growers and winemakers started getting wise to the province’s viticultural potential in the ‘80s and ‘90s, they planted everything. Sangiovese vines beside Riesling, Pinot Blanc and Pinot Gris beside Semillon and Chardonnay.

As the vines came up in 2024, growers approached replanting with a more strategic, surgical approach.

‘We’re reconsidering what grows well and where,’ says Munn. ‘If something is tough to grow in a frost bucket, why replant? We could plant other varieties, or keep cattle.’

‘It’s an opportunity to get rid of varieties that probably shouldn’t have been planted in the Okanagan – refocus on what does best from a quality perspective,’ says Whelan.

There are more conversations around climate-proofing, clonal selection, and water availability. Cold-resistant hybrid grapes are on the table. Retrunking and hilling up is now the norm.

‘We still have to step through some barriers and pain thresholds,’ says Bryant. ‘Sadly, some businesses won’t survive. But we will have healthier vineyards, better clones, and the right varieties in the right locations. When we get there, BC’s wine country will be a much better place.’

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