The Dispute
The faces were weathered and tanned, and the people holding broken pump pipes and fractured PVC tubes were clearly not here with friendly intentions.
The man leading them spat out his chewing gum and shouted.
“It’s because of you bastards that this is broken!”
His voice was raspy, like a dry, parched wind.
“Ever since you drilled that new well, my fields are only pumping out air. Do you even know that?”
I furrowed my brow as I grasped the situation. I realized I was facing a problem more complex than I had anticipated.
This area of Lodi, where Chloe’s pear orchard is located, sits atop the San Joaquin Subbasin in the northern part of the San Joaquin Valley. The farms here share a common Aquifer. Because most farms irrigate through groundwater wells, it is a situation where, both legally and physically, no one knows exactly how much water anyone else is drawing.
Since they seemed to have come from several different farms, it was unlikely they were lying, which made the situation even more difficult.
“Please, everyone, calm down...”
As I stepped forward, the man in the lead barked at me.
“Who are you! Are you the farm owner?”
“The owner is Chloe here, and I am her mentor and Partner.”
“A partner...?”
At the word "partner," the group shrank back slightly. "Partner" could mean a simple investor, and young investors entering agriculture are often wealthy, armed with various lawyers and tax accountants—people who know that one shouldn't just lash out blindly at them.
The fact that they had come here spewing aggression before even letting us speak was clearly because they knew the owner was a young woman.
“First, please tell me the full story. At exactly which point are you experiencing a drop in water, and how much less are you getting than usual? Oh, Liam, could you record this conversation?”
“That... the camera is in the warehouse office.”
“That’s fine. Shall we go to our office and talk?”
They looked at each other before nodding.
“Fine, let’s go.”
The group began walking toward the office. Feeling uneasy, Chloe grabbed my waist and followed, whispering to me.
“I think I need to start carrying a pistol.”
“Do you even know how to shoot?”
“My dad taught me.”
“Haa...”
America... Of course, I’m not entirely against it. In this vast land, where it could take the police over 30 minutes to arrive if you aren't in a city, you have no means to protect yourself without a gun. I just worry about an accident happening.
Once we reached the office and everyone had taken their seats on chairs and sofas, I looked at the seven or so people who had come to the farm and spoke.
“Let me introduce myself again. I am Brian Choi, the mentor and partner of the farm owner, Chloe, and I operate a winery in Napa Valley.”
At the mention of a Napa Valley winery, the visiting farmers looked at each other, slightly startled. They were surprised to learn we weren't just some kids who didn't know anything, and they knew that the scale and revenue of a Napa Valley winery were incomparable to their own farms.
“I want to handle this rationally and fairly, so let’s have a calm discussion.”
If it were any other issue, I wouldn't be this accommodating, but when it comes to water issues while running a pear orchard, I have no choice but to be soft. Generally, Shingo pears require two to three times more water than grapes. Especially in the summer, they require a significant amount of water—about 20 to 30 liters per tree, per day.
That’s why I drilled a new well when I converted the tomato field into a Shingo pear orchard... but the problem was, even if that were the case, the water level should have only dropped by about a foot or two. I couldn't understand why they had all swarmed here like this.
“The bottom is sinking. Like I said before, my field isn't getting enough water. And it’s not just one or two places like that.”
“I understand. So, you’re assuming our pear orchard is the problem, right?”
“That’s right. It wasn't like this when this place was a tomato farm.”
“Alright. Then let’s do this. We’ll file a complaint with the Lodi Water District and request an investigation into ‘interference’ between the wells.”
For a moment, the faces of the farmers, including the leader, twisted slightly as they looked at each other. It was a perfectly sensible proposal, but also one that couldn't be made easily unless one was truly confident.
Everyone here knew that if the investigation concluded that the pear orchard was the cause of the lowered groundwater level, we would have to compensate all the surrounding farms, resulting in a massive loss.
“Are you really going to do that?”
“Yes! If there is a problem, we should identify it quickly and fix what needs to be fixed. But if it turns out it’s not our fault, wouldn't that clear up this misunderstanding quickly?”
“Look, logically, the water level dropped since the pear orchard was built, and now other farms aren't getting water. Or maybe you drilled the new well too deep.”
Groundwater varies by layer, but most farms share the Shallow Alluvial Aquifer. In this case, if a new well is drilled too deep (over 200ft), the pressure in the upper groundwater layer changes, causing nearby shallow wells to backflow or experience air intake, preventing water from rising in other farms.
Using too much water or drilling a well incorrectly like this can indeed harm other farms.
“The Lodi Water District will determine that as well.”
The farmers frowned at my calm response. They probably didn't have any concrete proof that the pear orchard was using an enormous amount of water. It had only been a year since we planted the saplings; how much water could we possibly be using?
They were just embarrassed because they had tried to storm into a pear orchard they thought was run by young, inexperienced people to demand a settlement, only to have it backfire.
“Fine, let’s do that. Let’s go, let’s go report it right now.”
Those who had come so aggressively soon swarmed back out.
“Will it be okay?”
To Chloe’s worried expression, I shrugged my shoulders.
“No matter how I think about it, this much shouldn't cause a problem with the water source. Remember how many times I requested how deep to drill when we set up the well?”
“I know.”
“So, I see almost no possibility that we caused a problem with the water source. The Lodi Water District will confirm it.”
I said that and looked at Liam.
“The swelling on the graft union from earlier is due to graft incompatibility. Shingo pears have a large physiological difference between the rootstock and the scion, so if the soil pH or moisture conditions aren't right, a hypertrophy phenomenon occurs at the graft union, looking like a scarf.”
“Oh...”
“To solve it, you need to correct the soil pH. After applying 100–200 pounds of sulfur per acre, you should do a Deep Plowing, or mix in peat moss, acidic leaf mold, or pine needle compost instead of regular compost, and it will gradually improve.”
Liam’s eyes widened in surprise as he said,
“I’ve heard a lot from the farm owner, but you really know everything when it comes to farming.”
Chloe chimed in from the side with a proud expression.
“See? I told you, didn't I?”
“Indeed. You really are a farming genius. I’ve never seen anyone provide solutions right on the spot like this in the field.”
I tried to suppress my embarrassment and added to the solution.
“If that doesn't work, you can apply Fe-EDDHA (a high-efficiency iron fertilizer used to prevent and treat iron deficiency in plants) or Zn-EDTA (a compound fertilizer where zinc ions are stabilized by being wrapped in organic molecules to increase absorption efficiency) via foliar spray two or three times.”
“Understood. I will do that.”
I turned my head back to Chloe.
“I’ve sent them away for now, but just in case, install CCTV at the farm entrance to prevent people from just walking in, and you should really keep a gun on hand, just in case.”
“Okay.”
It wasn't that I was telling her to prepare for a gunfight, but rather to be prepared for any unforeseen situation. In Korea, if you call the police or avoid a crazy person, you can escape most crises, but in America, the danger level of crazy people is significantly higher than in Korea, so it couldn't be helped.
“I’ll head back today, and I’ll come back when the Lodi Water District arrives.”
“Thank you.”
“What’s there to thank... it’s only natural.”
She smiled brightly at my promise to come and look after things on such an important day.
Four days later, London, Conrad St. James Hotel.
Two days had passed since thousands of wines were evaluated, and now only one moment remained.
Best in Show.
The host’s British accent echoed through the hall.
“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for waiting. After careful deliberation by judges from all walks of life, we will now announce the Best in Show for the 2007 Decanter World Wine Awards.”
The lights slowly dimmed, and wines from each region appeared on the screen in order. Europe, South America, Africa, New Zealand... and the final category, the United States.
The line we had been waiting and waiting for appeared.
Echelon 2005 – Redwood Winery, California.
Applause erupted, and flashes went off one after another. The host smiled and added,
“Redwood Winery has won the regional platinum. Congratulations!”
Christopher smiled and waved his hand, and Thomas clapped and shouted,
“We got it! It’s finally platinum!”
However, Christopher gave a bitter smile. It was certainly good, but... a single sentence displayed at the bottom of the screen made his heart ache.
Sylphide 2005 – Gold Medal.
Because Sylphide, which he distributed, had stopped at Gold. Honestly, even this was a tremendous achievement, but because Echelon had won the regional platinum, it inevitably led to an awkward comparison.
Because of this, he regretted even more that he had missed out on reviewing Echelon properly.
“Stopped at Gold.”
“It’s a shame.”
“Still, with just this level of achievement, New York will value Sylphide even higher than it does now.”
You don't need to be told how much the upper class in New York is obsessed with authority. The award from the San Francisco Chronicle held in the U.S. had a significant impact on the brand, but the DWWA held in the U.K. would undoubtedly grant it another level of authority.
“Right. That’s how it will be.”
After the awards ceremony, Christopher left the hall and called Brian to share this happy news.
“Hello?”
“Brian! It’s great news! Echelon has won the regional platinum!”
Christopher had expected him to be jumping for joy, but,
“Is that so? Thank you. And what about Sylphide?”
“Pardon? Gold. It’s a shame, but that’s how it turned out.”
“I am satisfied enough with Gold. You’ve worked hard. I’m busy right now, could I call you later?”
“Ah, of course.”
After the call ended, Christopher, feeling unnecessarily deflated, looked at Thomas with a bitter expression.
“Let’s go to a restaurant since we’re hungry. I need to soothe my aching heart.”
“Haha, let’s do that.”
While Christopher was taking a taxi with a pitiful expression, I was facing a group of people at Chloe’s pear orchard.
As expected, the same man from that day was chewing gum and raising his voice again.
“There’s definitely a problem! You need to investigate it properly!”
I shrugged my shoulders toward the investigators from the Lodi Water District—specifically, the North San Joaquin Water Conservation District—signaling that I would comply with the investigation.
“Understood. Since you’ve agreed, we will begin the investigation.”
The investigation to resolve the dispute had begun.