Ah, yes - where was I?

What the hell were we doing?

That's right, they were my last words as we started hiking Mt Lofty with an eski full of ice and Tapanappa Tiers Vineyard Chardonnay. Why, you may well ask, were we carrying an eski full of Tapanappa?

We wanted to taste through it with Mr Michael Hill Smith, who was probably waiting for us up the top, admiring the view.

Now I'm assuming, given our international audience, that most of you haven't climbed Mount Lofty, so I'll give you the stats: It's 4.2 km long, and end up about 700m above sea level.

To a seasoned hiker, on a cool autumn's day, that's probably not so horrifying, but to a couple of scruffy winelovers, in jeans and bad shoes, on a 35 degree summer's day, carrying an eski that started weighing about 15kg and ended up weighing more like 150 (I'm sure), this ended up being the trek from hell.

If the point was to give us an intimate appreciation for altitude, then mission bloody accomplished, you cruel bastard. But if the idea was to give us an appreciation for cool climate Chardonnay, then I can tell you straight up, the point was sorely missed on the journey.

Only a quick pit-stop and the icy-cold Tapanappa saved us from death by exposure to the elements.

Two hours later... sweating like pigs after a bender, chafing in places that simply aren't pleasant, and questioning our enthusiasm for this entire journey, we stumbled up to onto Mount Lofty Summit, where a decidedly smug and clearly amused Michael Hill Smith was waiting, with 3 glasses of Shaw & Smith M3 Chardonnay 2006 waiting.

Gatorade for grown-ups. Never has an ice-cold Chardonnay tasted better, I can honestly tell you.

For a cruel bastard, Michael you make a mean Chardonnay. I'm talking the kind of wine that could single-handedly sway the staunchest ABC constituent.

We're talking lean, tight acid, bright, crisp lime and white peach, with this flinty, savoury minerality and spice that gives it such an interesting edge.

Amazing wine, really truly, and bloody refreshing :)

Michael Hill Smith is one of those people that I'll remember having met for the rest of my days, with infectuous passion and humour, a twinkle in his eye, and an excitement for Chardonnay, for the Adelaide Hills, and for wine in general that reminds us why we're so hooked on vino.

I dare say his flash-backs to a stint in a similar kombi at the 1971 Myponga Rock Festival may have had something to do with that twinkle in your eye, MHS. Don't come knockin' if the kombi's rockin'...

So on we went, even more convinced that the Chardonnay revolution was a comin', and our journey led us to a very small producer over in Charlestown with a very funky cellardoor, making about a hundred cases of a Piccadilly Chardonnay that rocked my bus.

Brendan Keys looks like he'd be as much at home manning the turntables in his cellardoor spinning funkier tracks than I'm used to, as he would be coaxing magic out of his vines.

Scruffier even than we are, he's got big dogs, a very cute little son named Archer who walks like I did for the last km of Lofty, and a very pregnant wife.

He also makes a Chardonnay that hits the spot. It's bigger and butterier than the Tapanappa and the M3, but it's still got that great acid structure and length. Popcorn, he describes in his tasting notes.

But his small producer passion is what really impresses. He's not afraid to share his opinions; an idealist, who's standing by his cause. He loves Chardonnay, he loves making Chardonnay (he'd make 20 if he could), and he really is championing it with gusto.

And his wine speaks the truth. 

Adelaide Hills Chardonnay is the way forwards. Don't like Chardonnay? You'll like these. 

Hell, we climbed a mountain for Adelaide Hills Chardonnay, and if Brian, Michael and Brendan were waiting up the top with an eski, a glass, and a bottle of magic, then we'd climb it again!