My Sparkling and Surreal Experience As a Water-Tasting Judge |
It’s a Saturday night in late February, and I’m in small-town West Virginia witnessing an unexpected stand-off. In the garden room of The Country Inn of Berkeley Springs are forty, maybe fifty people, crowded against each other. About 100 more spectators are watching from the perimeter. At the centre of the action are the gleaming prizes they’re vying for: unopened bottles of water, piled in the middle of the floor. Some have brought backpacks and tote bags, hoping to fill them with imported H2O from countries as far-flung as Tasmania and Turkey. All have signed the mandatory waiver absolving the event organizers should one incur injury.
These people aren’t here because of a water shortage. What I’m seeing is the “water rush,” the traditional finale of the Berkeley Springs International Water Tasting competition. For thirty-five years, this historic spring town, nestled in the Appalachian Mountains, has been the gathering place for the world’s most passionate drinking water enthusiasts, an annual event dubbed “the Oscars of Water.” Over the years, hundreds of water purveyors from dozens of countries have competed in several categories, including Purified Bottled, Bottled Carbonated, Bottled Non-Carbonated, and perhaps most coveted of all, Municipal.
The awards attract employees from regional public water utilities and bottled water company reps, people who work with water for a living. But there are also water superfans. Mara Iskander and Reed McConnell, a couple in their early thirties, drove more than ten hours from Chicago to attend. On a recent trip to California, they were able to also sample the tap water in towns that had previously medalled at Berkeley Springs.
Then, there are the locals, for whom this is the marquee event of the winter. More than one has warned me the water rush can get a little rowdy. With this in mind, the contest’s long-time producer and co-host Jill Klein Rone addresses the rushees before the ceremonial countdown. There are fewer bottles to go around this year because shipping costs are up and fewer competitors have entered. She asks that people be considerate of each other: “Be nice, play fair. No pushing, no shoving.”
The countdown begins from five, the room joining in en masse. We reach “one.” The crowd lurches forward.
*Pop!!*
Immediately, the sound of breaking glass cuts through the din. “Everybody stop, please! Stop taking water!” Klein Rone pleads as water spills onto the floor. The shards need to be cleared away before they can resume. However, a few enterprising individuals use the impromptu timeout to stuff their coffers. “I said, stop taking water!” Klein Rone repeats emphatically.
We may be at the Oscars of Water, but this feels more like Black Friday at Walmart. What did I get myself into?
For those of us with reliable access to it, water’s ubiquity has made it mundane—the liquid equivalent of breathing, so essential we’ve learned not to notice it. Maybe not even appreciate it.
As a child, I almost exclusively drank bottled spring water from one of those big, old jug dispensers you associate with offices. My parents grew up in Hong Kong during the 1950s and ’60s, when people often boiled their water because of concerns over cholera and other waterborne illnesses. It’s an ingrained mentality they carried over with them when they first moved to Canada: you can’t truly trust the tap. Since moving to Toronto in my twenties and meeting my wife (a lifelong and ardent tap water devotee), I’ve been a convert. I fill up straight from the faucet.
But I’ve recently come to realize that I know embarrassingly little about how that water gets into our home and what people do to ensure that it’s as plentiful and safe as possible. Then, I found out about Berkeley Springs and figured this would be an opportunity to learn the ins-and-outs of the water business. I reached out to Klein Rone, hoping to get media accreditation to cover the event.
“How would you like to be a judge?” she asked.
I immediately agreed.
The judging panel often includes media personalities and travel writers to help draw attention to Berkeley Springs. Because, on one hand, this is very much an offbeat contest trying to boost local tourism during the winter months. People who sell and deliver water can use any wins for marketing. But throughout the years, Berkeley Springs has also brought in environmental researchers, sanitation specialists, and sustainability experts for panel discussions.
“For me, it always comes back down to that: we must protect our water,” Klein Rone says. This means talking about water: how we’re getting it, how we keep it flowing, and, yes, even how it’s tasting. These discussions take on new urgency as rising global........