The French Hermit, the Choapa Hills & the Electricity-Free Hand
Arnaud Faupin is a French winemaker who works as a hermit in the hills of Choapa — without electricity, with his family hundreds of kilometres away, producing some of the most uncompromising natural wines in Chile. His project, Vinos Alpa, is located in Salamanca, in the remote Choapa Valley of the Coquimbo Region, roughly 200 kilometres north of Santiago. Here, at approximately 800 metres above sea level, Arnaud produces around 8,000 bottles annually of 100% natural wine — made entirely without electricity, without pesticides, without fertilizers, and without any chemical intervention. The wines are Syrah and Pedro Jiménez — and occasionally Carménère, Viognier, Grenache, and Mourvèdre — grown in mineral-rich soils under the dual influence of the Andes and the Pacific Ocean. This is not romantic back-to-the-land fantasy; it is deliberate, rigorous, manual viticulture where every process — from vineyard to bottle — is carried out by mechanical and artisanal techniques alone.
The Frenchman, the Hermit Life & the Electricity-Free Hand
Arnaud Faupin is not Chilean. He is a French winemaker — a "franchute" in the local parlance — who left France to pursue a vision of natural winemaking in one of Chile's most remote and least celebrated valleys. He settled in Salamanca, a small town in the Choapa Valley, roughly 200 kilometres north of Santiago, and built his project, Vinos Alpa, from the ground up with a philosophy that is almost unheard of in modern viticulture: absolutely no electricity. From the vineyard to the cellar to the bottling line, every process is carried out by hand, by gravity, by mechanical force, or by the simple passage of time.
Arnaud lives alone in the hills — a hermit by choice and by necessity. His family is hundreds of kilometres away. The isolation is not a marketing narrative; it is the practical reality of making wine in a valley with ninety hectares of vines total, where the nearest major city is a four-hour drive and the infrastructure is minimal. But it is precisely this isolation that allows Arnaud to maintain his uncompromising standards. There are no industrial neighbours, no electrical grids to tempt him toward convenience, and no commercial pressure to scale up. He produces around 8,000 bottles per year — a tiny volume by Chilean standards, where industrial wineries measure output in millions of litres.
The decision to work without electricity was not a gimmick. It was a logical extension of natural winemaking philosophy: if the goal is to intervene as little as possible, then the absence of electricity forces a radical simplicity. No temperature-controlled fermentation. No electric pumps. No filtration machines. No artificial lighting in the cellar. Everything is done by hand, by foot, by manual press, by natural yeast, and by patience. The result is wine that is unfiltered, un-fined, and unadulterated — wines that carry the imprint of the Choapa hills and the hand of a Frenchman who chose to disappear into them.
"The franchute Arnaud Faupin works as a hermit in the hills of Choapa, without electricity and with his family hundreds of kilometers away. He is a romantic guy."
— Eduardo Brethauer, VCC & VIGNO Magazine
Salamanca, the Choapa Valley & the Andes-Pacific Hand
Salamanca is the largest town in the Choapa Valley, a tiny wine region in Chile's Coquimbo Region that lies roughly halfway between Santiago and La Serena. The valley is traversed by the Río Choapa, which rises in the Andes and flows westward to the Pacific Ocean. The wine region covers just ninety hectares of vines — a microscopic footprint compared to the 3,000 hectares of Maipo Valley or the vast expanses of Colchagua. But for those who know Chilean wine, Choapa is one of the most exciting frontiers for natural and terroir-driven viticulture — a place where the industrial machine has not yet arrived, and where small producers can still work with authenticity and independence.
The vineyards of the Choapa Valley sit at approximately 800 metres above sea level in an arid, elevated landscape. The climate is defined by a sharp diurnal temperature range: warm, sunny days and frigid nights, driven by the combined cooling influence of the Andes mountains to the east and the Pacific Ocean to the west. This dual influence creates a unique microclimate where slow ripening is the norm, natural acidity is preserved, and the wines develop a distinctive mineral clarity. The soils are mineral-rich, with a composition that stresses the vines and forces deep rooting — a terroir that is both challenging and rewarding for the patient vigneron.
Arnaud's vineyards are planted to Syrah, Pedro Jiménez, Carménère, Viognier, Grenache, and Mourvèdre — a mix of Mediterranean and local varieties that reflects both his French heritage and the realities of the Chilean climate. The Pedro Jiménez — a variety more commonly associated with fortified wines in Spain — is a particularly unusual choice, but in Arnaud's hands it produces a bubbly, orange, jasmine-scented wine of real originality. The Syrah thrives in the warm days and cool nights, developing black fruit, spice, and vibrant acidity. All vines are farmed without pesticides or fertilizers, with treatments limited to sulphur and manual labour. The vineyard is not a separate entity from the surrounding landscape; it is part of the arid, windswept, mineral-rich hills of Choapa.
Salamanca is the principal town of the Choapa Valley, a small agricultural settlement surrounded by vineyards, scrubland, and the dramatic peaks of the Andes. It is not a wine tourism destination — there are no luxury hotels, no tasting rooms with panoramic views, no shuttle buses from Santiago. What Salamanca offers is silence, authenticity, and a community of small producers who are building something from nothing. Arnaud is part of the Cooperativa de Vinos del Choapa, formed in 2018, which unites six local wineries committed to producing wines, piscos, and liqueurs from their own grapes. For Arnaud, Salamanca is not a place to visit; it is a place to disappear into — a town where a French hermit can make wine without electricity and be left alone to do so.
The Choapa Valley is one of Chile's smallest wine regions, with only ninety hectares under vine. It lies 200 kilometres north of Santiago, at the confluence of Andean and Pacific influences. The Río Choapa brings water from the mountains to the sea, creating a narrow corridor of arid, elevated land where viticulture is possible but never easy. The days are warm and sunny; the nights are cold and clear. The soils are mineral-rich, with a composition that stresses vines and produces concentrated, acidic, deeply expressive wines. It was the commercial producer De Martino that first put Choapa on the map with its Legado Syrah, but it is producers like Arnaud Faupin who are giving the valley its soul — proving that the best wines from Choapa are not industrial products but handmade, natural expressions of a specific and difficult place.
Arnaud's vineyards sit at approximately 800 metres above sea level — high enough to benefit from the cooling Andean winds, but low enough to retain the warmth needed for phenolic ripeness. The soils are mineral-rich, with a composition that drains well and forces vines to struggle. This is not the fertile alluvium of the Central Valley; it is rocky, arid, and demanding. The mineral character of the soils is evident in the wines — particularly the Syrah, which shows a distinct stoniness and saline edge, and the Pedro Jiménez, which carries a chalky, earthy quality that is unmistakably Choapa. The elevation, the minerals, and the dual mountain-ocean influence create a terroir that is unique in Chile — and ideal for a winemaker who wants to work without electricity and without compromise.
The absence of electricity at Vinos Alpa is not a lack but a deliberate choice. Without electric pumps, Arnaud uses gravity and manual transfer. Without temperature control, he relies on the natural coolness of the cellar and the ambient conditions of the Choapa nights. Without artificial lighting, he works during daylight hours and by candlelight when necessary. Without electric filtration, he lets the wines settle and clarify by time alone. This is not nostalgia for a pre-industrial past; it is a practical, rigorous application of minimal-intervention philosophy. The result is wine that has never been touched by a machine, a current, or a chemical additive — wine that is, in the truest sense, handmade.
The Manual Press, the Natural Yeast & the Patient Hand
Arnaud Faupin's winemaking is defined by a single, unbreakable rule: no electricity, ever. This constraint shapes every decision in the cellar and forces a return to techniques that most modern winemakers have forgotten. Grapes are hand-harvested and transported to the cellar by manual labour. Fermentation is carried out by indigenous yeasts — no commercial inoculation, no temperature control, no stainless steel tanks with cooling jackets. The wines ferment in whatever vessels the ambient temperature allows, and they ferment at their own pace, sometimes faster, sometimes slower, always unpredictable.
Pressing is done by manual press or by foot. Transfer between vessels is by gravity or by hand. Racking is done by siphon. Bottling is carried out with simple, non-electric equipment. The wines are not filtered, not fined, and not stabilized with any product. Clarity is achieved by settling and time — by letting the wine rest until the solids fall to the bottom of the barrel or tank. Sulphur is used minimally, if at all — the natural acidity of the Choapa Valley and the hygienic rigour of Arnaud's process provide most of the protection the wines need.
The cellar arsenal is necessarily simple: old barrels, concrete or stone vessels, and whatever tanks can be managed without pumps. There are no shiny new barriques, no rotary fermenters, no reverse osmosis machines. The only tools are the ones that have been used for centuries — hands, feet, gravity, time, and patience. This approach is not without risk: without temperature control, fermentations can stall or overheat. Without filtration, wines can be cloudy or unstable. Without sulphur, they can oxidize or spoil. But Arnaud accepts these risks as part of the covenant. The wines that survive are the ones that were meant to be — wines of real character, real place, and real human effort.
The Electricity-Free Covenant
The guiding principle of Arnaud's cellar is that the best wine is the one that needs the least technology. The absence of electricity is not a handicap but a liberation — it removes the temptation to intervene, to correct, to standardize. Without temperature control, the wine reflects the vintage and the season. Without filtration, it retains its natural texture and microbial complexity. Without pumps, it is never shocked or aerated against its will. The manual press extracts juice gently, preserving the delicate aromatics of the Syrah and the Pedro Jiménez. The natural yeast captures the microbial fingerprint of the Choapa hills. And the minimal sulphur — or none at all — allows the terroir to speak without a chemical mask. The cellar is a quiet, dark, cool space where a French hermit lets the Andes, the Pacific, and the mineral soil do the talking. The only light is daylight. The only heat is ambient. The only movement is human.
Syrah, Pedro Jiménez & the Electricity-Free Hand
The Vinos Alpa portfolio is small, focused, and entirely handmade — around 8,000 bottles per year of natural wine from a handful of varieties that Arnaud has chosen for their affinity with the Choapa terroir. The Syrah is the flagship — a red of surprising elegance and vibrant acidity from a region that was never supposed to be cool-climate. The Pedro Jiménez is the experiment — a white variety transformed into a bubbly, orange, jasmine-scented wine of real originality. Occasionally, Arnaud works with Carménère, Viognier, Grenache, and Mourvèdre — all farmed without chemicals, all fermented without electricity, all bottled without filtration or stabilization.
The French Hermit, the Choapa Cooperative & the Electricity-Free Hand
Vinos Alpa is not merely a winery; it is a manifesto realised — the story of how a French winemaker left his country, his family, and the comforts of modernity to produce 8,000 bottles of electricity-free natural wine in a remote Chilean valley. In an era when Chilean wine was defined by industrial scale, export volume, and technological intervention, Arnaud Faupin demonstrated that the most profound wines sometimes come from a hermit's cellar where the only tools are hands, gravity, and time. It is largely thanks to projects like Vinos Alpa that the Choapa Valley, the Coquimbo Region, and remote northern Chile now have a place in the global natural wine conversation. The same arid hills that the industrial machine bypassed have become, through his work, a source of some of the most uncompromising, handmade, and terroir-driven wines in the country.
The legacy of Arnaud Faupin is the legacy of the radical hand in Chilean viticulture. Arnaud is not a typical Chilean winery founder: he is a Frenchman who lives alone in the hills, who produces wine without electricity, who is part of the Cooperativa de Vinos del Choapa alongside five other small producers, and who believes that the best wine is the one that needs the least technology. He does not chase volume. He does not chase certification. He does not even chase recognition — his wines are known primarily through word of mouth, natural wine bars, and the RAW WINE community. He makes around 8,000 bottles per year — Syrah, Pedro Jiménez, and occasional experiments — and he makes them with the same rigour and patience that defined the natural wine movement in France's Beaujolais and Loire Valley. The absence of electricity is not a compromise; it is a philosophical stance that allows the wine to remain honest, unmanipulated, and deeply connected to its place.
The future of the project is tied to the future of natural viticulture and electricity-free winemaking in remote Chile — to the growing recognition that the best wines come not from the most equipped cellars but from the most committed guardians of simplicity, patience, and terroir. As the Syrah continues to set the benchmark for natural red wine in the Choapa Valley, as the Pedro Jiménez proves that even the most unlikely varieties can produce wines of world-class originality, and as the Cooperativa de Vinos del Choapa demonstrates that small producers can thrive through collaboration rather than competition, Arnaud Faupin remains what he has always intended to be: a hermit who became a farmer — a man who trusted the soil, the silence, and the absence of electricity, and who built something enduring in the hills of Salamanca. The dream is not finished. It is just beginning to ferment.
"They produce their grapes and their wines completely naturally. They don't use pesticides, fertilizer, or even electricity. Relying instead on mechanical techniques."
— The Vana Bond Tales, Valle del Choapa