Gordon Rawson has relied on books, good advice and lots of experimentation in perfecting his wines at Chatter Creek. The label features a gnarled madrona tree and a full moon in a night sky.

YOU'VE SEEN THOSE one-man bands, simultaneously strumming, squeezing, banging, blowing, swinging and shaking a guitar, banjo, snare drum, cymbal, harmonica, squeeze box, trumpet and bicycle horn, using every available finger, toe and bit of lung power.

Gordy Rawson is the wine-making equivalent. Asked how many hats he wears, he quickly replies "all of them." Not that a lot of small, start-up wineries aren't essentially solo operations. But at 1,500-plus cases, Rawson's Chatter Creek winery is not all that small; nor, entering its 10th year, is it a start-up.

Rawson, 48, has been in the wine business since he began driving a delivery truck for P&S (a Seattle-area distributor) in 1983. "I went to work," he recalls, "knowing only that wine came in red, white and pink, and sometimes it bubbled. But it didn't take too long to figure out it was pretty good-tasting stuff and pretty cool to drink."

Rawson is one of those people who wants to make anything he likes. He tried his hand at apple wine and won best of show at both the Island County Fair and Woodinville Wine Festival; made his first zinfandel and riesling in '84; and barreled into gamay, Muller-Thurgau, merlot and sparkling wine in '85. Jumping into making bubbly, any winemaker will tell you, is like learning to ride a horse by entering the Kentucky Derby.

Book learning and relentless experimentation guided him, along with generous advice from wine sellers and makers. A warehouse job opened up at Columbia Winery, and he grabbed it, seeing a chance to prove himself to Columbia winemaker David Lake, already a rising star in the Washington industry. By the fall of '85, Rawson was Lake's cellar master.

Asked for a job description, Rawson pauses thoughtfully. These days, he sports a salt-and-pepper mustache and round, wire-rim glasses. As he speaks he gestures broadly, his eyebrows knit into a large "V" atop the glasses. He could play an absent-minded professor on TV.

The cellar master, he explains, runs the crush crew; gets the wine ready for bottling; does the filtration and fining; physically makes the wine. "David Lake called the shots as far as stylistic/art decisions," he is quick to add. "My crew and I did the physical work." Lake began including Rawson in much of the decision-making.

By 1996, a series of life-changing events sparked the decision to bond his own winery. Rawson's father suffered a stroke, and he himself was about to turn 40. "It made me think about how easy it is to get into a rut and piddle your life away," he candidly admits. "I knew from being in the wine business it usually takes 10 years before you see any results, so I'd be 50. And I'd seen too many guys wait until they were in their 60s and have a few good vintages and then die of a heart attack."

Never one to choose the easy path, Rawson began by making sparkling wines in '96, '97 and '98, bottled and sold under the Alexia label. Critic Tom Stevenson, author of the "World Encyclopedia of Champagne & Sparkling Wine," called the Alexia Blanc de Noirs "the best sparkling wine to come out of Washington so far." Though he'd met Stevenson, Rawson admits he had never seen that review. Which may be why the marketing side of the business has been its weakest link.

Other troubles loomed. The makers of Alexi vodka brought a trademark-infringement lawsuit against Alexia. "How anyone could have gotten a cheap Russian vodka confused with a $20 bubbly I have no idea," Rawson says with more than a hint of exasperation. The settlement cost him $10,000 and effectively put a stop to his sparkling wine-making, though unlabeled, well-aged bubbly still claims some space in his cluttered winery.

He started making cabernet in 1998, shortly after being promoted to winemaker for Cascade Ridge, a budget label affiliated with Columbia. Needing a new name and label for his own wines, he hit upon Chatter Creek, a favorite fishing spot from childhood. "I was looking for something that wouldn't get me sued," he wryly notes.

Chatter Creek debuted in January 2000, as his run at Cascade Ridge ended. Production has slowly climbed to 1,500 cases annually, an interesting mix of whites and reds, all made in quantities of just a few hundred cases. Especially good are the single-vineyard syrahs; the supple, generous cabernet franc; and Chatter Creek's pinot gris (one of this state's best).

He cheerfully admits to being totally overwhelmed at times but loves the independence and the relentless challenges. "Make this clear," he insists: "I'm not another (amateur) wine clubber that decided that wine-making is cool. I'm in this for the long haul. My exit strategy is feet first."

You know the truck driver in the Lowell George song, bloody and battered but still on his feet? That's Gordy Rawson. He's crushed every kind of grape ever made, and he's still willin'.

Paul Gregutt writes the Wednesday wine column for The Seattle Times and teaches wine-tasting seminars. He can be reached at tastesmart@aol.com. Barry Wong is a Pacific Northwest magazine staff photographer.