Note: this story was originally published in Vista magazine.

You can forgive visitors for getting lost on their way to the Vincent Arroyo Winery in Calistoga, California. Easy to miss, the place is on a quiet country lane at the end of a long gravel path, past acres of grape vines, past the rose garden, past the black Labrador retriever snoozing in front of a barn. Compared to the glitzy commercial wineries in Napa Valley, this one is unassuming. There’s no fancy facade, no snazzy retail shop, no expensive artwork on the walls.

Inside the gray barn, the air is cool and fragrant. Wine-filled oak barrels are stacked one atop another. A small makeshift table behind a curtain serves as a tasting room. The black Lab — her name is J.J. — hops up from her nap and wanders inside. She grips a golf ball in her mouth in hopes that someone will play fetch with her.

And then there’s the winemaker: Vince Arroyo. Soft spoken, slightly round, and as unpretentious as his namesake winery — he greets visitors, pours wine, signs bottles.

But don’t let the casual simplicity of the place fool you. Vince Arroyo’s hand-crafted wines have put a star on many Wine Country maps as a spot that shouldn’t be missed. Thousands of wine lovers find their way here every year, snapping up almost 6,000 cases. His signature Petite Sirah,  so popular that people line up on a waiting list for it, sells out even before it is bottled.

And don’t let Vince Arroyo’s mild-mannered demeanor deceive you either. He may seem gentle as a lamb, but he has the tenaciousness of a pitbull. “I usually don’t stop when I make up my mind to do something,” he says.

Quite an understatement when you consider the obstacles he overcame to establish his boutique winery. He gave up a Silicon Valley engineering career, bought a 23-acre dilapidated ranch, and spent the next seven years laboring to transform it into a thriving 68-acre vineyard. He worked alone – ripping out old prune trees, planting grape vines, working on the tractor and in the cellar. He ran out of money. He lost almost everything to fire. And still he didn’t give up.

He vividly remembers the day he decided to flee the corporate life and run a vineyard. “I was at work, bored to death,” he says. “I couldn’t stand being locked up in a building. I was at the point where I hated to get up in the morning. Then one of the guys I worked with told me that a ranch was for sale in Calistoga. I got out a map and drove up here the next weekend.”

The ranch wasn’t much to look at. There was an beat-up barn, some old prune trees, unhealthy grape vines, and a lot of chicken coops and rabbit hutches. “It was a mess. There was all kinds of junk,” Arroyo says. He jumped back in his car, drove home, returned to work on Monday. But he couldn’t stop thinking about the property — and the potential it had for changing his life. Two hours later, he quit his job, and he bought the ranch. “I decided the place needed me,” he jokes. Or maybe he needed the place.

Not that Arroyo was entirely new to winemaking. In the European tradition, both his Spanish father and grandfather made wine at home. Arroyo enjoyed his first glass at age 5. Nor was he a novice when it came to farming. As a boy and later, as a young man, Arroyo held summer jobs in the nearby agricultural community of Hollister. “I cut apricots, picked prints, drove tractors, hauled tomatoes,” he says. But back then, he never figured that he would ever return to working the land — or owning it.

After he bought the farm, he spent the next year working on it, while also working for his neighbors — for free, just to learn the ropes. “They grew grapes, and I wanted to see what a whole grape-growing season was like,” he explains. His savings began to run out, and he was forced to resume his former career as a mechanical engineer. For the next seven years, he commuted two hours each way to the San Francisco Bay. But he hadn’t given up on his dream: Nights and weekends he was back at his vineyard. “The hardest part was doing it all without any money,” he says.

Only once — in 1989 — did he think about giving up. “I looked out the back door and my barn was on fire! It burned down. I lost it all — the building and 10,000 gallons of wine. At that point, I finally said, ‘I don’t know if I can keep going.’”

But he rebuilt the cellar and started over. “I was committed. I had made up my mind,” he says. “The smartest thing I ever did was start this winery.” As he wanders among the rows and rows of vines, he stretches his arms and says, “People see this and say, ‘Look at this! Isn’t this beautiful!’ But I look at all this and say, ‘Look at all this work!’”

Arroyo still handles many of the chores around the winery himself. “This morning I pumped wine from the bottom of the tank to the top, to circulate it. Then I ran a forklift. And  did a little tractor work out in the field. I don’t ask anyone to do anything that I wouldn’t do myself,” he explains. “A lot of people come here with romantic notions about wine, but when you are on this end of it, it’s hard to find that romance. The romance comes in when you sit down with someone you care for and can finally have that nice glass of wine.”

Biking down the coast

WINE COUNTRY BIKING, CONTINUED FROM PREVIOUS POST .

WHERE THE RUSSIAN RIVER MEETS THE SEA: After a short river break, due to the sweltering heat, we decided to drive the remaining River Road portion of the route and continue our bike ride at the coast. We took a short detour along lovely Moscow Road, lined with towering redwoods overlooking the river. These trees, which grow only from the central California to the southern Oregon coasts, are the tallest and among the oldest living things in the world.

The Russian River meets the sea at Goat Rock — home to a colony of harbor seals and part of the 17-mile long Sonoma Coast State Beach. We nabbed a picnic table, and Ken and Randy shooed Jennifer and me away while they prepared lunch (one of the major perks of a Getaway Adventures tour is the fabulous Wine Country lunches).

Wine Country Feast at the beach

She and I strolled along the sand, savoring the cool ocean breeze. But driven by hunger, we quickly made our way back to the boys. We were greeted by a feast: Pesto pasta salad with sun-dried tomatoes and artichoke hearts; organic greens with thick slices of ripe tomatoes; thick slabs of French bread with brie, melon chunks and sweet green grapes; and soft chocolate-chip cookies. Though Randy and Ken modestly claimed it was nothing special, Jennifer and I were wholly impressed.

After lunch, we got back on our bikes and pedaled single-file down serpentine Highway 1, careful to hug the white line on the narrow, but well-traveled road. We cycled past Whale Point, Arched Rock, Seal Rock, and Salmon Point, stopping frequently to gaze down at the dramatic views of the wild Sonoma coast — its long stretches of sandy beaches, craggy cliffs, secluded little coves, and striking rock formations. “This is spectacular,” Jennifer breathed.

By now it was downright chilly. I pulled on my windbreaker, listened to the waves crash on the rocks, and gazed down at the fog-shrouded sea. In a single day, I had experienced the best and most beautiful of Northern California — its rivers and redwoods, valleys and vineyards, and one of the most magnificent coastlines in the world. I pitied the people who just glimpse this glory from car windows.

Hop Kiln is a Sonoma County Landmark

CONTINUED FROM PREVIOUS POST . . . After an hour of cycling Westside Road, we parked our bikes at Hop Kiln Winery — one of the county’s most famous landmarks. The building, a former hop kiln, was built in 1905 by a crew of Italian stonemasons and is on the registry of National Historic Trust Buildings. The winery, with its wood beams and floors, was inviting and comfortable. Grateful to step into the air-conditioned coolness, I browsed among the art gallery and gift shop, admiring the grape-themed paraphernalia; then I joined Jennifer, Randy, and Ken in the tasting room.

Randy was describing a cabernet as “meaty,” and Jennifer was raving about her glass of “Big Red,” which, according to the label, had hints of chocolate and tobacco flavors. “Chocolate and tobacco?” she laughed. “No wonder I like it. ”

Meanwhile, a chatty pourer explained the differences between lactic acid and malic acid. The latter, she said, gives chardonnay a “buttery” texture. I sampled a white blend and was charmed by its name — “Thousand Flowers.” But I ended up purchasing a rose mostly for its brilliant fiery color. Randy bought a few bottles, too. And as we lugged our purchases out the door and into the van, I understood the wisdom of a support vehicle.

A blast of hot air hit us when we stepped outside. The temperature, it seemed, had soared a good 20 degrees while we were indoors. As we continued our ride, the sun beat down on my shoulders, burning my back despite gobs of sunscreen. My strength sapped, I struggled up slight inclines that I would have glided over in cooler weather. One hill overlooking the Russian River, while not particularly steep, seemed to stretch forever. “It (huff). Is (puff). Really (huff). Hot (huff, puff),” I complained, as my legs spun in tiny, ineffective circles. Jennifer wheezed her way past me. “This is grueling,” she said, her face splotched fuschia and glistening with sweat.

We spotted the van parked a few feet away. Embarrassed for Ken to see how slowly I was pedaling, I resolutely stared straight ahead. He stretched his hand out the window and blasted me with a spray of cold water from a squirt bottle.

Randy had dismounted near the end of Westside Road and waited for me in a small patch of shade. He pointed down at the river. “Let’s take a little dip,” he said. “We can chill and relax.” He suggested that we pile into the van and drive to the shore.

I meekly protested. “I thought the whole point is to bike,” I said.

“Normally, we would,” he said. “But in this heat . . . .”

Next: relaxing by the river, biking to Bodega Bay

CONTINUED FROM PREVIOUS POST . . .

Travel brochures brag that Sonoma County has a nearly perfect Mediterranean climate year-round, but I arrived in the midst of a record-breaking heat wave. The sun was already blazing by early morning. The local newspaper predicted that the temperature would exceed 110 degrees. “So you’re bike riding today. Is it going to be warm enough for you?” Honor Mansion’s innkeeper Steve Fowler  joked as he poured my third cup of coffee.

“No problem; I’m tough. I’ll just bring extra sunblock,” I chirped, plowing my way through Cathi Fowler’s famous caramel-apple-French toast.

Randy Johnson, owner of  Getaway Adventures, burst through the door as I polished off the last crumb of my apricot scone. He would provide Cannondale bikes, craft our route, and lead the way. Ken, another Getaway Adventures guide, handed out helmets and water bottles. He would drive the van.

“Why do we need a van?” I wondered. Randy explained that it comes in handy during a sudden rainstorm. Not likely, I thought, peering up at the cloudless sky.

“Don’t worry; the van won’t stay on our tail,” Randy promised.

My friend, Jennifer had gamely agreed to join me. By habit, she started to tie her red jacket around her waist. “You’re not going to need that today,” Randy said, tossing it into the van.

Randy suggested that we ride south about 15 miles along the grape-growing region of Westside Road, a wide country lane lined with scores of vineyards, then continue along the redwood-lined River Road (which follows the Russian River) until we reached the much cooler coast, where we could ride down Highway 1.  “Its’ a good way to see three different micro-climates in a one-day trip,” he said.

Licorice-scented fennel grew wild along Westside Road. The rolling hills were sun-baked; mostly brown but for spotty golden mustard patches; and studded with oak, bay, fir, pine trees and an occasional barn. Randy pointed out the different types of oaks dotting the landscape: Coast Live Oak, California Scrub Oak, Valley Oak.

As we rode, Randy and I chatted. He explained that he launched his biking business after a ski injury put him out of commission. In an effort to get back into shape, he took up bike riding. Soon he was tooling all over town. Then his uncle, a wine buyer, went cycling with him one day and suggested they combine bike riding with wine tasting. “My uncle taught me the finer points of wine tasting — the sniffing and the swirling,” Randy said.

Friends began asking him to escort them on wine-tasting bike tours. Some even offered to pay him. “That was the point when I realized that this could really, truly be a business,” he said. So he left his job as a newspaper advertising coordinator, and Getaway Adventures was born.

More to come . . .Next post: “Stopping for a Sip”

(a version of this story was previously published in Adventure Cycling Magazine).

I’ve always thought it a shame that visitors to California’s Wine Country spend much of their time, well, in wineries. Or worse, cloistered in cars as they blindly zoom from one tasting room to the next.

In the past, that’s what I, too, had done on my frequent tours of the region. After all, the area boasts hundreds of wineries, from the homespun and family owned to elegant establishments, and the temptation to cram in as many as possible can be irresistible. But on every visit, as I peered out the car window and regretfully watched the scenery fly by, I wondered what it would be like to instead cycle my way through Wine Country.

On a bike, I reasoned, I could combine wine tasting with sightseeing, adventure, and exercise. I would not just glimpse, but truly experience, the region’s breathtaking beauty — its olive groves, green pastures, winding country roads, rolling hills, and acres and acres of manicured vineyards. And so a few summers ago, I went Wine Country cruisin’.

The elegant Honor Mansion is a perfect base for a Wine Country getaway

The first thing I knew I needed was a base. I found it in Honor Mansion, a Victorian inn built in 1883 in the picturesque town of Healdsburg. Honor Mansion, lovingly restored by proprietors Steve and Cathi Fowler, was the perfect headquarters for my adventure. The inn is a short walk from the town square, with a fragrant, century-old magnolia tree shading the grassy front lawn, an enchanting koi pond near the back patio, and platters of home-baked cookies and iced tea luring guests into the cozy antique-furnished lobby.

Check back…I’ll tell you more about my Wine Country Cruisin’ adventures in my next blog!