Old Vines Story and Significance

 One of the first things we do when we return in the new year at Turley is gather in Paso Robles to taste through the new spring wines. Whenever possible, I take the train. The soft, leisurely journey—what is usually a 3+ hour drive becomes a 6+ hour voyage on the gently rocking, aptly named Coastal Starlight—encourages relaxation, urging you to be in the moment. Nothing you can do to influence your arrival time, so you may as well embrace the gift of the present: the breathtaking expanse of the raw countryside, coupled with captivating views of the coast. Traveling this slowly allows you to take in so much more of the vivid details; I’ve witnessed a herd of wild boar, foxes, and deer alongside vibrant bursts of wildflowers, dotted with sage, Bishop pine, and vernal pools. This year, the ride home took place at sunset, and we passed a consortium of surfers, boards in hand, wildly waving while they waited for the train to pass. 

    I highly encourage you to make the same journey if you get the chance. However, for a similarly unhurried, contemplative experience closer to home, may I suggest the stunning film Train Dreams on Netflix. The movie begins around 1917, and I was struck by what our corner of the world looked like then, how people lived and traveled. It takes place at the same time Kirschenmann, Pesenti, Vineyard 101, and Whitney Tennessee were being planted; meanwhile, Bedrock had been put in the ground nearly 30 years prior. How much the world has changed, and yet these vineyards remain, vestiges of a slower time, when we lived closer to and more in kind with the land. It is only fair to give these wines their due, savoring each sip to better appreciate the wisdom, beauty, and delight they have to offer. After all, the present is a gift, and gifts, like wine, are best when shared.

Here’s to slowing down, and looking up, in 2026.

Christina Turley