We couldn’t go to San Francisco without visiting wine country for a day. But not wanting to drive, and on the recommendation of a friend, we opted for lunch on the Napa Valley Wine Train.
Our week in San Francisco coincided with one of the hottest Septembers in years and so it was another magical and sunny morning in the city when we arrived at the famous Ferry Building for the start of our journey, which would take us by boat across the bay to Vallejo. As we scurried across the water, a bank of fog appeared behind us, concealing some of San Francisco’s greatest landmarks. Only the tops of the tallest buildings and the hills peered out above it, giving the appearance of a city floating on the clouds.
On the ferry were a dozen or so others who were planning to spend the day on the train. Usually we’d avoid these highly organised, mass-produced tourist trips, preferring a bit more independence, but the tour made an otherwise complicated journey simple and time wasn’t on our side. As a group we were collected at Vallejo and ferried by minibus to the McKinstry Street Station in Napa, where any illusions we had that our rather expensive Ambassador Winery Tour would be small and exclusive were instantly dispelled.
Several hundred folk had gathered, displaying that sense of controlled panic you get in a group of people when free drink is involved – a panic driven by the desire not to be left at the back of the queue and empty-handed. I admit that I was one of those fearful of going without…
It was still early but we helped ourselves to a glass or two while one of the ‘wine educators’ (???) gave us a quick guide to the valley and its famous product. It ended with a none-too-subtle invitation to visit the souvenir shop, where folk could relieve themselves of more cash. Ushered to the train, we had to pose for one of those embarrassing souvenir photos, which added a few more dollars to the rapidly expanding bill.
But once we got aboard my cynicism drained away because these were classic Pullman dining cars, beautifully restored to reflect the golden era of first class train travel. They looked magnificent and luxurious.
The train rumbled out of the station, on tracks built in the 1860s and that originally stretched all the way to the spa town of Calistoga. These days the line is just 18 miles long, running through Napa, Yountville, Oakville and Rutherford before terminating at St Helena. And it’s probably the slowest rail journey I’ve ever taken, doubtless because at full tilt the train would be at its destination just in time for our starters.
For lunch we were placed with a friendly family from New York, who were visiting California on vacation. And we were all impressed with the food – mine a perfectly cooked medium rare steak, accompanied by a gorgeous ZD Wines Pinot Noir. I think we’d both feared that mass catering on the train would result in average fare but we couldn’t have been more wrong.
We withdrew to a beautiful 1915 Pullman lounge car for a delicious dessert, coffee and port, and watched the valley drift by – vineyard after vineyard drenched in sunshine, the green hills beyond. Other than the towns and villages, it looked like every square foot of the valley had been turned over to viniculture. As far as landscapes go, it wasn’t exactly diverse but it made a change from the built-up cityscape of San Francisco. Pudding over, we trotted off to the other end of the train for a hurried wine-tasting session (more expense) before leaving the train early to continue our Ambassador’s tour by road. We disembarked into a furnace, and rushed for the air-conditioned minibus that would take our much smaller party on the rest of the tour.
We drove past row after row of vines and the occasional winery, heat haze shimmering through the valley, before we stopped at Raymond Vineyards. I thought for one hideous moment that we were going to get a lecture outside in the burning heat and prepared to lose several layers of skin, but we were soon ushered indoors and the air-conditioned surroundings of their premises to hear about their history and the wines they produce. A family-operated winery, it’s been a Napa Valley fixture for decades. We tasted more excellent plonk and, inevitably, were invited into the shop on the way out.
Our final stop happened to be ZD Wines, maker of the Pinot Noir we’d relished on the train earlier. Organic, family run, small-scale, this was a charming winery in beautiful grounds planted with colourful flowers. The views across the valley were to die for. We were treated to an enthusiastic presentation, which was followed by more wine tasting. By now, I had had far too much alcohol and was gushing my appreciation for their products with just a little too much enthusiasm.
We were ferried through the shop on our way out and I bought a bottle of their organic Pinot Noir before falling into the minibus, followed by Graham. I tried to keep my eyes open as we headed south back to the ferry but it had been a busy and enjoyable day, full of booze, and I was asleep in minutes.
And when I did finally waken I knew that my evening in San Francisco was going to be a struggle…