22 Mar Permission to Cross
Growing up in Rutherford and Oakville, Napa Valley, there wasn’t much of a neighborhood in the traditional sense. Vineyards stretched farther than streets and, on most days, the land itself felt like my only companion.
Before the modern distractions of today came easily, I learned early how to entertain myself by setting out. That meant leaving the house with no real plan beyond curiosity and adventure, trusting that the day would take shape once I was in it.
When I was young, I set out on bicycle. I would cover miles of quiet, dirt roads, with the smell of soils and fast growing vines, making an impressionable mark in memory. I found fishing ponds tucked behind rows of Cabernet, places I only discovered by riding until something caught my eye. When I grew older still, riding an ATV with a .22 rifle in hand, the sense of independence deepened. The pursuits changed—targets, squirrels, jackrabbits—but the purpose was the same: motion, solitude, and the freedom of wide-open space. There, I was present.
Our home on Rutherford Road offered little in the way of land to explore. There were no back acres to envelop me, no creeks or hills that belonged to us. So, freedom to pass from place to place came by way of asking permission from the many people who owned land like us throughout Napa Valley.
I learned the names early: Andy Beckstoffer. Chuck Carpy of Freemark Abbey. Pat Garvey at Flora Springs. Justin Meyer of Silver Oak. Dennis Groth. Stan Teaderman. Lori Woods of Woods Ranch. Tony Peju. Legendary Cabernet farmers, yes—but to me, they were gatekeepers of possibility. They didn’t have to say yes. But as the valley was then, they always did.
With a nod, a wave, or a simple “careful out there kid” their vineyards opened up into entire worlds for me. Rows became corridors. Creeks became hiding places. Dirt roads became so familiar, I would see a map in my head, as though it were my vast territory and I was its guardian. I rode, walked, fished, hunted, and wandered across some of the most important ground in American wine—not as a future winemaker or farmer, but simply as a curious, adventurous, outdoors kid.
Those days were an education no classroom could offer. I learned respect for land that belonged to us. I learned patience. I learned how silence can be a companion and a teacher. And I learned that generosity—especially quiet, unspoken respect—has a deliberate way of shaping a person long before they realize it’s happening. This is where my sense of adventure was born and has remained. Nothing makes my work day better than starting out at dawn in the vineyards.
Looking back now, what felt like asking for permission to cross was a lesson in trust and respect. It was an incredible upbringing—one rooted in land, and in a Napa Valley that still allowed a kid to roam and dream. That memory inspired me to name Venge’s newest Cabernet Sauvignon, “Permission to Cross” – internally known as PX2.
This is a wine that ushers in a moment in our winery’s history as we are entering an era of great vintages in a row. Not in the history of the valley have I witnessed three vintages of greatness. In addition to the new PX2 Cabernet Sauvignon, I am very excited to announce that Scout’s Honor is coming back to its roots and now sourced 100% from Napa Valley! Oh I cannot wait for you to taste the 2024 vintage as it is simply spectacular! Finally, included in your club member shipment, is the 2024 Old Vine Zinfandel from my home ranch at Signal Fire Vineyard. Friends, this wine is a wine of heart and soul as it reminds me of my roots.
Nostalgia is seeping into my bones as I write this newsletter having hit the milestone age of fifty years old. As I look back, I am most grateful for all of you coming with me on this winemaking journey. Thank you for supporting our dreams. Without you Venge Vineyards is not possible.