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Part 3: With a population of 75,000, Napa is the workhorse gateway
to a string of several hundred wineries tucked among tiny, picturesque
towns.
By Yvonne Michie Horn — Spring
2005
NAPA AND BEYOND
Napa traces its roots to the California Gold Rush. Hastily built storefronts
gave way to fine edifices of stone and brick as Napa established itself.
Merchants and steamboat captains built houses as extravagant as purse
strings allowed. Today, dozens of buildings are on the National Register
of Historic Places.
With a population of 75,000, Napa is the workhorse gateway
to a string of several hundred wineries tucked among tiny, picturesque
towns. The throngs of tourists that threaten to overwhelm the 37-mile-long
valley had long overlooked Napa proper, but the Mondavi family changed
that with Copia: The American Center for Wine, Food & the Arts. They
invested a big chunk of Copia’s $55 million price tag, and when it
opened in 2001, tourists discovered that, lo-and-behold, Napa was a swan.
Hoisting my umbrella, I crossed the river to see what
activities were going on at Copia that day. There was wine tasting, a
saké presentation, and dozens of wildly entertaining, thought-provoking
exhibits. Culture center, yes. Stuffy, no. Fun, you bet.
Entrepreneurial Napans have also opened tasting rooms
where one can sample the valley’s best and have it packaged to take
home. Restaurants that rival the acclaimed up-valley eateries have also
opened to critical acclaim (see “Eat,
Drink, and Be Merry” sidebar).
More dreary weather greeted us our second day in Napa.
No matter; there was the bright anticipation of the Wine Train and tasting
at Grgich Hills. Sunshine at last accompanied us the following day as
we returned downriver, binoculars poised to watch the mallards, green-winged
teals, and more. As we re-entered San Pablo Bay, an incredible sweeping
vineyard tapestry was in sight.
Walker called for a bridge opening in the Mare Island
Straits and entered what he considers the most glorious cruising ground
around: a sparkling, island-dotted bay, an iconic bridge, and San Francisco’s
famous skyline. We cut through choppy Raccoon Straits to glimpse Horseshoe
Bay (Walker’s last Coast Guard post) at the foot of the Golden Gate
Bridge.
“Are you feeling nostalgic?” I asked.
“I miss it more than I can say,” he answered.
As we headed back toward the Club Nautique slip in Alameda,
I began to feel nostalgic, too. My first cruising adventure into my own
backyard was nearly complete.
Would I do it again? You bet.
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