Huddled together we ascend a long stone path through a sheltered garden. The women are dressed in elegant black gowns as the filtered sunlight highlights wisps of their long hair. The fragrance of Jasmine blends with expensive perfume floating the still air as the sun hangs low in the sky. Passing exquisite roses, foxglove, hollyhocks the vibrant colors explode like fireworks as the dappled sun briefly caresses each petal. The warmth of the day is ebbing as the chill of the maritime breezes rolls down over the hills sweeping down along the valley floor. We pass under an arbor made of ancient weathered ebony timbers covered with the long purple plumes of wisteria as waiters dressed in black tuxedos pass out long fluted glasses of slightly chilled champagne. The mood is festive as our glorious weekend comes to an end in this closing event. In the distance the sounds of a solitary classical guitar marks the moment with a compliment of a songbirds singing in the tall oaks. As the sun sets behind the rolling hills the magic hour begins as the light softens revealing the deep green and blue hues in the shadows. The moment is so serene and beautiful that you begin to wonder what heaven might look like.
At the end of the stone path we wait in front of two huge oaken doors trimmed in hand hammered black iron hardware. The doors emerge from the steep hillside framed by a hand laid coffee hue native stone wall and covered in perfectly manicured rows of vines. Reflecting the fading light, the vines texture the hill like broad bold brushstrokes of a saw tooth trowel. Slowly the doors are opened revealing a tunnel filled as far as the eye can see with receding stacks of oak casks of aging wine each topped with a lit single candle providing as subtle flickering path of luminaries inviting us to enter. A sense of wonder emerges as we silently enter the tunnel in single file. Reminiscent of a medieval monastery the cool air makes you shutter briefly as dampness touches the skin. A slight musty scent invades your senses which remind me of a well aged camembert cheese. The odor is not offensive but comforting like digging your hands deeply into a rich hummus on the first day of spring. As we stroll down the long tunnel the delicate sounds of conversation echo and drift off the stone walls. The luminaries lead us down one tunnel to another, to another deeper into the hillside. A sound of a quartet is heard in the distance indicating we are approaching our final destination for the evening.
The crowd slows as the tunnel opens to expose a large cave filled with luminaries and glowing candelabras. Soft light warms the cave as shadows dance like giant marionettes across the ceiling. The room is filled with round tables covered in white linen and decorated with sparkling crystal stemware and bone china. In center of each table is flowing floral center piece of white and red roses woven into a wrought iron candelabra displaying six pale white candles. Casually the crowd coalesces into small groups of newly found friends as they gather at the tables. The walls of the cave is covered in neatly stacked French oak casks of Chardonnay. Each cask contains a time capsule of stored sunlight, rain and soil preserved to enjoy during life’s special occasions. A small quartet is quietly playing providing a subtle rhythm to the clinking of crystal glasses and echoes of laughter.
From behind the oaken casks emerge a flock of tuxedo attired waiters bring forth copiously amounts of fine wine to the grateful crowd. As the dinner begins the wine continues to flows as its color and favor changes with each return visit of the waiter. A brief explanation provides insight as to the fermentation method; the length of contact with French oak, how the grapes were harvested and what characteristic are to be experienced with each new glass. The gourmet cuisine is carefully crafted to showcase the regional cooking providing the perfect compliment to the tasting.
As the wine continues to flow the table conversation turns to the activities of the previous three days. The men tease each over the missed greens as the golfers weaved their way through the sunny hills and vineyards while smoking cigars. The women still basking in the glow of Swedish messages in the old world style European spa discuss discoveries of local lore. Images of the wineries visited flash in our mind as the newly acquired knowledge of the vine industry dominated the conversation. Smiles shine as brightly as the candles as intimacy resulted from our shared adventure. Promises to stay in touch were formalized with the exchange of business cards and kisses.
A semimetal note filled the air as our sponsor rises to speak. Everyone feels that the mystical moment in the sun was about to end and we would shortly resume our lives scattered to the four corners of the continent. The sponsor with a polished ease thanked all of the attendees for spending the weekend discussing matters of great importance to the nation. We shared insights and ideas which were recorded at various round tables discussions held during our time together. This collective wisdom enhanced each of our will and determination to move forward with an agenda for the future. The speaker indicated that the information gathered would begin to formulate a legislative policy and by speaking freely our contribution to a collective good was significant. One by one he thanked the contributing companies and institutions for providing the financial support to bring the group together at this summit.
His concluding comments focused on the endearing memories of our collective experience. The first round of golf by an Australian who by accident knocked out a goose on this first tee shot, which was noted by the speaker as “not exactly a birdie”. The corporate executive what was so disturbed that the group was leaving such fine wine on the table after dinner that she asked for it to be poured into three to-go soup containers for the journey back to the hotel. He made us laugh at the unfortunate executive that decided to wear a pink golf shirt to the wine tasting and was given the nickname “Pinky”. A nick name that will understandably stick to this poor fellow. The good natured teasing brought the group closer together. Finally a member of the crowd offered a toast to our sponsor who had the vision to plan the event, which was followed by a warm extended round of applause. Then as if waking from a dream the evening was over.
In is with an unshakeable confidence as I leave the Silverato Trail, I will return to this beautiful piece of serenity tucked against the hills in this long narrow valley. From this time forward each of us that were present holds a special bond of our time together, providing us the glimpse of hope that the world can change. What will endure most in my mind is the knowledge that until the end of my time on the earth, I will be able to savor this memory with every sip of a 2006 Silverato Trail wine. Each bottle will remain a small time capsule of the sun, rain, warm, earth, friendship, love and laughter of moment I stood in the valley.
