J'AI UN TONNEAU.

Four short years ago, I traveled this precise route on the amtrak. The trek is lengthy, but the sightseeing is unparalleled. You are accessing views only seen by the tracks. As usual, I reported to the observation cart. Here, I used the ever-changing view as inspiration for my writing. My previous posts, MON DIEU LE TRAIN and TRENTE HUIT HEURE / LE SAC, give a passable report of this route once traveled. Therefore, I will be reluctant to provide it with an in-depth description. While I accomplished many Tom tasks, I spent most of my time conversing. For unknown reasons, strangers love to chitchat with me. I am never one to initiate the conversation, but I am a conversationalist nonetheless. A young lassie hailing from Durango and I gabbed for a collective sixteen hours. What an experience it is to go from stranger to old friend. Our in-depth discussions made the voyage fly by. I'll see you soon Banjo Babe! It was indeed another successful train voyage!

Just like that, I was back in California. The feeling of home was strong upon my return to the vineyard house. My second harvest at the renowned Moshin Vineyards was about to commence. We were blessed with a solid ass team. It was primarily composed of Americans. Despite my initial disappointment, the United States is quite diverse in itself. My new homies hailed from all parts of the country. This brought many unique personalities to the table. It was a lengthy and arduous harvest for us. Nine twelve-hour days in a row would bring most minds into insanity. Lucky for me, I am a self-professed madman, and I treasured every moment of it. We surely made a lot of swill, at least in comparison to last year. We processed some two hundred and seventy-five tons, which is quite a feat for a small family-owned winery. The knowledge I acquired this go around was unfathomable. I even had the gall to start procuring my own personal wines.

We labored our asses off! This is not a matter up for debate. Luckily, there was a work hard, play hard attitude. There was plenty of time to partake in the ritual harvest shenanigans. We spent many nights around the table unwinding and diving into enologist banter. You better get your notebook out when you hang with Ricky and Gdub. The family dinners every Friday evening were legendary. The meal I crafted was Beef Bourguignon, Ratatouille, and my famous mashed potatoes. Of course, there were many wine tastings involved at the surrounding wineries. Occasionally, we would make it into a nearby city and bounce around the bars and restaurants. Picking a favorite memory is an impossible task, so here are a few of the top hits: That hillbilly hot tub was hilarious, late-night chess sessions by the fire were too chill, and barrel tasting at Coopa Troopas always makes ya feel like a VIP.

This year's harvest was the longest Sonoma had seen in quite some time. Similarly to last year, I was soon the last of the crew. Already known as the cellar rat, my time was now spent exclusively in the cellar. The whole winery is my playground, but the C-level is my favorite place to dwell. I am constantly climbing the stacks of barrels, sampling, sulfuring, and topping. Moving wine around the cellar has become my second nature, and my trusty Yamada has yet to fail me. The over-vintage reds and several whites needed to be bottled, so I also spent some time on the bottling line. I completed the entire winemaking process, from harvesting grapes to bottling. It is safe to say that I have fallen in love with this age-old practice.

It is evident that the barrel boy is happy here. Sonoma is surely seducing me. The chaotic harvest schedule had simmered down allowing me much more Tom time. Of course, it was spent doing the typical Tom things. My book collection has grown drastically. As always, I spent time improving my languages, focusing heavily on my Spanish. My running abilities have almost returned to the level I had when I was seventeen years old. The makeshift jailyard gym on the crush pad was a sufficient place to carve my muscles. While I've been doing yoga for roughly ten years now, I have focused greatly on improving this practice. My focus on knowledge, health, and wealth has never been so disciplined. While the seeds have certainly sprouted, the garden will be abundant soon enough.

This paragraph is dedicated to the magnificent metropolis known as San Francisco. A year ago, I was but a mere stranger to The City. This year alone, I visited several times. Just like last year, I met with Chef in the world-famous Napa County. We decided to go on a road trip to SF, and he treated me to a magnificent Michelin meal. Thanks bud! The rents and big bro had a valid excuse to visit wine country with me in Sonoma. They flew into SFO, so we naturally hung out in the city before heading north. Jojo, Louie, and I had our last hooray during the debaucherous Santa Con. It was a legendary time with the boys. After a train and ferry ride, I was in the city for the fourth and final time of this stint. My Patagonia pack filled again as I drank my way through the city. Do yourself a favor and listen to the locals; don't wander around The Tenderloin district. The final destination was SFO, for my next adventure was about to begin. California, do not fret my darling, we will be together soon.