The view explains
the climb.

Leaving Ab Astris we crossed 290 and stayed on the great little backroad east. Upper Albert Road feels quieter and narrower than the highway it just left behind — the shoulder shrinks to almost nothing, the speed limit feels optional in both directions, and then an old farmstead appears on the left that looks like it has been there longer than the wine trail itself.

You can almost feel how tired that farm is of all the wine snobbery growing up around it. Beautiful to see — more natural expanse than vineyard. Past the farm, some very old utility buildings lean into the weeds, and you can’t help but notice how nature is still growing out there, especially when you pass a six-inch purple thistle that’d make any huge sunflower uneasy.

You’re so busy looking at everything around you — and hopefully the road too, it’s narrow — that you don’t notice you’re gaining elevation. The climb sneaks up on you. Almost without warning, you arrive at the gate.

The entrance comes quickly.

The turn comes up fast. From the west, the Pedernales Cellars sign is easy enough to miss until you are already on top of it. The drive carries you up toward a building that reads partly as a Hill Country house, partly as an old depot.

A cross between a house and an old depot, with a deck full of guests under sprawling oaks.

The building appears to be a cross between a house and an old depot, with a huge deck attached to the front. Nary a tree in sight, except for the sprawling oaks over the deck. You wonder at the building, then turn around and marvel at what you missed coming up the driveway.

All that unseen elevation, all that open ground, and suddenly the view has the last word.

It was still our big-sky day. The clouds stacked high enough to make the deck feel smaller than it was, which is saying something. Pedernales gives you that feeling more than once: the good kind of small.

And enough wine, too, that we were thrilled with the housemade focaccia and the two types of dipping oils available. Their filtered water in the swing-top Pedernales-etched bottles was honestly its own small grace note — the kind of detail that signals a tasting room paying attention.

The Kuhlken family planted on this hill long before tasting rooms became hospitality theater.

Pedernales is one of the better-known Tempranillo programs in Texas — single-vineyard bottlings sourced from the High Plains, alongside Rhône-style reds and a Viognier-anchored white list. It’s a portfolio that has quietly taught a lot of out-of-state visitors that Iberian and Mediterranean grapes belong in Texas. You can taste the conviction in the glass without anyone having to point it out.

Holly made the whole afternoon feel less like a transaction and more like sitting with someone who happens to know the list cold.

A big family — or maybe a group of friends, sometimes it’s hard to tell — had already taken the one tree in the yard. As cloudy as it was, you still don’t just mill around under the open sky in Texas. So the deck it was. We grabbed a spot right on the edge so we could just sit and stare.

Holly, our server, brought out that much-appreciated water and started talking to us about wine and life. That’s my remembrance of Pedernales. The people. She loves wine herself, talked about her track toward becoming a sommelier with the kind of clear-eyed optimism that’s contagious, and made the whole afternoon feel less like a transaction and more like sitting with someone who happens to know the list cold.

Out on the deck, everyone is . . . happy. Two groups around us were down from San Antonio — enjoying the quick jaunt to the expanse and privacy and quiet entertainment of the wine country, while staying close enough “to town” to get back and cheer on the Spurs.

Inside, on a wooden stand near the door, sits a hand-tooled basket-weave saddle — “Rodeo Uncorked! Top Texas Wine 2016” from the Houston Livestock Show & Rodeo. A real one. The kind of credential a Texas winery only gets one of, and only after the rest of the state finally agrees you’ve earned it.

It is a place to unwind, look out over the valley, and settle into the quieter side of the wine trail.

Don’t come expecting polished resort theater or a wall of Instagram backdrops. You won’t find them here. This is a place for people who appreciate serious Texas wine, wide Hill Country views, and a relaxed deck. There’s enough room out front for a dozen football fields — bring a frisbee, bring a football, or just sit under the magnificent oaks and enjoy the company.