I really enjoy taking people on tours of our Calaveras County, California winery, crush pad, and wine cave. As part of my “shtick” I ask if anyone in the group knows what “Calaveras” means - and I am continually surprised at how few people who visit us know the answer! Do you? Or do you even know how “Napa” got its name? Well, let’s find out about the names of some California wine-growing places…

Napa: According to my main reference (”Spanish and Indian Place Names of California” by Nellie Van de Grift Sanchez, 1922) (does she have a cool name or what?), “Napa” was either the name of the Native American tribe in that valley (Nápa), a Pomo Indian word meaning “harpoon point”, or a word that means “motherland” to the Suisun people. Take your choice.

Sonoma: There are several interesting possibilities! The popular derivation is that Sonoma is a Mi Wuk word meaning “valley of the moon.” However, other sources point to a word in a local dialect “tso-noma” which means “earth village.” My favorite theory: it was named for a local Chief who was known for his rather large facial protuberance (”Sono”) - “ma” is supposed to mean “land” - thus Sono-ma is “land of the guy with the big nose.” The winner, by a nose (sorry.)

Monterey: Sebastián Vizcaino named the bay in 1802 in honor of Gaspar de Zuniga, Count of Monterey, and Viceroy of Mexico. Monte Rey is said to mean either “King’s mountain” or “King’s wood.” I’m not interested in thinking about the latter so I’ll stick with the former…

Paso Robles: Short for “El Paso de Robles” and literally, “the pass of the oaks,” it was named by Father Crespi “for the great abundance of these trees with which it is populated.” Nothing got past Old Crespi, no sir.

Cucamonga: Not just a semi-fictional train station, but an important part of California wine history! Cucamonga is a Tongva (Gabrieleno) word that means “sandy place.” Would you believe that, before Prohibition, Cucamonga was the center of the largest winegrowing region in the United States with over 20,000 acres of vineyards? If you are ever in the Cucamonga area east of Los Angeles, look around and you will see some beautiful old vines that still make some pretty good wine!

Lodi: My primary source fails me on this one, so I must defer to the Lodi News-Sentinal. The original name was Mokelumne, named after the Mi Wuk Mokel lodge. However, by 1873, name confusion with the communities of Mokelumne Hill and Mokelumne City led to a name change. (Not to mention “Mokelumne” is a bitch to pronounce - go ahead and try - I’ll wait.) A committee was appointed and the name “Lodi” was chosen, reportedly easily beating out “Salem.” The amazing thing is that nobody kept a record of exactly where the name “Lodi” came from! Three theories: after a popular race horse; after Lodi, Illinois; or after Napoleon’s victory at the Bridge of Lodi in 1796. Believe it or not, the third theory is considered the most likely…!

Amador: Literally, “one who loves,” named for Jose Maria Amador, who established a mining camp here in 1848. Dirty separatists who broke off from Calaveras County in 1854. Good riddance. Nice Zins, though.

Oh, and Calaveras? Thought you’d never ask… In 1805, Lieutenant Gabriel Moraga was ordered by the Spanish Governor of California to explore the Great Central Valley. (I can only imagine that, back then, Spanish Lieutenants were the equivalent of the expendable Red Shirt Guys on Star Trek, but I digress.) Well, Old Gabe and his Cavalry went trippin’ down the Valley - causing trouble and displacing the local Natives - and naming everything he found.

One day Gabe and his horsemen came across a river the banks of which were littered with skulls. No one knows for sure how the skulls came to be on the banks of this river. Perhaps they were the remains of an ancient battle (over salmon, it is said,) or a terrible plague. Or perhaps it was a really great party that suddenly went horribly wrong. (At least we can be reasonably certain it wasn’t the remains of a mass audition for the role of Hamlet….)

In any case Gabe, being the master of the obvious that he (apparently) was, named this river “El Rio De Las Calaveras” or in English, “The River of Skulls.”

Now, how cool is that?