Last year, we went on a Virginia wine trip with a group of friends, led by Tracie and Glenn—our friends and fellow wine lovers. They used to live in Maryland and knew the Virginia winery region well. We’d heard Virginia wine was good, but we had never tried it. That trip opened our eyes: gorgeous scenery, laid-back energy, and surprisingly great wine.
They planned another group trip this year, but the dates didn’t work for us. So we planned a smaller getaway—just the four of us—to explore the North Carolina mountains. We kicked things off with a dinner planning session and booked our hotel that night. A few weeks later, we met again—this time with maps and laptops—to dive into winery research. I offered some restaurant suggestions, and Tracie brought a list of vineyard options that focused on dry reds and whites—steering us far away from anything sweet or muscadine. Before we left, she’d even mapped out the route: start with the winery farthest out and work our way back toward Flat Rock each day. If timing worked out, we could even sneak in one the afternoon we arrived.
The day finally arrived! We left the hot, sticky South mid-morning and stopped in Irmo for lunch at The Bistro. I remembered it being better, but it did the trick. Afterward, we headed for the mountains.
We didn’t know for sure if we’d make it to a winery before check-in—but we did! Our first stop: Marked Tree Vineyard.
This place is perched on the edge of a mountain in Flat Rock and offers panoramic views that instantly set the tone. The name comes from the old practice of early travelers “marking trees” to blaze trails and navigate the land—a fitting symbol for a winery charting its own path in Western North Carolina’s emerging wine scene.
We settled into a tasting at an outdoor table surrounded by vineyard views, Blue Ridge breezes, and Adirondack chairs lining the edge of the hill. We all ordered the Red Flight.
When you are done with a tasting you are to push your empty glass to the middle of the table.
The winery was clean, modern, peaceful. The views breathtaking. The staff explained their system: order a flight, then relax.
Cabernet Franc – a structured, earthy red with a peppery finish. Lemberger –It had great balance and just enough spice to keep it interesting. Petit Verdot – bold, dark, and rich. Definitely one for sipping slowly. Watershed – their signature red blend of Lemberger and Petit Verdot, smooth and well balanced. Red Blend – a dry blend of Cabernet Franc and Petit Verdot, created as a nod to the Continental Divide.
Our favorites: Cab Franc Glenn and Tracie picked up a bottle to bring back to Inn. Lemberger – my personal favorite. We didn’t grab one—it was on the pricier side, and since it wasn’t far from our hotel, we figured we could always come back.
What stood out most—besides the view—was how clean and well-crafted the wines were. No sugar bombs, no filler. Just solid, estate-driven winemaking in a part of the country where you don’t expect it. Prices were a bit steep (tastings around $30, bottles ranging from $38–$54), but the quality made it feel worthwhile. Before we left, our server took a group photo for us—a perfect way to kick off the trip.
As we walked back to the car, we spotted a tall stone chimney standing alone in the grass—what’s left of a former homestead known as the “ghost house.” It’s the only piece still standing, a quiet tribute to the history beneath the vines.
At Marked Tree Vineyard, the stone chimney on the lawn is all that remains of a former homestead—nicknamed the “ghost house.” Its weathered frame quietly honors the history of the land beneath the vines.
Just beyond it, a long stretch of blooming tiger lilies caught our eye. They were Glenn’s sister’s favorite flower, and we kept seeing them throughout the trip—her gentle “God wink” showing up again and again, reminding us she was along for the ride too.
Afterward, we checked in at Highland Lake Resort, where we were staying in the Woodward House. The place is low-key and charming with comfortable rooms, shared common areas, and a buffet breakfast included.
Dinner that night was at Seasons, a restaurant I hadn’t been to in over 15 years. Back when we lived in Florence, it was a real treat—one of the first farm-to-table places we’d tried. This time, the food was still good and the service was lovely, but it didn’t blow me away like it once did. (Hilton Head area has definitely spoiled me.) Dessert was delicious, though, and a sweet way to end the meal.
Back at the Inn, Glenn and Tim shared a glass of wine while Tracie and I went out in search of the Strawberry Moon. We didn’t find it—but we did stumble across a field of fireflies. We swapped stories about catching them as kids, and just like that, I remembered: fireflies mean mosquitoes. Sure enough, they found us, so we headed back.
I skipped a second glass of wine, trying to be smart and save myself for Day 2. It had already been a beautiful start—gorgeous views, well-made wine, and that feeling of having finally stepped into vacation mode.
Happiness is Possible 