Originally published January 2025 in the Napa Valley Register
By: Carine Hines
Last week I was fortunate to attend the EcoFarm Conference in Asilomar, CA. This four day conference brings together farmers, researchers, food advocates, and many more to discuss the importance of ecological farming on the environment and society. Every year three farmers are recognized as “Successful Farmers” and are invited to give a talk. “Success” looks different amongst all these farmers, be it the food they produce, the acres they steward, or the purpose that drives them each to pursue this crazy career.
Hearing the journey of each farmer, I could not help but ask what success in farming means to me. By a long shot, I would not consider Sun Tracker Farm, the farm I own with my husband, to be “successful”. On paper, we check off a few of the things… stable market outlets, land security, accumulation of assets, and stable production of crops to name a few.
But truthfully our farm’s income, while profitable, does not equal the hours we put in compared to the margins of so many other professions. We still encounter failure every year, be it disease, poor germination, not irrigating enough, or simply biting off more than we can chew. Every fall we struggle to get compost and cover crops out in the fields before the rain, our tomatoes still get hammered by thrips in the summer, and after almost 10 years of trying we still can’t get a stand of carrots that are free and clear of weeds. Nothing drives home my ineptitude more than remembering certain summer nights when I am in the cooler at 10pm on a Friday, moving and counting melon crates for the farmers market because no matter how much we try, time management is really only an unattainable ideal rather than a reality.
That said, we are a heck of a lot better farmers now than we were even last year. Meaning somewhere in there you can find a thread of success. Even if every year we face surmounting challenges as our business grows, as climate change intensifies, as deportation threatens to cripple our industry and tear apart our community, and as the food system becomes more broken. We somehow continue to stay just ahead of these challenges and make it out a little more wise and a little bit more resilient every year.
The best way I can compare the small thread of “success” I feel now versus 10 years ago when we first embarked on our journey as farm owners, is to compare it to the feeling of learning to ski.
If any of you have ever been skiing you know the feeling of learning to ski on the bunny slopes. Much like farming for the first three years, your tips cross, you fall all the time, you look a fool, and yet somehow, you are hooked.
Now that you know how to make a pizza down a hill, you head for the blue runs, a bit steeper and looking for the challenge of learning to parallel ski. This is farming years 3-7… you get a routine for the things most important to the business, you recognize the value of efficiency, your implements accumulate. All of the sudden you are making parallel turns down the hill, but still making sharp stops when you go too fast and sometimes just outright popping out of your bindings because of failure.
Now you are in year 10 of farming. You know most of the things you are doing well, and the things you are doing wrong. Time, money, and external factors that you cannot control are what hold you back from being the best farmer version of yourself.
Farming is now just you holding your edges as your skis clatter over ice, pivot over moguls, catch air over bumps, and absorb any change in snow texture that causes you to suddenly slow down or speed up. The speed is scary, the speed is exhilarating, and you only barely hold on to control. Yet somehow you trust that if you run up against a bump or a turn, you will pivot, your legs will absorb the shock, and you will keep riding that edge.
That trust in ourselves may one day fail to be enough, but for now it brought us to the tight little farm business we run now. We have so much to look back on, and so much to look forward to in the future. I don’t always feel the confidence and joy in farming that I feel when skiing. But I’m building speed, holding on for dear life, and I know that we will get down the hill while still holding on to our values and dreams. Maybe that is success.