09/10/2026
Martin van der Kamp was a true Calistoga boy. He was shaped by the vineyards, the valley, and the people he loved. He was the son of Walter, a B24 bomber pilot who was killed in action in World War II, and Jean, his hardworking Irish immigrant mother. Their strength, their stories, and their resilience shaped Martin into who he became.
Martin found his place in the world through w**emaking. He had a deep knowledge of the craft, a spiritual connection to the land, and a natural talent for the business side of it all. He built many successful businesses that gave him something he valued deeply—the freedom to create the life he wanted, surrounded by the people, places, and things he loved.
Martin built a life that was uniquely his. It was full of good w**e, spiritual seeking, and a collection of enough adventures to fill several lifetimes. Rumi wrote, “Let the beauty we love be what we do,” and in many ways, Martin did just that. He found beauty in his two homes split between California and Hawaii, and in the simple pleasure of being surrounded by good people.
Martin knew how to enjoy life. He always had a good story and knew exactly how to tell it. He could make people laugh, bring a room to life, and turn an ordinary gathering into something memorable. He loved meeting new people from all walks of life and always kept an open seat at the table for a mystery guest. He was the light of the party, and was happiest when there was a table full of people he loved, a glass of good w**e, plenty of conversation, and a story or two that was guaranteed to be relayed again.
He leaves behind his wife and partner of 53 years, Dixie, his six children, and his six grandchildren whom he loved deeply. Family was at the heart of his life along with his passions—the vineyard atop Sonoma Mountain, the beach on Molokai, and, of course, his roosters.
Martin will be missed for so many reasons—for his laughter, his stories, his w**e, his stubbornness, his warmth, and his unmistakable way of making people feel like something good was just about to happen. His life left its mark on the people who knew and loved him.
Martin would want to be remembered in his most beloved places—among the vines, on the back porch in Molokai, around a crowded table, in the crow of a rooster, or in the middle of a story that makes everyone smile and reminds us, once again, that Martin was here.
