Back on the Bine: Growing Hops in Paso Robles, Round Two
This growing season marks my second attempt at growing hops — and this time, things are looking very different.
My first try was back in 2020. Life had other plans, as it tends to do, and the small Cascade rhizomes I started quietly died before they had a real chance. Fast-forward to 2026, and the garden is genuinely flourishing. Retirement has been good for it. I finally had time to clear out the weeds, lay out a proper garden structure, add and upgrade raised planter beds, and build dedicated bark-covered foot paths between them. It feels like a real garden now — intentional and cared for.
The hops were something of a late addition to the overall plan. A Northern Brewer ad caught my eye in March, I realized I had the space, and I placed an order for three varieties well-suited to USDA Zone 9a: Cascade, Columbus, and Nugget.
To support them, I built a 10-foot trellis with three support lines — twine this first season, since I don’t expect the plants to reach full height yet. I gave the rhizomes a good start with rhizome-specific fertilizer and kept the soil consistently moist. All three eventually sent shoots through the ground, which was encouraging. Cascade, however, proved to be the standout. The Columbus and Nugget plants died off not long after sprouting. Cause still unknown.
Rather than give up on those spots, I ordered three additional Cascade rhizomes and planted them alongside the original, hoping they’ll follow suit. The original plant is already doing well — it has three vertical shoots, called bines, actively climbing the trellis and pushing toward five feet. I’ve since added a slow-release hop fertilizer to help sustain that growth.
A little context for anyone new to growing hops: the first year is almost entirely about root development. You let the bines grow freely so the plant can sink a deep, strong root system underground. Year two is when that investment pays off — the established roots allow the plant to channel energy into producing a real crop. Harvest typically falls somewhere between mid-August and late September, when the cones are ready.
How do you know they’re ready? The cones will feel dry and papery to the touch, and when you crush one, it leaves behind a sticky yellow powder called lupulin — the aromatic compound that gives hops their bitterness, flavor, and aroma in beer.
Paso Robles turns out to be a genuinely excellent climate for this. Long, sunny days and warm temperatures are exactly what hops want, and the results so far suggest this part of California is well-suited for the variety.
There’s something I find deeply satisfying about growing your own ingredients — whether it’s pulling a ripe tomato off the vine or watching hop bines climb higher each week. Growing hops carries that same feeling, with one extra layer: the end goal is a pint of homebrew made entirely from something I cultivated myself. That’s a long game worth playing.