This is where our Xinjiang journey begins.

At the far western edge of China, where desert light meets glacial mountains, Xianghai stands at the northern foothills of the Tianshan Mountains — a place of vast skies, fierce sunlight, and profound stillness. Remote, elemental, and uncompromising, Xinjiang is unlike any other wine region in China, and Xianghai captures its spirit with rare clarity.

Here, vineyards sit between 550 and 1,000 metres above sea level, framed by snow-capped peaks and nourished by pure meltwater flowing from the Tianshan glaciers. Days are long and sun-drenched; nights fall sharply cool. The result is a growing season of extremes — one that pushes vines to their limits and rewards patience with extraordinary concentration, colour, and aromatic depth.

This is not an easy place to grow grapes. Winters plunge to –25°C, vines are buried for protection, and yields are kept deliberately low. But in return, Xinjiang gives something few regions can: power without heaviness, ripeness without excess, and a vivid sense of place. It is wine shaped as much by silence and space as by sun and stone.

Xianghai works organically, by hand, and with minimal intervention, allowing the land to speak for itself. The estate draws on a deep historical resonance — this part of Xinjiang was once a vital stop on the Silk Road, with wine culture dating back to the 2nd century BC. Today, Xianghai is part of a new chapter, revealing Xinjiang not as a curiosity, but as one of China’s most compelling fine-wine frontiers.