The History of Mandeville Vineyards
I had a pivotal moment 25 years ago while chatting with friends who were planning to move to California. They mentioned their plans to work in a vineyard or start a vineyard, which sparked a thought in me: I want to work in a vineyard or even own one myself. In 2012, I ventured up the hill to clear out weed vines that were choking the trees, and while surveying the area behind us, I realized there might be potential to plant a few rows of vines. The ground from the tree line onward was completely impenetrable; it was nearly impossible to walk through. Armed with a chainsaw, I cut a path from one side to the other. After numerous attempts to reach out, I finally connected with Scott Rich, a vintner from Moraga, and invited him to assess the hill. We had to crawl hand over knees to reach the spot, as there was no access whatsoever. I had climbed while grasping onto vines and bushes, but once we made it, Scott exclaimed, 'Wow, I’ve never seen the other side of the hill from this vantage point. It is beautiful.' He advised me to get a soil sample and bring in a geological expert to determine if planting a vineyard was feasible. I sent the soil sample for testing and hired a geologist who, despite having a bad knee, I had to help up the hill for his assessment. He concluded it was Santa Monica Shale, confirming that it was doable. I then contacted another individual, referred to me by three different sources, who agreed to handle the vineyard installation, but he emphasized the need to first create access to the site. I began clearing the hill with a few hired workers, and within three months, we had cleared the entire area. I started creating steps, some of which took between 1½ to 2 hours each to construct using a shovel and pickaxe to cut through the stone. It was backbreaking labor, but with every step I made up the hill, I felt like I was building something meaningful. It was exhilarating, hard, and exhausting—my sweat and blood went into this project. After three months, I brought my installer back to walk up the newly created steps. He remarked, 'Great, this is good access.' It formed a traversable stairway, and once he reached the top and surveyed the cleared area, he turned back to me and said, 'You are F..ing crazy, but since you have done this, I am in.' This gentleman, B. Alan Geddes, organized for a vineyard installer to come, measure, and dig holes for the vines. We ended up planting 431 vines, including 287 Malbecs and 134 Cabernet Sauvignons, in March and April of 2013. We had cleared over twelve thousand square feet, chipping everything suitable for compost and spreading it over the hill—all accomplished in three months, an extraordinary feat by anyone's standards. I began bringing in railroad ties to create steps and ordered rebar, carrying each piece up at least 40 feet to the bottom of the vineyard, which then rose another 60 feet. Each step was 3 to 4 feet long and 9 inches deep, weighing between 12 to 20 pounds, depending on the amount of creosote and how dry they were. Initially, there were no paths, just posts and holes on the hill for planting the vineyard. Over the next two years, I created six iterations of paths, evolving from simple steps to a real pathway that made traversing the hill easier. At first, walking on the paths was treacherous due to rocks and sand, but now it is a beautiful route for tending to the grapes. I started bringing up 8-foot and 9-foot railroad ties, weighing between 40 and 60 pounds. The 8-footers were manageable at around 40 pounds, but the 9-footers were daunting at 50 to 60 pounds—thank goodness for my helpers. Overall, the vineyard covers 12,000 square feet and features between 400 and 450 railroad ties and steps throughout the hill, each carried up on my shoulder and secured with rebar. Within two years, the hill was essentially prepared for the vineyard. The following year involved constant improvements; we used waddles, typically found on freeways, to help prevent soil erosion and cut wooden boards, painting them to protect against erosion in front of the railroad ties. For the first two years, we merely observed the vines grow. Each phase of planting, creating paths, and nurturing the vines was a stunning and surreal experience. I visited often, appreciating the beauty in the alignment of the poles and wires. By the end of the second year, as the leaves began to change color and fall, we had cultivated our very own autumn in Southern California. At the start of the third year in 2016, we pruned the vines, hopeful for our first harvest of grapes.
Hands holding a bunch of fresh dark grapes.