Stellenbosch is the heart of the South African wine industry, the focus of all the glitz and glamour, where fortunes are made and lost, and home to some of the most famous wine brands in the world.
But underneath all of it, just out of view, are the farmers – perhaps more polished than your average Vrystaat farmer (like my mother always, says the Stellenbosch farmers just move all the broken machinery behind the shed) – in the end, it is still just a farm and such all the problems that any other farm face, from broken tractors to kooperasie overdrafts.
If you look carefully, you can still spot them, weathered, sun-kissed farmers silently working the soil. Yet, their presence has grown rarer in recent years, even though many of these agricultural families have roots that stretch back far longer than many of the renowned restaurants and tasting centres in the region.
In Stellenbosch, the average market price for agricultural land used for viticulture is approximately R1 million plus per hectare. However, when purchased for development purposes, that same land can fetch up to R5 million per hectare.
Vinpro’s benchmark for breaking even on production costs in the region is an income of R80,115 per hectare in 2024. Based on the 2024 average yield of 6.2 tons per hectare and a grape price of R9,143 per ton (SAWIS), the resulting income is just R56,686 per hectare, well below the break-even threshold. This stark gap illustrates the financial pressure facing many grape producers in the area.
To ensure long-term viability, producers would need to achieve a sustainable income of R125,123 per hectare. When comparing the agricultural value of the land to its development potential, a farmer would need to operate profitably for over 200 years to match the difference in land value.
This has had the effect that between 2013 and 2023, Stellenbosch lost 11.7% of its vineyard hectares, shrinking from 13,382 hectares to just 11,815. It’s a sobering figure, and it’s where the heated debates usually begin. Accusations of opportunistic developers fly, tempers flare, and wine lovers rally around the idea of preservation. But when you dig into the numbers, a different story starts to unfold.
Of the 1 567 hectares lost, only about 91.5 hectares were developed, and 72 of those hectares came from just two major developments. So, while those projects might grab headlines and stir emotions, the real loss is far less dramatic, the majority of these vineyards lost are simply vines that are not replanted. And I do not mean, oh the farmer has switched over to something else and is now producing apricots or berries, etc.
These fields simply lay barren, like scars on the countryside, unused and benefiting no one. If you know where to look you will see it happening, spreading like a disease on a farm, first one field then two, then three and before you know it you cannot see any vineyards anymore.
The thing with a farm going bankrupt is that it happens slowly over a long time. There is a saying that you go bankrupt slowly and then suddenly.
In the beginning, you usually do not really see it, you will have to look closely, it will start with small things like a missed service on a tractor, the bakkies tires starting to run a little smooth, etc. I have never seen a successful farmer with a small maintenance bill. They know the importance of having your machinery running and what downtime costs you, but it is exactly here where they start to save some money first; it is expensive, and you can push your machinery if you must, for a time.
They will start to be less present at cellar management meetings and industry strategic meetings, as their attention shifts to short-term objectives and survival to sustain operations until the next harvest.
And then the big things will start failing, the replanting of the old vines will stop, and then the uprooting starts, soon 100ha vines become 50ha and the next thing you know the for-sale banner goes up.
Maybe you will see them try and keep a few animals in the old fields or some other last grasp, but like a terminal patient on life support it is only a matter of time before the end comes, and another family have to pack their bags for a townhouse in the city. With generations of struggle and sacrifice gone. Just like that it is done, and the world keeps turning and you look for the sickness spreading to a new farm.
So, the decline of vineyards in Stellenbosch is not due to some shadowy cabal of developers planning the downfall of the wine industry (although I am sure the construction community has its own share of shady characters). It is the slow suffocation of our farmers over a long time as they are getting squeezed harder and harder.
The loss of Stellenbosch’s vineyards reverberates far beyond the farms themselves. It touches every part of the community, from the workers whose livelihoods depend on grape cultivation, to the broader economy that thrives on wine tourism. Stellenbosch has built its identity around its vineyards, drawing visitors from around the world to experience its unique blend of natural beauty, culture, and wine.
But what happens when the vines disappear? Will tourists still flock to a town where the wine is no longer produced, but imported through the Du Toitskloof tunnel? Will the charm of new developments fade when the view no longer includes rows of thriving vineyards? Without the authenticity of local wine culture, Stellenbosch risks becoming a shell of its former self.
We must re-evaluate the vital role that wine grape farming plays in the greater Stellenbosch ecosystem. These vineyards are not just agricultural assets; they are cultural treasures and economic lifelines. By investing in sustainable farming practices, supporting local growers, protecting the land and understanding how these vineyards enhance local businesses only then can we ensure that Stellenbosch remains the beating heart of South Africa’s wine industry.