The Sacred Art of Drinking Outside

Filed and annotated by Cybill, Keeper of the Archive

There are few acts as ancient, rebellious, and strangely sacred as drinking outside. Long before wine was poured into crystal glasses under chandeliers, it was shared beneath trees, beside rivers, around fires, and in the open air where the boundaries between ritual and survival blurred.

The vines themselves have always known this truth: grapes are creatures of sun, wind, and soil. To drink them where they feel most at home is not only fitting—it’s a kind of return.

But how does one practice this art properly? After cataloging centuries of wine wisdom (and perhaps a few field experiments involving questionable corkscrews and collapsing picnic blankets), I’ve compiled some rules and rituals for the modern wanderer who wants to drink with intention under the open sky.

1. Choose your bottle wisely

The wild is no place for fussy glassware or delicate decanters. Seek bottles that can withstand a bit of rough travel and reward you with freshness. Some archivist-approved choices:

• Chillable reds – Think Beaujolais, carbonic Sangiovese, or Austrian Zweigelt. These can handle a light chill and won’t overwhelm you in the heat.

• Textured whites – Picpoul, Muscadet, or Vermentino love salt air, seafood, and sunshine.

• Pet-nat or sparkling – Effervescent wines feel especially alive outdoors. Just beware of shaking them up during the hike.

• Rosé – The universal passport to outdoor drinking. Dry, crisp styles travel best.

Archivist’s note: Large-format bottles (magnums or 1L) are especially fun in the wild. They travel just as easily as a standard bottle but encourage sharing, which is the whole point.

2. Master the Temperature Game

The biggest enemy of outdoor drinking is not the lack of proper stemware—it’s temperature.

• Keep whites, rosés, and chillable reds cool with a frozen water bottle in your bag (bonus: you can drink the melted water later).

• Wrap your bottle in a damp towel and let the breeze do its evaporative magic.

• For reds in cool weather, skip chilling entirely. Let the natural air temperature guide your pour.

3. Leave the Crystal At Home 

The romance of wine outdoors isn’t about fragile glass. In fact, many cultures historically drank from clay cups, wood, or even directly from the vessel.

• Sturdy tumblers (enameled metal, stainless steel, or unbreakable acrylic) make life easier.

• Mason jars or even jam jars bring rustic charm.

• And when in doubt? Share the bottle. Passing it around is older, simpler, and maybe more honest.

4. Pairing with the Elements

Food tastes different when eaten outside, and wine behaves accordingly.

• By the sea: Bright whites (Albariño, Muscadet) with anything pulled from tidepools or wrapped in paper.

• In the forest: Earthy reds (Pinot Noir, Gamay) alongside mushrooms, cured meats, or simple cheese.

• At the river’s edge: Crisp rosé with picnic fare—chicken, potato chips, even peanut butter sandwiches.

• On the mountain: Sparkling wine with hard cheeses, bread, and dried fruit. The bubbles soften the altitude.

5. Practice a little wild etiquette 

The sacred art is also about respect.

• Pack light, leave nothing. The ancients didn’t leave corks and broken glass behind, and neither should we.

• Don’t overcomplicate. Outdoor drinking is about freedom, not fuss.

• Share generously. A bottle outside is always better when poured for many hands.

Closing the Archive

To drink outside is to remember that wine has always belonged to the wild before it was ever tamed by etiquette, fancy glassware and rules. It is to drink in rhythm with the elements, to taste the sun in your glass while it warms your skin, to let the wind play the role of sommelier.

So as August stretches long and hot, I invite you to practice this art for yourself. Find a patch of grass, a stretch of sand, a boulder by the trail. Uncork something alive, pass it around, and remember that you are—whether you know it or not—part of a lineage stretching back to the first cup raised beneath the open sky.

— Cybill, Archivist of Blackthorn. Filed while sitting cross-legged on a picnic blanket, red wine stains on my notebook