🔗 Share this article

Each 20 minutes or so, an older diesel train pulls into a graffiti-covered stop. Nearby, a police siren cuts through the near-constant traffic drone. Daily travelers rush by falling apart, ivy-draped fencing panels as storm clouds form.

It is perhaps the last place you expect to find a perfectly formed vineyard. However James Bayliss-Smith has cultivated 40 mature vines sagging with plump purplish grapes on a sprawling allotment situated between a row of 1930s houses and a commuter railway just above Bristol downtown.

"I've seen individuals hiding illegal substances or other items in those bushes," states the grower. "Yet you just get on with it ... and continue caring for your vines."

The cameraman, 46, a filmmaker who also has a fermented beverage company, is among several urban winemaker. He's organized a informal group of growers who make vintage from several discreet urban vineyards nestled in back gardens and allotments across the city. It is sufficiently underground to possess an official name so far, but the group's WhatsApp group is named Grape Expectations.

Urban Wine Gardens Around the Globe

So far, Bayliss-Smith's allotment is the only one listed in the Urban Vineyards Association's forthcoming global directory, which features more famous city vineyards such as the 1,800 plants on the slopes of Paris's renowned Montmartre area and over three thousand vines with views of and within the Italian city. Based in Italy charitable organization is at the vanguard of a movement reviving urban grape cultivation in traditional winemaking nations, but has discovered them throughout the world, including urban centers in East Asia, South Asia and Uzbekistan.

"Vineyards assist urban areas remain greener and ecologically varied. These spaces preserve land from development by establishing long-term, productive agricultural units inside urban environments," explains the association's president.

Like all wines, those produced in urban areas are a result of the soils the vines grow in, the unpredictability of the weather and the people who care for the grapes. "A bottle of wine represents the beauty, local spirit, environment and heritage of a urban center," adds the spokesperson.

Mystery Polish Grapes

Returning to the city, Bayliss-Smith is in a race against time to harvest the vines he grew from a cutting abandoned in his garden by a Polish family. If the rain comes, then the birds may seize their chance to feast once more. "Here we have the mystery Polish grape," he comments, as he removes damaged and mouldy grapes from the shimmering clusters. "We don't really know their exact classification, but they're definitely disease-resistant. Unlike noble varieties – Burgundy grapes, white wine grapes and other famous French grapes – you don't have to spray them with chemicals ... this is possibly a unique cultivar that was developed by the Eastern Bloc."

Collective Efforts Throughout the City

Additional participants of the group are additionally making the most of bright periods between showers of fall precipitation. On the terrace with views of Bristol's glistening harbour, where medieval merchant vessels once floated with barrels of vintage from Europe and the Iberian peninsula, one cultivator is harvesting her rondo grapes from approximately fifty vines. "I adore the smell of these vines. The scent is so reminiscent," she remarks, stopping with a container of grapes slung over her arm. "It's the scent of Provence when you open the vehicle windows on vacation."

The humanitarian worker, 52, who has spent over two decades working for humanitarian organizations in conflict zones, unexpectedly took over the grape garden when she moved back to the UK from East Africa with her household in 2018. She felt an strong responsibility to maintain the grapevines in the yard of their recently acquired property. "This plot has previously survived multiple proprietors," she says. "I really like the concept of natural stewardship – of handing this down to someone else so they keep cultivating from the soil."

Terraced Vineyards and Traditional Production

A short walk away, the remaining cultivators of the group are busily laboring on the precipitous slopes of the local river valley. Jo Scofield has cultivated over 150 plants situated on ledges in her expansive property, which tumbles down towards the silty local waterway. "People are always surprised," she says, gesturing towards the interwoven vineyard. "It's astonishing to them they can see rows of vines in a urban neighborhood."

Currently, Scofield, sixty, is harvesting clusters of deep violet Rondo grapes from lines of vines slung across the cliff-side with the help of her child, her family member. The conservationist, a documentary producer who has worked on Netflix's nature programming and television network's gardening shows, was inspired to plant grapes after observing her neighbour's grapevines. She has learned that amateurs can make interesting, enjoyable traditional vintage, which can command prices of more than £7 a glass in the increasing quantity of wine bars specialising in low-processing vintages. "It is deeply rewarding that you can truly create good, natural wine," she says. "It is quite fashionable, but really it's reviving an old way of producing wine."

"During foot-stomping the fruit, the various wild yeasts are released from the skins into the liquid," says Scofield, partially submerged in a bucket of tiny stems, pips and crimson juice. "This represents how wines were made traditionally, but industrial wineries introduce preservatives to kill the natural cultures and subsequently add a commercially produced yeast."

Difficult Conditions and Inventive Solutions

A few doors down active senior Bob Reeve, who inspired his neighbor to establish her grapevines, has assembled his companions to harvest Chardonnay grapes from one hundred vines he has laid out neatly across two terraces. Reeve, a northern English physical education instructor who worked at Bristol University developed a passion for viticulture on regular visits to France. But it is a challenge to grow this particular variety in the dampness of the valley, with temperature fluctuations sweeping in and out from the Bristol Channel. "I wanted to produce French-style vintages in this location, which is a bit bonkers," says Reeve with a smile. "Chardonnay is late to ripen and very sensitive to fungal infections."

"I wanted to make European-style vintages here, which is a bit bonkers"

The temperamental Bristol climate is not the only challenge faced by winegrowers. Reeve has been compelled to erect a fence on