🔗 Share this article

Every quarter of an hour or so, an older diesel-powered railway carriage pulls into a spray-painted station. Close by, a police siren pierces the near-constant road noise. Daily travelers hurry past falling apart, ivy-draped fencing panels as storm clouds gather.

It is maybe the last place you expect to find a well-established grape-growing plot. But James Bayliss-Smith has cultivated 40 mature vines heavy with round mauve grapes on a rambling garden plot sandwiched between a row of historic homes and a commuter railway just above Bristol town centre.

"I've seen people concealing illegal substances or other items in the shrubbery," 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 not the only urban winemaker. He's pulled together a informal group of growers who make vintage from four discreet urban vineyards nestled in back gardens and allotments across the city. It is sufficiently underground to have an official name so far, but the group's messaging chat is named Grape Expectations.

City Wine Gardens Around the World

So far, Bayliss-Smith's plot is the only one listed in the Urban Vineyards Association's forthcoming global directory, which includes better-known urban wineries such as the 1,800 vines on the slopes of Paris's historic Montmartre area and over three thousand grapevines with views of and inside the Italian city. Based in Italy non-profit association is at the vanguard of a movement re-establishing city vineyards in historic wine-producing nations, but has identified them throughout the world, including cities in Japan, South Asia and Uzbekistan.

"Grape gardens help urban areas stay greener and ecologically varied. These spaces preserve open space from development by establishing long-term, yielding farming plots within urban environments," says the association's president.

Similar to other vintages, those produced in cities are a product of the earth the plants grow in, the unpredictability of the climate and the individuals who care for the grapes. "Each vintage embodies the charm, community, landscape and history of a urban center," notes the spokesperson.

Mystery Polish Variety

Back in Bristol, Bayliss-Smith is in a race against time to harvest the vines he cultivated from a plant left in his allotment by a Eastern European household. If the rain arrives, then the pigeons may take advantage to feast once more. "This is the enigmatic Polish variety," he comments, as he cleans bruised and mouldy grapes from the shimmering bunches. "We don't really know what variety they are, but they are certainly hardy. Unlike noble varieties – Burgundy grapes, Chardonnay and additional renowned French grapes – you need not spray them with chemicals ... this is possibly a unique cultivar that was developed by the Eastern Bloc."

Collective Activities Across the City

The other members of the collective are additionally making the most of sunny interludes between bursts of autumn rain. At a rooftop garden with views of Bristol's shimmering harbour, where medieval merchant vessels once bobbed with casks of wine from France and the Iberian peninsula, Katy Grant is harvesting her dark berries from about 50 vines. "I love the smell of these vines. The scent is so evocative," she says, pausing with a container of fruit resting on her arm. "It recalls the fragrance of southern France when you open the car windows on vacation."

The humanitarian worker, fifty-two, who has devoted more than two decades working for charitable groups in conflict zones, unexpectedly inherited the vineyard when she returned to the United Kingdom from Kenya with her family in recent years. She felt an strong responsibility to maintain the grapevines in the garden of their recently acquired property. "This vineyard has previously endured multiple proprietors," she says. "I deeply appreciate the idea of natural stewardship – of handing this down to someone else so they keep cultivating from the soil."

Sloping Vineyards and Traditional Production

A short walk away, the remaining cultivators of the collective are hard at work on the precipitous slopes of Avon Gorge. One filmmaker has established over 150 vines situated on terraces in her wild half-acre garden, which descends towards the muddy local waterway. "People are always surprised," she notes, indicating the tangled vineyard. "It's astonishing to them they are viewing rows of vines in a urban neighborhood."

Today, the filmmaker, sixty, is harvesting clusters of dusty purple dark berries from rows of plants arranged along the cliff-side with the assistance of her child, her family member. The conservationist, a documentary producer who has contributed to Netflix's Great National Parks series and television network's Gardeners' World, was inspired to plant grapes after observing her neighbor's vines. She has learned that amateurs can produce intriguing, enjoyable natural wine, which can command prices of more than £7 a glass in the increasing quantity of wine bars focusing on low-processing wines. "It is deeply rewarding that you can truly create good, natural wine," she states. "It is quite on trend, but in reality it's reviving an old way of producing vintage."

"During foot-stomping the grapes, the various wild yeasts are released from the surfaces and enter the juice," says the winemaker, ankle deep in a container of tiny stems, pips and crimson juice. "That's how vintages were made traditionally, but commercial producers introduce preservatives to eliminate the natural cultures and then add a lab-grown yeast."

Challenging Conditions and Creative Approaches

A few doors down active senior Bob Reeve, who inspired Scofield to plant her grapevines, has assembled his companions to pick white wine varieties from one hundred plants he has arranged precisely across multiple levels. Reeve, a northern English PE teacher who worked at Bristol University developed a passion for wine on regular visits to Europe. But it is a challenge to grow this particular variety in the dampness of the gorge, with temperature fluctuations moving through from the Bristol Channel. "I aimed to produce Burgundian wines here, which is a bit bonkers," says the retiree with a smile. "This variety is late to ripen and very sensitive to mildew."

"I wanted to make Burgundian wines in this environment, which is rather ambitious"

The unpredictable Bristol climate is not the only problem faced by winegrowers. Reeve has been compelled to install a barrier on