🔗 Share this article

Each 20 minutes or so, an older diesel-powered train pulls into a graffiti-covered stop. Nearby, a police siren pierces the almost continuous road noise. Commuters rush by falling apart, ivy-draped garden fences as storm clouds gather.

It is maybe the last place you expect to find a perfectly formed grape-growing plot. But James Bayliss-Smith has cultivated four dozen established plants heavy with plump purplish berries on a sprawling allotment situated between a line of historic homes and a commuter railway just above the city downtown.

"I've seen individuals concealing heroin or whatever in those bushes," says the grower. "But you just get on with it ... and continue caring for your grapevines."

Bayliss-Smith, 46, a filmmaker who also has a fermented beverage company, is not the only local vintner. He has pulled together a informal group of cultivators who make wine from several discreet urban vineyards tucked away in private yards and allotments throughout the city. It is sufficiently underground to possess an official name yet, but the collective's WhatsApp group is called Vineyard Dreams.

City Wine Gardens Across the Globe

So far, the grower's allotment is the sole location registered in the City Vineyard Network's forthcoming global directory, which includes more famous city vineyards such as the eighteen hundred vines on the hillsides of Paris's historic artistic district area and over three thousand grapevines overlooking and within the Italian city. The Italian-based non-profit association is at the forefront of a movement reviving city vineyards in traditional winemaking nations, but has discovered them throughout the globe, including cities in East Asia, Bangladesh and Central Asia.

"Grape gardens assist cities stay greener and more diverse. These spaces preserve open space from construction by establishing long-term, yielding farming plots within urban environments," says the organization's leader.

Similar to other vintages, those created in urban areas are a product of the soils the plants grow in, the unpredictability of the climate and the people who care for the fruit. "A bottle of wine represents the beauty, community, environment and heritage of a urban center," notes the president.

Unknown Polish Variety

Back in Bristol, Bayliss-Smith is in a race against time to harvest the vines he cultivated from a plant abandoned in his garden by a Eastern European household. If the rain comes, then the birds may take advantage to feast once more. "Here we have the mystery Eastern European variety," he says, as he removes bruised and mouldy berries from the shimmering clusters. "We don't really know their exact classification, but they're definitely hardy. In contrast to premium grapes – Burgundy grapes, white wine grapes and additional renowned French grapes – you don't have to spray them with chemicals ... this is possibly a special variety that was developed by the Soviets."

Collective Efforts Across Bristol

The other members of the group are also taking advantage of bright periods between bursts of fall precipitation. At a rooftop garden overlooking Bristol's glistening harbour, where medieval merchant vessels once floated with casks of wine from France and Spain, Katy Grant is harvesting her rondo grapes from approximately fifty plants. "I love the aroma of these vines. The scent is so evocative," she remarks, stopping with a container of fruit slung over her arm. "It recalls the fragrance of Provence when you roll down the vehicle windows on vacation."

Grant, 52, who has spent over 20 years working for charitable groups in war-torn regions, inadvertently took over the vineyard when she moved back to the UK from Kenya with her household in 2018. She experienced an strong responsibility to maintain the vines in the garden of their recently acquired property. "This plot has previously survived multiple proprietors," she explains. "I really like the idea of environmental care – of handing this down to future caretakers so they can continue producing from this land."

Terraced Gardens and Natural Winemaking

A short walk away, the final two members of the group are hard at work on the precipitous slopes of Avon Gorge. Jo Scofield has established more than one hundred fifty plants situated on ledges in her wild half-acre garden, which descends towards the silty local waterway. "People are always surprised," she notes, gesturing towards the tangled vineyard. "They can't believe they are viewing grapevine lines in a city street."

Today, the filmmaker, 60, is picking bunches of dusty purple dark berries from rows of vines arranged along the cliff-side with the help of her daughter, her family member. The conservationist, a documentary producer who has worked on streaming service's nature programming and television network's Gardeners' World, was motivated to plant grapes after seeing her neighbor's vines. She's discovered that amateurs can produce interesting, enjoyable natural wine, which can sell for upwards of £7 a serving in the increasing quantity of wine bars specialising in low-processing wines. "It is incredibly satisfying that you can actually make good, natural wine," she states. "It's very fashionable, but really it's resurrecting an traditional method of making wine."

"During foot-stomping the fruit, the various natural microorganisms come off the surfaces into the liquid," says Scofield, partially submerged in a bucket of small branches, seeds and crimson juice. "This represents how wines were made traditionally, but commercial producers introduce sulphur [dioxide] to kill the natural cultures and then add a lab-grown yeast."

Difficult Conditions and Creative Solutions

A few doors down sprightly retiree Bob Reeve, who motivated his neighbor to establish her grapevines, has assembled his friends to harvest Chardonnay grapes from the 100 plants he has arranged precisely across multiple levels. The former teacher, a Lancashire-born physical education instructor who worked at Bristol University developed a passion for viticulture on regular visits to Europe. But it is a difficult task to grow this particular variety in the humidity of the valley, with cooling tides moving through from the Bristol Channel. "I aimed to make French-style vintages in this location, which is a bit bonkers," says Reeve with amusement. "Chardonnay is slow-maturing and very sensitive to mildew."

"I wanted to make European-style vintages in this environment, which is rather ambitious"

The temperamental Bristol climate is not the only problem encountered by grape cultivators. The gardener has had to erect a barrier on