🔗 Share this article

Every 20 minutes or so, an older diesel railway carriage arrives at a graffiti-covered stop. Nearby, a police siren cuts through the near-constant traffic drone. Commuters rush by collapsing, ivy-covered fencing panels as rain clouds gather.

It is perhaps the last place you anticipate to find a perfectly formed grape-growing plot. But one local grower has managed to four dozen established plants heavy with round purplish grapes on a rambling allotment sandwiched between a row of historic homes and a commuter railway just above Bristol town centre.

"I've noticed people hiding heroin or whatever in those bushes," says Bayliss-Smith. "Yet you just get on with it ... and continue caring for your vines."

The cameraman, 46, a documentary cameraman who runs a kombucha drinks business, is not the only local vintner. He's organized a informal group of growers who make wine from four hidden urban vineyards tucked away in back gardens and community plots across the city. It is too clandestine to possess an formal title yet, but the collective's WhatsApp group is called Grape Expectations.

Urban Vineyards Across the World

So far, the grower's allotment is the only one registered in the Urban Vineyards Association's forthcoming world atlas, which includes more famous city vineyards such as the 1,800 plants on the slopes of Paris's renowned Montmartre area and more than 3,000 grapevines with views of and within the Italian city. The Italian-based charitable organization is at the vanguard of a initiative reviving city vineyards in historic wine-producing nations, but has discovered them throughout the globe, including cities in Japan, South Asia and Uzbekistan.

"Vineyards help urban areas remain greener and ecologically varied. They preserve land from construction by establishing permanent, productive farming plots inside cities," says the organization's leader.

Similar to other vintages, those created in cities are a product of the soils the vines grow in, the unpredictability of the weather and the people who care for the fruit. "A bottle of wine represents the charm, community, landscape and heritage of a city," adds the spokesperson.

Unknown Polish Grapes

Back in the city, Bayliss-Smith is in a race against time to harvest the vines he grew from a plant left in his allotment by a Eastern European household. Should the precipitation comes, then the pigeons may take advantage to feast once more. "Here we have the enigmatic Eastern European grape," he comments, as he cleans bruised and rotten berries from the glistering bunches. "We don't really know their exact classification, but they're definitely hardy. In contrast to noble varieties – Burgundy grapes, white wine grapes and other famous European varieties – you don't have to treat them with pesticides ... this is possibly a special variety that was developed by the Soviets."

Collective Efforts Across Bristol

The other members of the group are also making the most of sunny interludes between bursts of fall precipitation. On the terrace with views of the city's shimmering harbour, where historic trading ships once floated with barrels of wine from Europe and Spain, Katy Grant is harvesting her rondo grapes from about 50 vines. "I love the aroma of the grapevines. It is so reminiscent," she says, stopping with a container of grapes slung over her arm. "It's the scent of southern France when you roll down 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 family in 2018. She felt an strong responsibility to maintain the vines in the garden of their recently acquired property. "This vineyard has previously endured three different owners," she says. "I really like the idea of environmental care – of handing this down to future caretakers so they continue producing from this land."

Terraced Vineyards and Natural Winemaking

A short walk away, the remaining cultivators of the collective are hard at work on the steep inclines of the local river valley. Jo Scofield has established more than 150 plants perched on terraces in her expansive property, which tumbles down towards the silty River Avon. "People are always surprised," she notes, indicating the interwoven grape garden. "They can't believe they are viewing rows of vines in a urban neighborhood."

Today, Scofield, sixty, is harvesting clusters of dusty purple Rondo grapes from rows of vines slung across the hillside with the assistance of her daughter, Luca. The conservationist, a wildlife and conservation film-maker who has contributed to Netflix's nature programming and BBC Two's Gardeners' World, was inspired to cultivate vines after seeing her neighbor's vines. She has learned that hobbyists can make intriguing, pleasurable natural wine, which can command prices of upwards of £7 a serving in the increasing quantity of wine bars focusing on minimal-intervention vintages. "It's just deeply rewarding that you can truly make quality, traditional vintage," she says. "It is quite fashionable, but really it's reviving an old way of producing vintage."

"During foot-stomping the fruit, the various wild yeasts come off the surfaces and enter the juice," says the winemaker, ankle deep in a container of tiny stems, pips and crimson juice. "That's how wines were historically produced, but commercial producers add sulphur [dioxide] to kill the wild yeast and then add a commercially produced culture."

Challenging Conditions and Inventive Solutions

In the immediate vicinity sprightly retiree Bob Reeve, who motivated his neighbor to plant her vines, has assembled his companions to harvest white wine varieties from one hundred vines he has arranged precisely across multiple levels. Reeve, a northern English physical education instructor who worked at the local university cultivated an interest in wine on annual sporting trips to France. However it is a difficult task to cultivate Chardonnay grapes in the dampness of the valley, with temperature fluctuations sweeping in and out from the nearby estuary. "I aimed to make Burgundian wines here, which is somewhat ambitious," admits Reeve with a smile. "Chardonnay is late to ripen and very sensitive to mildew."

"My goal was creating European-style vintages in this environment, which is rather ambitious"

The unpredictable local weather is not the only problem encountered by winegrowers. Reeve has been compelled to install a barrier on