Bristol's Garden Wine Gardens: Grape-Treading Grapes in Urban Gardens

Every 20 minutes or so, an ageing diesel train pulls into a spray-painted stop. Nearby, a law enforcement alarm pierces the near-constant traffic drone. Commuters rush by falling apart, ivy-draped fencing panels as rain clouds gather.

It is maybe the least likely spot you anticipate to find a well-established grape-growing plot. But James Bayliss-Smith has managed to four dozen established plants sagging with plump purplish berries on a rambling garden plot sandwiched between a line of 1930s houses and a commuter railway just north of Bristol downtown.

"I've seen people concealing heroin or other items in the shrubbery," states Bayliss-Smith. "But you simply continue ... and continue caring for your vines."

The cameraman, forty-six, a filmmaker who runs a fermented beverage company, is not the only urban winemaker. He has pulled together a loose collective of growers who produce wine from four discreet city grape gardens nestled in private yards and community plots across Bristol. The project is sufficiently underground to have an formal title yet, but the group's messaging chat is called Grape Expectations.

City Wine Gardens Across the World

To date, the grower's allotment is the only one listed in the Urban Vineyards Association's forthcoming global directory, which includes more famous urban wineries such as the 1,800 vines on the slopes of the French capital's renowned artistic district area and more than 3,000 grapevines with views of and inside Turin. The Italian-based charitable organization is at the forefront of a movement re-establishing urban grape cultivation in historic wine-producing nations, but has identified them throughout the globe, including cities in Japan, South Asia and Uzbekistan.

"Vineyards assist urban areas remain greener and ecologically varied. They protect land from construction by creating long-term, yielding farming plots inside cities," says the organization's leader.

Similar to other vintages, those created in cities are a result of the soils the plants thrive in, the unpredictability of the weather and the people who care for the grapes. "Each vintage embodies the beauty, local spirit, landscape and heritage of a city," notes the president.

Unknown Polish Grapes

Returning to Bristol, Bayliss-Smith is in a urgent timeline to gather the vines he grew from a plant abandoned in his allotment by a Eastern European household. If the rain comes, then the birds may seize their chance to attack again. "This is the mystery Polish grape," he says, as he removes damaged and mouldy grapes from the shimmering bunches. "We don't really know their exact classification, but they are certainly disease-resistant. In contrast to noble varieties – Pinot Noir, white wine grapes and other famous European varieties – you don't have to treat them with pesticides ... this could be a special variety that was developed by the Soviets."

Collective Activities Across Bristol

The other members of the group are additionally making the most of sunny interludes between showers of fall precipitation. On the terrace with views of Bristol's glistening waterfront, where historic trading ships once bobbed with barrels of wine from Europe and the Iberian peninsula, one cultivator is harvesting her dark berries from approximately fifty vines. "I love the aroma of the grapevines. The scent is so reminiscent," she remarks, stopping with a basket of fruit resting on her arm. "It recalls the fragrance of southern France when you roll down the vehicle windows on vacation."

The humanitarian worker, 52, who has spent over 20 years working for charitable groups in conflict zones, unexpectedly inherited the grape garden when she returned to the United Kingdom from East Africa with her household in recent years. She experienced an overwhelming duty to look after the vines in the yard of their new home. "This plot has previously survived multiple proprietors," she says. "I really like the idea of environmental care – of passing this on to future caretakers so they can continue producing from this land."

Terraced Vineyards and Traditional Production

A short walk away, the final two members of the group are busily laboring on the steep inclines of the local river valley. Jo Scofield has established more than one hundred fifty plants situated on terraces in her wild half-acre garden, which descends towards the muddy River Avon. "Visitors frequently express amazement," she says, gesturing towards the interwoven grape garden. "They can't believe they can see grapevine lines in a city street."

Currently, the filmmaker, sixty, is picking clusters of deep violet Rondo grapes from rows of vines slung across the cliff-side with the help of her daughter, Luca. The conservationist, a documentary producer who has contributed to Netflix's Great National Parks series and BBC Two's gardening shows, was inspired to plant grapes after seeing her neighbour's vines. She has learned that hobbyists can produce interesting, enjoyable natural wine, which can command prices of upwards of seven pounds a glass in the growing number of wine bars focusing on low-processing wines. "It's just incredibly satisfying that you can actually create good, traditional vintage," she says. "It is quite on trend, but in reality it's resurrecting an old way of making vintage."

"When I tread the grapes, the various natural microorganisms are released from the skins and enter the liquid," explains the winemaker, partially submerged in a container of tiny stems, seeds and red liquid. "That's how vintages were made traditionally, but industrial wineries add sulphur [dioxide] to eliminate the natural cultures and subsequently incorporate a commercially produced culture."

Difficult Conditions and Inventive Approaches

In the immediate vicinity active senior Bob Reeve, who inspired Scofield to establish her vines, has gathered his friends to pick white wine varieties from one hundred vines he has arranged precisely across two terraces. The former teacher, a Lancashire-born physical education instructor who taught at Bristol University cultivated an interest in wine on regular visits to France. But it is a difficult task to cultivate Chardonnay grapes in the humidity of the valley, with temperature fluctuations sweeping in and out from the nearby estuary. "I wanted to produce Burgundian wines here, which is a bit bonkers," says Reeve with a smile. "Chardonnay is slow-maturing and particularly vulnerable to fungal infections."

"My goal was creating Burgundian wines here, which is rather ambitious"

The unpredictable Bristol climate is not the only challenge encountered by winegrowers. Reeve has had to install a fence on