Bristol's Backyard Vineyards: Grape-Treading Fruit in Urban Gardens
Every quarter of an hour or so, an older diesel-powered railway carriage pulls into a spray-painted station. Close by, a law enforcement alarm pierces the almost continuous traffic drone. Commuters hurry past collapsing, ivy-draped fencing panels as rain clouds form.
It is maybe the last place you expect to find a well-established grape-growing plot. However James Bayliss-Smith has cultivated 40 mature vines heavy with round purplish grapes on a sprawling allotment sandwiched between a line of historic homes and a commuter railway just north of Bristol town centre.
"I've noticed individuals concealing heroin or other items in those bushes," states Bayliss-Smith. "But you simply continue ... and keep tending to your grapevines."
Bayliss-Smith, 46, a documentary cameraman who runs a kombucha drinks business, is not the only local vintner. He has organized a loose collective of cultivators who make vintage from four hidden urban vineyards tucked away in private yards and allotments throughout Bristol. It is too clandestine to have an official name so far, but the group's messaging chat is called Grape Expectations.
Urban Wine Gardens Around the World
So far, the grower's plot is the only one listed in the City Vineyard Network's upcoming world atlas, which includes better-known urban wineries such as the 1,800 vines on the slopes of the French capital's renowned artistic district neighbourhood and over 3,000 grapevines overlooking and inside the Italian city. Based in Italy non-profit association is at the forefront of a movement reviving city vineyards in traditional winemaking countries, but has identified them all over the world, including cities in East Asia, Bangladesh and Uzbekistan.
"Vineyards help urban areas stay greener and more diverse. These spaces protect land from development by establishing permanent, productive agricultural units within urban environments," explains the organization's leader.
Like all wines, those produced in cities are a product of the earth the vines thrive in, the unpredictability of the weather and the individuals who care for the fruit. "A bottle of wine represents the beauty, local spirit, environment and history of a city," notes the spokesperson.
Mystery Eastern European Variety
Back in Bristol, the grower is in a urgent timeline to harvest the vines he cultivated from a plant abandoned in his garden by a Polish family. If the precipitation arrives, then the pigeons may seize their chance to feast once more. "Here we have the enigmatic Eastern European variety," he says, as he cleans damaged and rotten berries from the glistering clusters. "We don't really know their exact classification, but they're definitely disease-resistant. In contrast to premium grapes – Pinot Noir, white wine grapes and additional renowned French grapes – you need not treat them with chemicals ... this could be a special variety that was developed by the Eastern Bloc."
Group Efforts Across the City
The other members of the collective are additionally taking advantage of sunny interludes between bursts of autumn rain. At a rooftop garden overlooking the city's shimmering harbour, where medieval merchant vessels once bobbed with barrels of vintage from Europe and the Iberian peninsula, Katy Grant is collecting her dark berries from about 50 vines. "I adore the aroma of these vines. It is so evocative," she says, pausing with a container of fruit slung over her arm. "It recalls the fragrance of Provence when you open the vehicle windows on holiday."
The humanitarian worker, 52, who has devoted more than two decades working for humanitarian organizations in conflict zones, unexpectedly took over the grape garden when she moved back to the United Kingdom from East Africa with her household in recent years. She experienced an overwhelming duty to look after the grapevines in the garden of their new home. "This plot has previously endured three different owners," she says. "I really like the idea of environmental care – of passing this on to someone else so they keep cultivating from the soil."
Sloping Gardens and Traditional Production
Nearby, the remaining cultivators of the group are busily laboring on the precipitous slopes of the local river valley. Jo Scofield has cultivated over one hundred fifty vines situated on terraces in her expansive property, which descends towards the muddy local waterway. "Visitors frequently express amazement," she notes, gesturing towards the interwoven vineyard. "It's astonishing to them they can see rows of vines in a city street."
Currently, Scofield, sixty, is harvesting clusters of deep violet dark berries from lines of vines slung across the cliff-side with the assistance of her child, Luca. Scofield, a documentary producer who has contributed to streaming service's nature programming and television network's Gardeners' World, was motivated to plant grapes after observing her neighbor's grapevines. She has learned that amateurs can produce interesting, pleasurable traditional vintage, which can sell for upwards of £7 a glass in the growing number of wine bars specialising in minimal-intervention vintages. "It's just incredibly satisfying that you can actually make quality, natural wine," she says. "It's very on trend, but in reality it's resurrecting an old way of making wine."
"During foot-stomping the grapes, all the natural microorganisms come off the skins into the juice," says Scofield, partially submerged in a bucket of tiny stems, pips and red liquid. "This represents how wines were made traditionally, but industrial wineries introduce preservatives to kill the natural cultures and then incorporate a lab-grown culture."
Challenging Conditions and Inventive Approaches
A few doors down sprightly retiree Bob Reeve, who motivated Scofield to plant her vines, has assembled his friends to harvest white wine varieties from the 100 vines he has laid out neatly across two terraces. The former teacher, a northern English physical education instructor who taught at the local university cultivated an interest in viticulture on regular visits to Europe. But it is a challenge to cultivate this particular variety in the dampness of the gorge, with cooling tides moving through from the nearby estuary. "I wanted to produce Burgundian wines here, which is a bit bonkers," admits Reeve with a smile. "This variety is late to ripen and particularly vulnerable to fungal infections."
"My goal was creating Burgundian wines here, which is rather ambitious"
The unpredictable local weather is not the sole challenge encountered by grape cultivators. The gardener has had to erect a barrier on