The City of Bristol's Backyard Vineyards: Grape-Treading Grapes in Urban Gardens
Every quarter of an hour or so, an older diesel railway carriage pulls into a spray-painted station. Close by, a law enforcement alarm cuts through the near-constant road noise. Commuters rush by collapsing, ivy-draped garden fences as storm clouds gather.
This is maybe the least likely spot you anticipate to find a perfectly formed vineyard. However James Bayliss-Smith has cultivated 40 mature vines sagging with plump purplish berries on a rambling garden plot sandwiched between a row of historic homes and a commuter railway just north of Bristol downtown.
"I've seen people hiding illegal substances or other items in those bushes," says the grower. "But you simply continue ... and keep tending to your grapevines."
Bayliss-Smith, forty-six, a filmmaker who also has a fermented beverage company, is not the only urban winemaker. He has pulled together a informal group of cultivators who make wine from several discreet city grape gardens nestled in back gardens and community plots across the city. It is too clandestine to have an official name so far, but the collective's WhatsApp group is named Vineyard Dreams.
City Wine Gardens Around the Globe
So far, Bayliss-Smith's allotment is the only one listed in the Urban Vineyards Association's upcoming world atlas, which features better-known urban wineries such as the eighteen hundred vines on the hillsides of Paris's renowned Montmartre area and over 3,000 grapevines overlooking and inside the Italian city. Based in Italy charitable organization is at the vanguard of a movement reviving city vineyards in traditional winemaking countries, but has identified them throughout the world, including cities in East Asia, Bangladesh and Central Asia.
"Vineyards assist cities stay greener and more diverse. These spaces protect land from development by establishing permanent, productive agricultural units within cities," explains the association's president.
Like all wines, those produced in cities are a result of the soils the vines grow in, the unpredictability of the weather and the individuals who tend the fruit. "A bottle of wine represents the charm, community, environment and heritage of a city," notes the spokesperson.
Unknown Polish Grapes
Back in the city, Bayliss-Smith is in a race against time to harvest the grapevines he grew from a cutting left in his garden by a Polish family. If the precipitation comes, then the pigeons may take advantage to feast once more. "Here we have the enigmatic Eastern European variety," he comments, as he removes damaged and mouldy berries from the shimmering clusters. "We don't really know their exact classification, but they are certainly disease-resistant. In contrast to premium grapes – Pinot Noir, white wine grapes and other famous European varieties – you don't have to spray them with chemicals ... this is possibly a unique cultivar that was developed by the Eastern Bloc."
Collective Activities Throughout the City
The other members of the collective are additionally making the most of sunny interludes between showers of fall precipitation. On the terrace overlooking the city's shimmering waterfront, where historic trading ships once bobbed with casks of vintage from France and Spain, one cultivator is harvesting her rondo grapes from approximately 50 vines. "I love the smell of the grapevines. The scent is so evocative," she remarks, stopping with a container of fruit resting on her arm. "It's the scent of Provence when you roll down the vehicle windows on vacation."
The humanitarian worker, 52, who has spent over 20 years working for humanitarian organizations in war-torn regions, inadvertently inherited the grape garden when she moved back to the UK from East Africa with her family in 2018. She experienced an overwhelming duty to maintain the vines in the garden of their new home. "This plot has already survived three different owners," she explains. "I really like the concept of environmental care – of passing this on to someone else so they continue producing from the soil."
Sloping Vineyards and Traditional Winemaking
Nearby, the final two members of the group are busily laboring on the steep inclines of the local river valley. Jo Scofield has established over one hundred fifty vines situated on terraces in her expansive property, which tumbles down towards the silty local waterway. "Visitors frequently express amazement," she notes, indicating the interwoven grape garden. "They can't believe they are viewing rows of vines in a urban neighborhood."
Currently, Scofield, 60, is picking bunches of dusty purple dark berries from lines of plants slung across the hillside with the help of her child, her family member. Scofield, a wildlife and conservation film-maker who has contributed to Netflix's nature programming and television network's gardening shows, was motivated to plant grapes after seeing her neighbor's vines. She's discovered that amateurs can make intriguing, enjoyable natural wine, which can sell for upwards of £7 a glass in the growing number of establishments focusing on low-processing vintages. "It's just deeply rewarding that you can actually create quality, natural wine," she states. "It is quite on trend, but really it's resurrecting an traditional method of making wine."
"When I tread the fruit, the various natural microorganisms are released from the surfaces into the juice," explains Scofield, ankle deep in a container of small branches, seeds and red liquid. "That's how vintages were made traditionally, but commercial producers introduce preservatives to kill the wild yeast and subsequently add a commercially produced yeast."
Challenging Environments and Inventive Approaches
A few doors down sprightly retiree another cultivator, who inspired Scofield to establish her vines, has gathered his companions to harvest white wine varieties from the 100 plants he has laid out neatly across two terraces. Reeve, a Lancashire-born physical education instructor who worked at the local university developed a passion for wine on regular visits to Europe. However it is a difficult task to cultivate this particular variety in the dampness of the gorge, with temperature fluctuations moving through from the Bristol Channel. "I wanted to make Burgundian wines here, which is a bit bonkers," admits Reeve with a smile. "Chardonnay is slow-maturing and particularly vulnerable to mildew."
"I wanted to make European-style vintages here, which is rather ambitious"
The temperamental local weather is not the only problem faced by winegrowers. The gardener has been compelled to erect a fence on