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Every 20 minutes or so, an older diesel-powered train pulls into a graffiti-covered station. Nearby, a police siren pierces the near-constant road noise. Commuters rush by collapsing, ivy-draped garden fences as storm clouds gather.

It is maybe the least likely spot you expect to find a perfectly formed grape-growing plot. But James Bayliss-Smith has managed to 40 mature vines heavy with round purplish grapes on a rambling allotment situated between a line of historic homes and a local rail line just above Bristol downtown.

"I've seen people hiding illegal substances or whatever in those bushes," says Bayliss-Smith. "Yet you simply continue ... and continue caring for your vines."

The cameraman, forty-six, a filmmaker who also has a kombucha drinks business, is not the only urban winemaker. He's pulled together a informal group of growers who produce wine from several discreet urban vineyards tucked away in back gardens and community plots across the city. It is sufficiently underground to have an official name yet, but the collective's WhatsApp group is called Grape Expectations.

Urban Vineyards Across the Globe

To date, the grower's allotment is the sole location listed in the City Vineyard Network's upcoming world atlas, which includes more famous urban wineries such as the 1,800 plants on the hillsides of the French capital's historic artistic district area and more than three thousand vines overlooking and inside Turin. The Italian-based non-profit association is at the forefront of a initiative reviving city vineyards in traditional winemaking countries, but has discovered them throughout the world, including urban centers in East Asia, South Asia and Uzbekistan.

"Grape gardens help cities stay greener and ecologically varied. They protect open space from construction by creating permanent, yielding farming plots within cities," explains the association's president.

Like all wines, those created in urban areas are a result of the earth the vines grow in, the vagaries of the weather and the individuals who care for the grapes. "Each vintage embodies the beauty, local spirit, environment and heritage of a urban center," notes the president.

Unknown Polish Variety

Returning to Bristol, the grower is in a urgent timeline to harvest the vines he grew from a cutting left in his allotment by a Eastern European household. Should the rain comes, then the pigeons may take advantage to feast once more. "Here we have the mystery Polish grape," he comments, as he cleans bruised and mouldy grapes from the shimmering bunches. "We don't really know their exact classification, but they're definitely disease-resistant. In contrast to premium grapes – Burgundy grapes, Chardonnay and other famous European varieties – you need not treat them with pesticides ... this could be a special variety that was bred by the Eastern Bloc."

Group Activities Across the City

The other members of the group are additionally making the most of sunny interludes between bursts of fall precipitation. On the terrace with views of Bristol's shimmering harbour, where historic trading ships once floated with barrels of wine from France and the Iberian peninsula, Katy Grant is collecting her dark berries from approximately fifty vines. "I love the smell of these vines. The scent is so evocative," she remarks, stopping with a basket of grapes resting on her arm. "It's the scent of Provence when you open the vehicle windows on vacation."

The humanitarian worker, 52, who has spent over two decades working for charitable groups in conflict zones, inadvertently took over the grape garden when she moved back to the UK from Kenya with her family in 2018. She experienced an strong responsibility to look after the vines in the garden of their recently acquired property. "This plot has previously endured three different owners," she says. "I deeply appreciate the idea of natural stewardship – of passing this on to future caretakers so they can continue producing from this land."

Sloping Gardens and Traditional Winemaking

A short walk away, the remaining cultivators of the group are hard at work on the precipitous slopes of Avon Gorge. One filmmaker has established over 150 vines perched on terraces in her wild half-acre garden, which tumbles down towards the muddy local waterway. "People are always surprised," she notes, gesturing towards the interwoven vineyard. "It's astonishing to them they can see rows of vines in a urban neighborhood."

Currently, the filmmaker, sixty, is harvesting clusters of deep violet dark berries from lines of plants arranged along the hillside with the assistance of her daughter, her family member. Scofield, a documentary producer who has worked on Netflix's Great National Parks series and television network's gardening shows, was motivated to cultivate vines after observing her neighbour's grapevines. She's discovered that hobbyists can produce intriguing, pleasurable natural wine, which can sell for upwards of £7 a serving in the increasing quantity of establishments specialising in low-processing wines. "It is incredibly satisfying that you can actually create good, traditional vintage," she states. "It's very fashionable, but really it's reviving an old way of making wine."

"When I tread the grapes, the various wild yeasts are released from the surfaces into the liquid," explains Scofield, ankle deep in a bucket of tiny stems, pips and red liquid. "That's how vintages were made traditionally, but commercial producers introduce sulphur [dioxide] to kill the natural cultures and subsequently add a commercially produced yeast."

Challenging Conditions and Inventive Approaches

A few doors down sprightly retiree another cultivator, who motivated Scofield to plant her vines, has assembled his friends to harvest Chardonnay grapes from one hundred vines he has arranged precisely across two terraces. Reeve, a northern English physical education instructor who worked at the local university developed a passion for wine on annual sporting trips to France. However it is a challenge to cultivate Chardonnay grapes in the dampness of the gorge, with temperature fluctuations moving through from the Bristol Channel. "I aimed to produce French-style vintages in this location, which is a bit bonkers," says Reeve with amusement. "Chardonnay is late to ripen and very sensitive to mildew."

"My goal was creating European-style vintages here, which is rather ambitious"

The unpredictable Bristol climate is not the only challenge faced by winegrowers. Reeve has been compelled to erect a barrier on