Bristol's Backyard Vineyards: Foot-Stomping Grapes in City Spaces

Every quarter of an hour or so, an ageing diesel-powered railway carriage arrives at a spray-painted station. Nearby, a police siren pierces the near-constant road noise. Daily travelers hurry past collapsing, ivy-covered garden fences as rain clouds gather.

This is maybe the least likely spot you expect to find a well-established grape-growing plot. However one local grower has cultivated 40 mature vines sagging with round mauve berries on a sprawling allotment situated between a row of historic homes and a commuter railway just above Bristol downtown.

"I've seen people concealing illegal substances or other items in the shrubbery," states the grower. "But you just get on with it ... and continue caring for your grapevines."

Bayliss-Smith, forty-six, a documentary cameraman who runs a fermented beverage company, is among several urban winemaker. He has pulled together a informal group of cultivators who produce vintage from four hidden city grape gardens nestled in private yards and community plots across Bristol. It is too clandestine to possess an formal title so far, but the group's messaging chat is named Vineyard Dreams.

Urban Vineyards Around the Globe

To date, Bayliss-Smith's allotment is the only one registered in the City Vineyard Network's forthcoming global directory, which features more famous city vineyards such as the eighteen hundred vines on the slopes of the French capital's historic Montmartre area and more than 3,000 grapevines overlooking and inside Turin. The Italian-based non-profit association is at the vanguard of a movement reviving urban grape cultivation in historic wine-producing countries, but has identified them all over the globe, including urban centers in East Asia, Bangladesh and Uzbekistan.

"Vineyards help cities stay more eco-friendly and ecologically varied. They preserve land from construction by establishing permanent, productive farming plots inside urban environments," explains the organization's leader.

Similar to other vintages, those created in urban areas are a product of the soils the vines thrive in, the vagaries of the climate and the people who tend the fruit. "Each vintage represents the beauty, community, environment and history of a city," notes the president.

Mystery Polish Variety

Back in Bristol, Bayliss-Smith is in a urgent timeline to gather the grapevines he grew from a cutting left in his allotment by a Eastern European household. Should the precipitation comes, then the birds may seize their chance to attack once more. "Here we have the enigmatic Eastern European variety," he comments, as he cleans damaged and mouldy grapes from the glistering clusters. "The variety remains uncertain what variety they are, but they're definitely disease-resistant. Unlike premium grapes – Burgundy grapes, white wine grapes and other famous French grapes – you don't have to treat them with pesticides ... this is possibly a special variety that was developed by the Eastern Bloc."

Group Efforts Throughout Bristol

Additional participants of the collective are additionally making the most of sunny interludes between bursts of autumn rain. On the terrace with views of the city's shimmering harbour, where medieval merchant vessels once bobbed with barrels of vintage from Europe and Spain, Katy Grant is harvesting her dark berries from approximately 50 plants. "I adore the aroma of the grapevines. It is so evocative," she says, stopping with a basket of fruit slung over her arm. "It's the scent of southern France when you roll down the car windows on holiday."

Grant, 52, who has devoted more than two decades working for charitable groups in war-torn regions, inadvertently took over the grape garden when she moved back to the UK from Kenya with her family in 2018. She experienced an overwhelming duty to look after the grapevines in the yard of their recently acquired property. "This plot has already survived three different owners," she explains. "I really like the idea of natural stewardship – of passing this on to future caretakers so they continue producing from the soil."

Sloping Gardens and Traditional Production

Nearby, the remaining cultivators of the group are busily laboring on the steep inclines of Avon Gorge. One filmmaker has established over one hundred fifty plants situated on ledges in her expansive property, which tumbles down towards the muddy River Avon. "People are always surprised," she notes, indicating the interwoven grape garden. "It's astonishing to them they can see rows of vines in a urban neighborhood."

Today, Scofield, 60, is harvesting clusters of dusty purple dark berries from rows of plants slung across the cliff-side with the help of her daughter, Luca. Scofield, a documentary producer who has contributed to Netflix's Great National Parks series and television network's gardening shows, was inspired to plant grapes after observing her neighbor's grapevines. She's discovered that amateurs can produce interesting, pleasurable natural wine, which can command prices of more than seven pounds a glass in the growing number of establishments focusing on low-processing wines. "It is deeply rewarding that you can actually create quality, traditional vintage," she says. "It is quite on trend, but really it's reviving an old way of making wine."

"During foot-stomping the grapes, the various wild yeasts come off the skins into the juice," explains Scofield, ankle deep in a container of small branches, pips and red liquid. "That's how wines were historically produced, but commercial producers introduce preservatives to kill the natural cultures and then add a lab-grown yeast."

Challenging Environments and Inventive Approaches

A few doors down sprightly retiree Bob Reeve, who inspired Scofield to establish her vines, has assembled his companions to pick Chardonnay grapes from one hundred plants he has laid out neatly across two terraces. The former teacher, a Lancashire-born PE teacher who worked at Bristol University developed a passion for wine on regular visits to France. However it is a challenge to cultivate Chardonnay grapes in the dampness of the gorge, with temperature fluctuations moving through from the nearby estuary. "I wanted to make French-style vintages here, which is a bit bonkers," admits the retiree with a smile. "This variety is late to ripen and very sensitive to fungal infections."

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

The temperamental local weather is not the only problem encountered by grape cultivators. Reeve has been compelled to install a fence on