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Every quarter of an hour or so, an older diesel railway carriage arrives at a spray-painted station. Nearby, a law enforcement alarm cuts through the almost continuous traffic drone. Commuters hurry past collapsing, ivy-draped fencing panels as storm clouds gather.

It is maybe the last place you expect to find a perfectly formed grape-growing plot. But James Bayliss-Smith has managed to 40 mature vines heavy with plump mauve grapes on a sprawling allotment situated between a line of historic homes and a local rail line just north of the city downtown.

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

Bayliss-Smith, 46, a documentary cameraman who runs a fermented beverage company, is not the only local vintner. He has pulled together a loose collective of growers who produce wine from several discreet urban vineyards nestled in back gardens and community plots across Bristol. The project is sufficiently underground to have an formal title so far, but the group's messaging chat is called Grape Expectations.

Urban Vineyards Around the World

So far, Bayliss-Smith's allotment is the sole location registered in the Urban Vineyards Association's upcoming global directory, which features better-known urban wineries such as the eighteen hundred plants on the hillsides of the French capital's historic Montmartre area and over 3,000 grapevines with views of and within 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 cities in East Asia, South Asia and Uzbekistan.

"Grape gardens help urban areas stay greener and more diverse. They preserve open space from development by establishing long-term, yielding farming plots inside cities," says the organization's leader.

Similar to other vintages, those produced in cities are a result of the earth the vines thrive in, the unpredictability of the weather and the individuals who care for the fruit. "Each vintage embodies the beauty, community, environment and heritage of a city," notes the president.

Unknown Eastern European Variety

Returning to Bristol, the grower is in a race against time to harvest the grapevines he grew from a cutting abandoned in his garden by a Eastern European household. Should the rain arrives, then the birds may take advantage to feast again. "Here we have the enigmatic Eastern European grape," he says, as he cleans bruised and mouldy berries from the shimmering bunches. "The variety remains uncertain what variety they are, but they are certainly hardy. Unlike noble varieties – Burgundy grapes, Chardonnay and additional renowned French grapes – you need not spray them with pesticides ... this is possibly a special variety that was developed by the Eastern Bloc."

Collective Activities Throughout the City

The other members of the group are also taking advantage of bright periods between showers of autumn rain. On the terrace overlooking the city's glistening harbour, where historic trading ships once bobbed with barrels of wine from France and the Iberian peninsula, Katy Grant is collecting her rondo grapes from about fifty vines. "I love the smell of the grapevines. The scent is so evocative," she says, stopping with a container of grapes 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 20 years working for charitable groups in war-torn regions, unexpectedly inherited the vineyard when she moved back to the UK from Kenya with her family in 2018. She experienced an overwhelming duty to maintain the grapevines in the yard of their new home. "This vineyard has previously survived 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 the soil."

Terraced Gardens and Traditional Production

Nearby, the final two members of the collective are busily laboring on the precipitous slopes of Avon Gorge. Jo Scofield has established over one hundred fifty plants perched on ledges in her expansive property, which descends towards the silty River Avon. "People are always surprised," she notes, gesturing towards the tangled vineyard. "It's astonishing to them they can see grapevine lines in a urban neighborhood."

Currently, the filmmaker, sixty, is harvesting clusters of deep violet dark berries from rows of vines arranged along the hillside with the help of her daughter, Luca. Scofield, a wildlife and conservation film-maker who has worked on streaming service's nature programming and television network's Gardeners' World, was motivated to cultivate vines after observing her neighbour's grapevines. She's discovered that hobbyists can produce interesting, pleasurable traditional vintage, which can sell for more than £7 a serving in the growing number of wine bars focusing on minimal-intervention vintages. "It is deeply rewarding that you can actually make good, traditional vintage," she states. "It's very on trend, but really it's resurrecting an traditional method of producing vintage."

"During foot-stomping the grapes, all the natural microorganisms come off the surfaces into the juice," says Scofield, ankle deep in a bucket of tiny stems, pips and crimson juice. "This represents how vintages were historically produced, but industrial wineries add preservatives to eliminate the natural cultures and subsequently add a commercially produced yeast."

Difficult Conditions and Inventive Approaches

In the immediate vicinity active senior another cultivator, who inspired his neighbor to establish her vines, has assembled his friends to harvest Chardonnay grapes from the 100 plants he has arranged precisely across multiple levels. The former teacher, a Lancashire-born PE teacher who worked at the local university developed a passion for viticulture on regular visits to Europe. However it is a challenge to grow Chardonnay grapes in the dampness of the gorge, with temperature fluctuations moving through from the nearby estuary. "I aimed to produce French-style vintages here, which is a bit bonkers," admits the retiree with amusement. "Chardonnay is late to ripen and particularly vulnerable to mildew."

"I wanted to make Burgundian wines here, which is a bit bonkers"

The unpredictable local weather is not the only problem faced by winegrowers. Reeve has had to erect a barrier on