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Every quarter of an hour or so, an ageing diesel train arrives at a graffiti-covered stop. Close by, a police siren pierces the near-constant traffic drone. Daily travelers hurry past collapsing, ivy-covered garden fences as rain clouds gather.

It is maybe the last place you anticipate to find a well-established grape-growing plot. But James Bayliss-Smith has managed to four dozen established plants sagging with round mauve berries on a sprawling allotment sandwiched between a line of historic homes and a local rail line just north of the city town centre.

"I've noticed people hiding illegal substances or other items in those bushes," states Bayliss-Smith. "But you just get on with it ... and continue caring for your vines."

The cameraman, 46, a filmmaker who also has a kombucha drinks business, is among several urban winemaker. He's pulled together a informal group of cultivators who produce vintage from several hidden urban vineyards tucked away in private yards and community plots across the city. It is sufficiently underground to possess an formal title yet, but the group's WhatsApp group is called Grape Expectations.

Urban Vineyards Across the Globe

To date, the grower's allotment is the only one registered in the Urban Vineyards Association's forthcoming global directory, which includes more famous city vineyards such as the eighteen hundred plants on the hillsides of the French capital's historic Montmartre neighbourhood and over 3,000 grapevines with views of and inside the Italian city. The Italian-based charitable organization is at the forefront of a movement reviving urban grape cultivation in traditional winemaking nations, but has identified them all over the world, including cities in Japan, South Asia and Central Asia.

"Vineyards help cities remain more eco-friendly and ecologically varied. These spaces protect open space from construction by establishing long-term, yielding agricultural units inside urban environments," says the association's president.

Like all wines, those created in cities are a result of the soils the plants grow in, the unpredictability of the weather and the individuals who tend the fruit. "A bottle of wine embodies the charm, local spirit, environment and history of a city," adds the spokesperson.

Mystery Eastern European Grapes

Back in the city, the grower is in a race against time to gather the vines he grew from a plant left in his garden by a Polish family. Should the rain comes, then the pigeons may seize their chance to feast once more. "Here we have the mystery Polish variety," he comments, as he cleans damaged and mouldy berries from the glistering bunches. "We don't really know what variety they are, but they are certainly disease-resistant. In contrast to noble varieties – Pinot Noir, Chardonnay and other famous French grapes – you don't have to treat them with pesticides ... this is possibly a unique cultivar that was developed by the Soviets."

Collective Activities Throughout Bristol

The other members of the group are additionally making the most of bright periods between showers of autumn rain. At a rooftop garden with views of Bristol's shimmering waterfront, where historic trading ships once bobbed with casks of vintage from Europe and the Iberian peninsula, one cultivator is harvesting her dark berries from approximately 50 vines. "I adore the aroma of the grapevines. It is so reminiscent," she remarks, pausing with a container of grapes slung over her arm. "It's the scent of southern France when you roll down the vehicle windows on holiday."

The humanitarian worker, 52, who has spent over two decades working for charitable groups in conflict zones, inadvertently took over the vineyard when she returned to the UK from East Africa with her family in recent years. She felt an overwhelming duty to look after the grapevines in the garden of their recently acquired property. "This vineyard has previously survived multiple proprietors," she explains. "I really like the idea of natural stewardship – of handing this down to someone else so they can keep cultivating from this land."

Terraced Gardens and Traditional Production

Nearby, the final two members of the group are busily laboring on the steep inclines of the local river valley. One filmmaker has cultivated more than one hundred fifty vines situated on ledges in her wild half-acre garden, which tumbles down towards the muddy River Avon. "Visitors frequently express amazement," she notes, gesturing towards the tangled vineyard. "It's astonishing to them they can see grapevine lines in a urban neighborhood."

Currently, Scofield, 60, is harvesting clusters of deep violet dark berries from rows of plants arranged along the hillside with the help of her daughter, her family member. The conservationist, a wildlife and conservation film-maker who has worked on Netflix's nature programming and television network's gardening shows, was inspired to cultivate vines after observing her neighbor's grapevines. She's discovered that amateurs can produce intriguing, pleasurable traditional vintage, which can sell for more than seven pounds a serving in the increasing quantity of establishments focusing on low-processing wines. "It is deeply rewarding that you can truly make quality, traditional vintage," she states. "It is quite fashionable, but in reality it's reviving an old way of making vintage."

"When I tread the grapes, all the natural microorganisms are released from the surfaces and enter the liquid," explains the winemaker, partially submerged in a bucket of small branches, seeds and red liquid. "That's how vintages were made traditionally, but commercial producers add preservatives to kill the natural cultures and then incorporate a lab-grown yeast."

Difficult Environments and Creative Approaches

In the immediate vicinity sprightly retiree another cultivator, who inspired his neighbor to plant her vines, has assembled his friends to pick white wine varieties from one hundred vines he has arranged precisely across multiple levels. The former teacher, a northern English physical education instructor who worked at the local university developed a passion for wine on regular visits to France. But it is a difficult task to cultivate Chardonnay grapes in the humidity of the valley, with temperature fluctuations moving through from the Bristol Channel. "I aimed to produce French-style vintages here, which is a bit bonkers," says Reeve with amusement. "Chardonnay is late to ripen and very sensitive to fungal infections."

"I wanted to make Burgundian wines in this environment, which is rather ambitious"

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