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Every 20 minutes or so, an older diesel-powered train pulls into a graffiti-covered station. Nearby, a law enforcement alarm pierces the almost continuous traffic drone. Commuters rush by falling apart, ivy-draped garden fences as storm clouds form.

This is perhaps the least likely spot you anticipate to find a well-established grape-growing plot. But one local grower has managed to 40 mature vines heavy with round mauve grapes on a rambling garden plot situated between a row of 1930s houses and a commuter railway just above the city downtown.

"I've noticed people hiding illegal substances or whatever in those bushes," states the grower. "But you just get on with it ... and keep tending to your grapevines."

Bayliss-Smith, forty-six, a documentary cameraman who also has a fermented beverage company, is among several local vintner. He's organized a loose collective of cultivators who make wine from four discreet city grape gardens tucked away in private yards and community plots throughout Bristol. It is too clandestine to have an formal title so far, but the collective's WhatsApp group is called Grape Expectations.

City Wine Gardens Around the Globe

So far, the grower's allotment is the sole location registered in the City Vineyard Network's upcoming world atlas, which includes more famous city vineyards such as the eighteen hundred plants on the hillsides of Paris's historic Montmartre area and more than three thousand grapevines with views of and inside the Italian city. The Italian-based non-profit association is at the vanguard of a movement reviving city vineyards in traditional winemaking nations, but has identified them throughout the world, including urban centers in Japan, Bangladesh and Uzbekistan.

"Grape gardens assist cities stay more eco-friendly and more diverse. These spaces protect 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 urban areas are a product of the soils the vines grow in, the vagaries of the weather and the individuals who care for the fruit. "A bottle of wine embodies the beauty, community, landscape and heritage of a city," notes the president.

Unknown Eastern European Variety

Returning to the city, Bayliss-Smith is in a race against time to gather the vines he grew from a plant left in his allotment by a Eastern European household. Should the precipitation comes, then the pigeons may seize their chance to attack again. "This is the enigmatic Polish variety," he says, as he cleans bruised and rotten berries from the shimmering bunches. "The variety remains uncertain what variety they are, but they are certainly disease-resistant. In contrast to premium grapes – Pinot Noir, white wine grapes 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 Eastern Bloc."

Collective Efforts Throughout the City

Additional participants of the collective are additionally taking advantage of bright periods between bursts of fall precipitation. At a rooftop garden overlooking the city's shimmering harbour, where historic trading ships once bobbed with casks of wine from France and the Iberian peninsula, Katy Grant is harvesting her rondo grapes from about fifty plants. "I love the aroma of the grapevines. The scent is so evocative," she says, pausing with a container of fruit slung over her shoulder. "It recalls the fragrance of Provence when you open the vehicle windows on vacation."

Grant, 52, who has devoted more than two decades working for humanitarian organizations in war-torn regions, inadvertently took over the vineyard when she moved back to the United Kingdom from Kenya with her family in recent years. She felt an overwhelming duty to maintain the vines in the garden of their new home. "This plot has previously survived three different owners," she says. "I really like the idea of natural stewardship – of handing this down to future caretakers so they keep cultivating from this land."

Sloping Vineyards and Traditional Production

A short walk away, the remaining cultivators of the group are hard at work on the precipitous slopes of the local river valley. One filmmaker has established more than 150 plants perched on ledges in her expansive property, which tumbles down towards the silty River Avon. "Visitors frequently express amazement," she notes, indicating the tangled vineyard. "It's astonishing to them they are viewing rows of vines in a city street."

Currently, Scofield, sixty, is harvesting clusters of dusty purple dark berries from rows of plants slung across the cliff-side with the assistance of her child, Luca. Scofield, a documentary producer who has worked on streaming service's Great National Parks series and BBC Two's Gardeners' World, was inspired to plant grapes after observing her neighbour's grapevines. She's discovered that amateurs can make intriguing, enjoyable natural wine, which can command prices of more than £7 a serving in the growing number of wine bars focusing on low-processing vintages. "It is incredibly satisfying that you can truly make quality, natural wine," she says. "It's very fashionable, but really it's resurrecting an old way of making wine."

"When I tread the grapes, all the natural microorganisms are released from the skins and enter the liquid," says Scofield, ankle deep in a bucket of small branches, seeds and crimson juice. "This represents how wines were historically produced, but commercial producers add sulphur [dioxide] to kill the wild yeast and subsequently add a lab-grown yeast."

Difficult Environments and Inventive Solutions

In the immediate vicinity active senior Bob Reeve, who motivated Scofield to establish her grapevines, has gathered his companions to pick white wine varieties from the 100 plants he has arranged precisely across multiple levels. Reeve, a northern English physical education instructor who worked at Bristol University developed a passion for viticulture on regular visits to Europe. However it is a challenge to grow this particular variety in the humidity of the valley, with temperature fluctuations sweeping in and out from the Bristol Channel. "I aimed to produce French-style vintages in this location, which is a bit bonkers," says Reeve with a smile. "Chardonnay is slow-maturing and very sensitive to mildew."

"I wanted to make European-style vintages in this environment, which is rather ambitious"

The unpredictable Bristol climate is not the only problem faced by grape cultivators. Reeve has had to install a barrier on