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Each quarter of an hour or so, an ageing diesel railway carriage arrives at a spray-painted station. Nearby, a police siren cuts through the near-constant road noise. Commuters rush by falling apart, ivy-draped fencing panels as storm clouds gather.

This is perhaps the least likely spot you expect to find a well-established grape-growing plot. However James Bayliss-Smith has cultivated 40 mature vines sagging with round mauve berries on a rambling garden plot sandwiched between a row of 1930s houses and a commuter railway just above Bristol town centre.

"I've seen individuals concealing heroin or other items in the shrubbery," states Bayliss-Smith. "Yet you simply continue ... and keep tending to your vines."

Bayliss-Smith, forty-six, a documentary cameraman who runs a fermented beverage company, is among several urban winemaker. He's pulled together a informal group of growers who make wine from four hidden city grape gardens tucked away in private yards and community plots throughout the city. It is sufficiently underground to have an formal title so far, but the group's WhatsApp group is called Vineyard Dreams.

City Wine Gardens Around the World

To date, Bayliss-Smith's plot is the sole location listed in the City Vineyard Network's upcoming global directory, which features better-known city vineyards such as the eighteen hundred vines on the slopes of the French capital's historic Montmartre area and over three thousand grapevines with views of and within the Italian city. Based in Italy non-profit association is at the vanguard of a movement reviving urban grape cultivation in historic wine-producing nations, but has discovered them throughout the globe, including cities in Japan, South Asia and Uzbekistan.

"Grape gardens assist urban areas remain greener and ecologically varied. They preserve land from development by creating long-term, yielding agricultural units within urban environments," says the association's president.

Like all wines, those produced in cities are a product of the soils the plants thrive in, the unpredictability of the weather and the individuals who tend the fruit. "Each vintage represents the charm, community, landscape and history of a urban center," adds the president.

Mystery Polish Grapes

Back in the city, the grower is in a race against time to gather the grapevines he grew from a plant left in his garden by a Eastern European household. If the precipitation comes, then the pigeons may seize their chance to feast again. "Here we have the enigmatic Polish grape," he comments, as he cleans bruised and rotten berries from the shimmering clusters. "The variety remains uncertain what variety they are, but they're definitely hardy. Unlike noble varieties – Burgundy grapes, white wine grapes and other famous European varieties – you don't have to spray them with pesticides ... this is possibly a unique cultivar that was bred by the Soviets."

Collective Activities Throughout the City

Additional participants of the collective are also taking advantage of bright periods between bursts of autumn rain. On the terrace overlooking the city's glistening harbour, where historic trading ships once floated with casks of wine from Europe and Spain, Katy Grant is harvesting her rondo grapes from about fifty vines. "I love the aroma of the grapevines. It is so evocative," she says, pausing with a container of fruit resting on her shoulder. "It's the scent of Provence when you open the vehicle windows on vacation."

The humanitarian worker, fifty-two, who has devoted more than two decades working for humanitarian organizations in war-torn regions, inadvertently inherited the grape garden when she returned to the United Kingdom from Kenya with her household in recent years. She felt an strong responsibility to maintain the vines in the garden of their new home. "This plot has previously survived multiple proprietors," she says. "I really like the concept of environmental care – of handing this down to future caretakers so they continue producing from the soil."

Sloping Vineyards and Natural Winemaking

Nearby, the final two members of the collective are hard at work on the precipitous slopes of the local river valley. One filmmaker has cultivated more than 150 vines situated on terraces in her wild half-acre garden, which descends towards the muddy River Avon. "People are always surprised," she says, indicating the tangled grape garden. "They can't believe they are viewing grapevine lines in a city street."

Currently, the filmmaker, sixty, is harvesting bunches of dusty purple Rondo grapes from lines of plants slung across the cliff-side with the help of her daughter, her family member. Scofield, a documentary producer who has contributed to streaming service's Great National Parks series and television network's gardening shows, was motivated to plant grapes after seeing her neighbor's vines. She's discovered that amateurs can produce intriguing, enjoyable natural wine, which can sell for more than seven pounds a serving in the increasing quantity of wine bars focusing on low-processing vintages. "It's just incredibly satisfying that you can actually make quality, traditional vintage," she says. "It is quite on trend, but in reality it's resurrecting an old way of producing wine."

"During foot-stomping the grapes, the various wild yeasts are released from the surfaces and enter the juice," says the winemaker, ankle deep in a container of small branches, pips and red liquid. "That's how wines were historically produced, but industrial wineries introduce sulphur [dioxide] to kill the natural cultures and then incorporate a commercially produced yeast."

Difficult Conditions and Creative Approaches

In the immediate vicinity sprightly retiree Bob Reeve, who inspired Scofield to plant her grapevines, has gathered his friends to harvest white wine varieties from the 100 vines he has arranged precisely across multiple levels. Reeve, a Lancashire-born PE teacher who worked at the local university developed a passion for viticulture on regular visits to France. However it is a difficult task to grow this particular variety in the dampness of the gorge, with cooling tides sweeping in and out from the nearby estuary. "I wanted to produce French-style vintages here, which is somewhat ambitious," says Reeve with amusement. "Chardonnay is late to ripen and particularly vulnerable to fungal infections."

"My goal was creating European-style vintages in this environment, which is a bit bonkers"

The unpredictable Bristol climate is not the sole problem faced by winegrowers. Reeve has had to erect a fence on