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Each 20 minutes or so, an older diesel train arrives at a spray-painted stop. Nearby, a law enforcement alarm pierces the almost continuous traffic drone. Commuters hurry past falling apart, ivy-draped garden fences as rain clouds gather.

This is maybe the last place you anticipate to find a well-established vineyard. But James Bayliss-Smith has cultivated four dozen established plants sagging with plump purplish berries on a rambling garden plot sandwiched between a row of 1930s houses and a local rail line just north of the city town centre.

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

The cameraman, 46, a documentary cameraman who also has a fermented beverage company, is among several local vintner. He's pulled together a informal group of cultivators who produce wine from several discreet city grape gardens tucked away in back gardens and allotments across the city. It is too clandestine to possess an formal title yet, but the collective's WhatsApp group is called Grape Expectations.

City Vineyards Across the Globe

So far, the grower's allotment is the sole location listed in the Urban Vineyards Association's upcoming global directory, which features more famous city vineyards such as the eighteen hundred plants on the slopes of Paris's renowned Montmartre neighbourhood and over 3,000 vines with views of and within the Italian city. The Italian-based non-profit association is at the vanguard of a initiative reviving city vineyards in traditional winemaking countries, but has discovered them all over the globe, including urban centers in Japan, Bangladesh and Uzbekistan.

"Vineyards help cities remain greener and more diverse. These spaces protect open space from construction by establishing permanent, productive agricultural units inside urban environments," explains the organization's leader.

Like all wines, those produced in urban areas are a product of the soils the vines thrive in, the vagaries of the weather and the individuals who care for the fruit. "A bottle of wine embodies the charm, community, landscape and history of a urban center," notes the president.

Mystery Eastern European Variety

Back in the city, the grower is in a urgent timeline to gather the grapevines he cultivated from a plant abandoned in his garden by a Eastern European household. If the rain comes, then the birds may take advantage to feast again. "Here we have the enigmatic Polish grape," he says, as he cleans damaged and rotten berries from the glistering bunches. "The variety remains uncertain their exact classification, but they are certainly disease-resistant. Unlike premium grapes – Pinot Noir, Chardonnay and other famous European varieties – you need not spray them with pesticides ... this is possibly a unique cultivar that was developed by the Soviets."

Collective Efforts Throughout the City

The other members of the group are additionally taking advantage of bright periods between showers of fall precipitation. At a rooftop garden overlooking the city's shimmering harbour, where medieval merchant vessels once bobbed with casks of vintage from Europe and the Iberian peninsula, one cultivator is collecting her rondo grapes from about fifty vines. "I adore the aroma of these vines. The scent is so reminiscent," she remarks, pausing with a basket of grapes resting on her arm. "It recalls the fragrance of southern France when you roll down the vehicle windows on holiday."

Grant, fifty-two, who has spent over two decades working for humanitarian organizations in war-torn regions, unexpectedly took over the grape garden when she moved back to the UK from Kenya with her household in recent years. She felt an overwhelming duty to look after the vines in the yard of their recently acquired property. "This plot has previously endured three different owners," she explains. "I really like the idea of natural stewardship – of passing this on to future caretakers so they keep cultivating from this land."

Terraced Vineyards and Natural Production

Nearby, the remaining cultivators of the collective are hard at work on the steep inclines of Avon Gorge. Jo Scofield has established more than one hundred fifty vines perched on ledges in her wild half-acre garden, which descends towards the muddy local waterway. "People are always surprised," she says, gesturing towards the tangled vineyard. "They can't believe they are viewing rows of vines in a city street."

Today, the filmmaker, 60, is harvesting clusters of deep violet Rondo grapes from rows of plants slung across the hillside with the assistance of her daughter, her family member. The conservationist, a documentary producer who has contributed to Netflix's Great National Parks series and BBC Two's gardening shows, was motivated to plant grapes after seeing her neighbour's grapevines. She has learned that hobbyists can make intriguing, enjoyable traditional vintage, which can sell for upwards of seven pounds a glass in the increasing quantity of establishments specialising in minimal-intervention wines. "It's just incredibly satisfying that you can actually create good, natural wine," she states. "It's very on trend, but really it's resurrecting an old way of producing vintage."

"When I tread the grapes, all the wild yeasts are released from the surfaces into the juice," says the winemaker, ankle deep in a container of tiny stems, pips and red liquid. "That's how wines were made traditionally, but industrial wineries add sulphur [dioxide] to kill the natural cultures and then incorporate a lab-grown culture."

Challenging Conditions and Inventive Approaches

A few doors down sprightly retiree Bob Reeve, who motivated Scofield to plant her vines, has gathered his friends to pick Chardonnay grapes from one hundred plants he has laid out neatly across multiple levels. The former teacher, a northern English PE teacher who worked at Bristol University developed a passion for viticulture on annual sporting trips to France. However it is a challenge to grow this particular variety in the humidity of the gorge, with temperature fluctuations sweeping in and out from the Bristol Channel. "I aimed to produce Burgundian wines in this location, which is a bit bonkers," says Reeve with amusement. "Chardonnay is late to ripen and very sensitive to mildew."

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

The temperamental local weather is not the only challenge encountered by grape cultivators. The gardener has been compelled to install a barrier on