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Each quarter of an hour or so, an older diesel train arrives at a spray-painted station. Nearby, a law enforcement alarm cuts through the almost continuous traffic drone. Daily travelers hurry past falling apart, ivy-draped fencing panels as rain clouds gather.

It is perhaps the least likely spot you expect to find a well-established grape-growing plot. However James Bayliss-Smith has managed to 40 mature vines heavy with round purplish grapes on a rambling allotment situated between a line of historic homes and a commuter railway just above Bristol downtown.

"I've seen people hiding illegal substances or whatever in those bushes," says the grower. "But you simply continue ... and keep tending to your vines."

The cameraman, forty-six, a filmmaker who also has a fermented beverage company, is not the only urban winemaker. He has pulled together a informal group of growers who make vintage from four hidden city grape gardens tucked away in back gardens and community plots throughout the city. It is sufficiently underground to have an official name so far, but the group's messaging chat is called Grape Expectations.

Urban Wine Gardens Around the World

To date, the grower's plot is the sole location listed in the City Vineyard Network's forthcoming world atlas, which includes more famous urban wineries such as the 1,800 plants on the hillsides of the French capital's renowned Montmartre area and over 3,000 grapevines overlooking and within Turin. Based in Italy non-profit association is at the forefront of a movement reviving city vineyards in historic wine-producing countries, but has discovered them throughout the world, including cities in East Asia, Bangladesh and Uzbekistan.

"Vineyards assist urban areas stay greener and more diverse. These spaces protect open space from construction by creating long-term, yielding agricultural units inside cities," says the organization's leader.

Similar to other vintages, those produced in urban areas are a result of the soils the vines grow in, the vagaries of the weather and the individuals who tend the fruit. "Each vintage embodies the beauty, community, environment and heritage of a city," notes the president.

Unknown Eastern European Grapes

Back in Bristol, Bayliss-Smith is in a urgent timeline to gather the vines he grew from a cutting left in his allotment by a Polish family. Should the rain arrives, then the birds may take advantage to feast again. "Here we have the mystery Polish variety," he says, as he cleans damaged and rotten grapes from the shimmering clusters. "The variety remains uncertain their exact classification, but they are certainly disease-resistant. Unlike premium grapes – Pinot Noir, white wine grapes and additional renowned European varieties – you don't have to treat them with pesticides ... this could be a unique cultivar that was developed by the Eastern Bloc."

Collective Activities Throughout the City

The other members of the collective are additionally taking advantage of bright periods between bursts of autumn rain. At a rooftop garden with views of the city's shimmering harbour, where historic trading ships once floated with barrels of vintage from France and the Iberian peninsula, one cultivator is collecting her rondo grapes from about 50 vines. "I love the smell of the grapevines. It is so reminiscent," she says, pausing with a basket of fruit resting on her shoulder. "It's the scent of Provence when you open the car windows on vacation."

Grant, fifty-two, who has devoted more than 20 years working for charitable groups in conflict zones, unexpectedly inherited the vineyard when she moved back to the United Kingdom from Kenya with her household in recent years. She felt an overwhelming duty to maintain the grapevines in the garden of their recently acquired property. "This vineyard has previously survived multiple proprietors," she says. "I deeply appreciate the idea of natural stewardship – of passing this on to future caretakers so they keep cultivating from this land."

Sloping Gardens and Natural Production

A short walk away, the final two members of the group are hard at work on the steep inclines of Avon Gorge. Jo Scofield has established more than 150 plants situated on ledges in her wild half-acre garden, which tumbles down towards the muddy River Avon. "Visitors frequently express amazement," she notes, indicating the interwoven grape garden. "They can't believe they are viewing grapevine lines in a city street."

Today, the filmmaker, 60, is harvesting bunches of deep violet Rondo grapes from rows of vines arranged along the cliff-side with the assistance of her child, Luca. Scofield, a wildlife and conservation film-maker who has worked on Netflix's nature programming and television network's gardening shows, was motivated to cultivate vines after observing her neighbour's vines. She has learned that amateurs can make interesting, enjoyable traditional vintage, which can sell for upwards of seven pounds a glass in the increasing quantity of establishments focusing on minimal-intervention vintages. "It's just incredibly satisfying that you can truly create good, traditional vintage," she states. "It's very fashionable, but in reality it's resurrecting an traditional method of making wine."

"During foot-stomping the grapes, the various natural microorganisms come off the skins and enter the juice," says the winemaker, partially submerged in a container of tiny stems, seeds and crimson juice. "This represents how vintages were historically produced, but industrial wineries introduce sulphur [dioxide] to eliminate the wild yeast and subsequently add a lab-grown yeast."

Challenging Environments and Inventive Approaches

A few doors down active senior Bob Reeve, who inspired Scofield to establish her vines, has gathered his companions to harvest Chardonnay grapes from the 100 vines he has laid out neatly across multiple levels. Reeve, a northern English physical education instructor who taught at the local university cultivated an interest in viticulture on annual sporting trips to France. However it is a difficult task to cultivate Chardonnay grapes in the humidity of the valley, with temperature fluctuations sweeping in and out from the nearby estuary. "I aimed to make French-style vintages here, which is somewhat ambitious," says the retiree with a smile. "Chardonnay is slow-maturing 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 grape cultivators. Reeve has had to erect a fence on