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Each quarter of an hour or so, an older diesel railway carriage pulls into a spray-painted station. Close by, a law enforcement alarm cuts through the almost continuous traffic drone. Daily travelers rush by falling apart, ivy-covered garden fences as storm clouds gather.

This is maybe the least likely spot you expect to find a perfectly formed grape-growing plot. However one local grower has cultivated four dozen established plants sagging with round purplish grapes on a rambling allotment sandwiched between a row of 1930s houses and a commuter railway just above Bristol downtown.

"I've seen people concealing illegal substances or whatever in the shrubbery," says the grower. "But you just get on with it ... and keep tending to your vines."

The cameraman, 46, a filmmaker who runs a kombucha drinks business, is among several local vintner. He's organized a loose collective of cultivators who produce vintage from four discreet urban vineyards nestled in private yards and allotments throughout Bristol. The project is too clandestine to have an formal title so far, but the collective's WhatsApp group is called Grape Expectations.

City Vineyards Across the World

To date, Bayliss-Smith's allotment is the only one listed in the Urban Vineyards Association's upcoming global directory, which features better-known urban wineries such as the 1,800 vines on the slopes of Paris's historic artistic district neighbourhood and over 3,000 grapevines overlooking and within the Italian city. The Italian-based non-profit association is at the vanguard of a movement reviving city vineyards in historic wine-producing countries, but has identified them throughout the globe, including cities in Japan, Bangladesh and Uzbekistan.

"Grape gardens assist urban areas remain more eco-friendly and ecologically varied. They preserve land from construction by creating long-term, yielding farming plots within cities," explains the organization's leader.

Similar to other vintages, those produced in cities are a product of the soils the plants grow in, the unpredictability of the weather and the individuals who tend the grapes. "A bottle of wine embodies the beauty, local spirit, environment and heritage of a city," adds the president.

Mystery Eastern European Variety

Back in the city, Bayliss-Smith is in a race against time to gather the grapevines he cultivated from a cutting abandoned in his allotment by a Eastern European household. If the precipitation arrives, then the pigeons may seize their chance to feast once more. "Here we have the mystery Polish grape," he comments, as he cleans bruised and rotten grapes from the glistering clusters. "The variety remains uncertain their exact classification, but they're definitely hardy. In contrast to premium grapes – Burgundy grapes, white wine grapes and other famous European varieties – you need not spray them with pesticides ... this is possibly a unique cultivar that was developed by the Soviets."

Group Activities Across the City

The other members of the collective are also making the most of bright periods between bursts of fall precipitation. On the terrace with views of the city's shimmering waterfront, where historic trading ships once floated with casks of vintage from Europe and Spain, Katy Grant is harvesting her dark berries from approximately fifty vines. "I love the smell of these vines. It is so evocative," she remarks, stopping with a basket of fruit slung over her arm. "It recalls the fragrance of Provence when you open the vehicle windows on vacation."

The humanitarian worker, fifty-two, who has spent over 20 years working for charitable groups in war-torn regions, unexpectedly inherited the vineyard when she returned to the United Kingdom from East Africa with her family in recent years. She felt an overwhelming duty to maintain the grapevines in the garden of their new home. "This vineyard has previously survived three different owners," she says. "I deeply appreciate the concept of natural stewardship – of handing this down to future caretakers so they continue producing from the soil."

Sloping Gardens and Natural Winemaking

Nearby, the remaining cultivators of the group are busily laboring on the steep inclines of Avon Gorge. Jo Scofield has established more than 150 plants perched on terraces in her expansive property, which descends towards the muddy River Avon. "People are always surprised," she says, gesturing towards the tangled vineyard. "It's astonishing to them they can see rows of vines in a city street."

Currently, the filmmaker, 60, is picking clusters of deep violet Rondo grapes from rows of vines arranged along the hillside with the help of her child, her family member. Scofield, a documentary producer who has contributed to Netflix's nature programming and BBC Two's gardening shows, was motivated to cultivate vines after observing her neighbour's grapevines. She has learned that hobbyists can produce intriguing, enjoyable traditional vintage, which can sell for more than £7 a glass in the increasing quantity of establishments specialising in low-processing vintages. "It is incredibly satisfying that you can actually make quality, traditional vintage," she states. "It is quite fashionable, but in reality it's resurrecting an old way of making vintage."

"When I tread the fruit, all the natural microorganisms come off the skins and enter the juice," says Scofield, partially submerged in a bucket of small branches, pips and crimson juice. "That's how wines were historically produced, but commercial producers add sulphur [dioxide] to kill the natural cultures and then incorporate a lab-grown yeast."

Difficult Conditions and Creative Solutions

In the immediate vicinity sprightly retiree Bob Reeve, who inspired Scofield to establish her grapevines, has gathered his friends to pick Chardonnay grapes from the 100 plants he has laid out neatly across two terraces. Reeve, a northern English PE teacher who worked at the local university cultivated an interest in wine on annual sporting trips to Europe. But it is a challenge to cultivate Chardonnay grapes in the dampness of the gorge, with temperature fluctuations sweeping in and out from the Bristol Channel. "I aimed to make French-style vintages here, which is a bit bonkers," admits the retiree with amusement. "This variety is slow-maturing and very sensitive to fungal infections."

"I wanted to make Burgundian wines here, which is a bit bonkers"

The temperamental local weather is not the sole challenge encountered by winegrowers. The gardener has had to erect a barrier on