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Every 20 minutes or so, an ageing diesel-powered railway carriage arrives at a graffiti-covered station. Close by, a law enforcement alarm pierces the almost continuous traffic drone. Commuters rush by collapsing, ivy-covered fencing panels as rain clouds gather.

This is perhaps the last place you anticipate to find a well-established grape-growing plot. However James Bayliss-Smith has cultivated 40 mature vines sagging with plump purplish grapes on a rambling garden plot situated between a line of historic homes and a commuter railway just above Bristol town centre.

"I've noticed individuals hiding heroin or whatever in the shrubbery," states Bayliss-Smith. "Yet you just get on with it ... and keep tending to your grapevines."

The cameraman, 46, a documentary cameraman who runs a fermented beverage company, is not the only local vintner. He's organized a informal group of cultivators who produce vintage from several hidden urban vineyards tucked away in back gardens and community plots throughout the city. It is too clandestine to have an formal title yet, but the collective's messaging chat is named Grape Expectations.

City Wine Gardens Across the World

To date, Bayliss-Smith's plot is the only one registered in the City Vineyard Network's upcoming world atlas, which features more famous city vineyards such as the 1,800 vines on the slopes of Paris's historic artistic district neighbourhood and more than 3,000 vines with views of and within Turin. Based in Italy non-profit association is at the forefront of a movement re-establishing urban grape cultivation in historic wine-producing nations, but has identified them all over the world, including urban centers in East Asia, Bangladesh and Central Asia.

"Grape gardens help urban areas remain greener and ecologically varied. These spaces protect land from development by establishing long-term, yielding agricultural units within cities," says the association's president.

Similar to other vintages, those produced in urban areas are a result of the soils the plants grow in, the vagaries of the climate and the individuals who tend the grapes. "A bottle of wine embodies the charm, local spirit, landscape and history of a city," adds the spokesperson.

Unknown Eastern European Variety

Back in the city, the grower is in a urgent timeline to gather the vines he cultivated from a cutting left in his garden by a Eastern European household. Should the precipitation comes, then the birds may take advantage to attack once more. "This is the mystery Polish grape," he says, as he cleans damaged and mouldy grapes from the shimmering bunches. "We don't really know what variety they are, but they are certainly disease-resistant. Unlike noble varieties – Pinot Noir, white wine grapes and additional renowned European varieties – you don't have to treat them with chemicals ... 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 also making the most of bright periods between showers of autumn rain. On the terrace overlooking the city's shimmering harbour, where historic trading ships once bobbed with barrels of vintage from France and Spain, Katy Grant is collecting her rondo grapes from about 50 plants. "I love the aroma of the grapevines. The scent is so evocative," she remarks, stopping with a basket of grapes slung over her shoulder. "It's the scent 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, inadvertently inherited the vineyard when she returned to the UK from Kenya with her family in recent years. She experienced an strong responsibility to maintain the vines in the garden of their recently acquired property. "This plot has already endured three different owners," she explains. "I deeply appreciate the idea of environmental care – of passing this on to future caretakers so they keep cultivating from the soil."

Sloping Gardens and Natural Winemaking

Nearby, the remaining cultivators of the collective are busily laboring on the precipitous slopes of Avon Gorge. One filmmaker has cultivated over 150 plants situated on terraces in her wild half-acre garden, which descends towards the muddy local waterway. "People are always surprised," she notes, indicating the interwoven vineyard. "It's astonishing to them they are viewing grapevine lines in a city street."

Currently, Scofield, 60, is harvesting bunches of deep violet Rondo grapes from rows of vines slung across the cliff-side with the help of her daughter, her family member. The conservationist, a documentary producer who has contributed to Netflix's nature programming and television network's Gardeners' World, was inspired to cultivate vines after observing her neighbour's grapevines. She's discovered that hobbyists can produce intriguing, pleasurable traditional vintage, which can command prices of upwards of seven pounds a serving in the increasing quantity of wine bars focusing on minimal-intervention vintages. "It is incredibly satisfying that you can actually create quality, traditional vintage," she states. "It is quite on trend, but really it's resurrecting an old way of producing vintage."

"During foot-stomping the fruit, all the wild yeasts are released from the surfaces and enter the juice," says Scofield, partially submerged in a bucket of small branches, seeds and red liquid. "That's how wines were historically produced, but commercial producers add sulphur [dioxide] to kill the wild yeast and subsequently incorporate a lab-grown culture."

Difficult Conditions and Creative Solutions

A few doors down sprightly retiree another cultivator, who motivated his neighbor to plant her vines, has assembled his friends to harvest Chardonnay grapes from one hundred plants he has laid out neatly across two terraces. The former teacher, a Lancashire-born PE teacher who worked at Bristol University developed a passion for wine on regular visits to France. But it is a difficult task to grow Chardonnay grapes in the dampness of the valley, with temperature fluctuations sweeping in and out from the Bristol Channel. "I aimed to produce Burgundian wines here, which is a bit bonkers," admits Reeve with a smile. "Chardonnay is slow-maturing and particularly vulnerable to mildew."

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

The unpredictable Bristol climate is not the sole problem encountered by winegrowers. Reeve has been compelled to install a fence on