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Every quarter of an hour or so, an older diesel-powered railway carriage arrives at a graffiti-covered station. Nearby, a law enforcement alarm cuts through the near-constant traffic drone. Commuters rush by collapsing, ivy-covered garden fences as storm clouds form.

This is perhaps the last place you anticipate to find a well-established vineyard. However one local grower has managed to 40 mature vines heavy with plump purplish grapes on a sprawling allotment sandwiched between a line of 1930s houses and a local rail line just north of the city town centre.

"I've noticed individuals hiding heroin or whatever in those bushes," says Bayliss-Smith. "Yet you simply continue ... and keep tending to your vines."

The cameraman, 46, a documentary cameraman who runs a kombucha drinks business, is not the only local vintner. He has pulled together a loose collective of growers who produce wine from several hidden urban vineyards tucked away in back gardens and allotments throughout Bristol. The project is too clandestine to possess an formal title yet, but the group's messaging chat is named Vineyard Dreams.

City Vineyards Around the Globe

So far, Bayliss-Smith's plot is the only one registered in the City Vineyard Network's forthcoming global directory, which features better-known urban wineries such as the 1,800 vines on the hillsides of the French capital's historic artistic district neighbourhood and more than 3,000 vines overlooking and within Turin. Based in Italy charitable organization is at the forefront of a movement re-establishing urban grape cultivation in traditional winemaking countries, but has identified them all over the globe, including urban centers in East Asia, Bangladesh and Central Asia.

"Grape gardens help cities stay more eco-friendly and ecologically varied. These spaces protect open space from development by establishing permanent, productive farming plots inside cities," explains the organization's leader.

Like all wines, those produced in cities are a product of the soils the vines grow in, the vagaries of the climate and the individuals who tend the fruit. "Each vintage embodies the charm, community, environment and heritage of a urban center," adds the spokesperson.

Mystery Eastern European Variety

Returning to the city, the grower is in a urgent timeline to gather the grapevines he grew from a cutting abandoned in his allotment by a Polish family. Should the precipitation arrives, then the birds may take advantage to attack again. "Here we have the mystery Polish grape," he says, as he removes bruised and rotten berries from the glistering clusters. "We don't really know their exact classification, but they are certainly disease-resistant. In contrast to noble varieties – Burgundy grapes, white wine grapes and additional renowned European varieties – you don't have to treat them with chemicals ... this could be a special variety that was developed by the Soviets."

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 Bristol's glistening harbour, where medieval merchant vessels once floated with barrels of vintage from France and the Iberian peninsula, Katy Grant is collecting her dark berries from about 50 plants. "I adore the smell of the grapevines. It is so reminiscent," she says, pausing with a basket of grapes resting on her arm. "It recalls the fragrance of southern France when you roll down the car windows on holiday."

Grant, fifty-two, who has devoted more than 20 years working for humanitarian organizations in conflict zones, unexpectedly took over the grape garden when she returned to the United Kingdom from East Africa with her household in recent years. She felt an strong responsibility to maintain the vines in the yard of their recently acquired property. "This vineyard has previously endured three different owners," she says. "I really like the idea of environmental care – of handing this down to someone else so they keep cultivating from the soil."

Sloping Vineyards and Natural Winemaking

A short walk away, the remaining cultivators of the group are busily laboring on the steep inclines of Avon Gorge. One filmmaker has cultivated over 150 plants situated on ledges in her wild half-acre garden, which descends towards the silty River Avon. "Visitors frequently express amazement," she says, gesturing towards the tangled grape garden. "It's astonishing to them they can see grapevine lines in a city street."

Currently, Scofield, 60, is picking bunches of deep violet Rondo grapes from rows 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 nature programming and BBC Two's Gardeners' World, was motivated to cultivate vines after observing her neighbor's grapevines. She has learned that hobbyists can make interesting, enjoyable natural wine, which can command prices of more than seven pounds a glass in the increasing quantity of establishments focusing on minimal-intervention wines. "It's just incredibly satisfying that you can truly make good, natural wine," she states. "It's very on trend, but really it's reviving an old way of producing vintage."

"During foot-stomping the fruit, all the wild yeasts are released from the skins into the juice," explains the winemaker, partially submerged in a container of small branches, pips and crimson juice. "This represents how wines were made traditionally, but commercial producers add preservatives to kill the natural cultures and subsequently incorporate a commercially produced culture."

Difficult Environments and Inventive Approaches

A few doors down sprightly retiree another cultivator, who motivated Scofield to plant her grapevines, has assembled his companions to harvest Chardonnay grapes from one hundred plants he has arranged precisely across multiple levels. The former teacher, a Lancashire-born physical education instructor who taught 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 humidity of the valley, with cooling tides moving through from the Bristol Channel. "I wanted to make French-style vintages in this location, which is somewhat ambitious," says Reeve with a smile. "This variety is late to ripen and very sensitive to mildew."

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

The unpredictable local weather is not the only problem faced by winegrowers. The gardener has been compelled to install a fence on