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Each 20 minutes or so, an ageing diesel train pulls into a spray-painted stop. Close by, a law enforcement alarm pierces the near-constant traffic drone. Commuters hurry past falling apart, ivy-draped fencing panels as storm clouds form.

It is maybe the last place you expect to find a well-established grape-growing plot. But one local grower has managed to four dozen established plants sagging with plump mauve grapes on a sprawling garden plot situated between a line of historic homes and a local rail line just north of the city downtown.

"I've noticed people concealing illegal substances or other items in the shrubbery," states the grower. "But you simply continue ... and continue caring for your grapevines."

The cameraman, 46, a documentary cameraman who runs a fermented beverage company, is among several local vintner. He's organized a loose collective of growers who make wine from several hidden urban vineyards nestled in private yards and community plots across the city. It is too clandestine to have an official name so far, but the collective's messaging chat is called Vineyard Dreams.

Urban Vineyards Around the World

To date, Bayliss-Smith's plot is the only one registered in the City Vineyard Network's forthcoming global directory, which includes better-known city vineyards such as the 1,800 plants on the slopes of the French capital's historic artistic district neighbourhood and over 3,000 vines overlooking and inside the Italian city. The Italian-based charitable organization is at the vanguard of a initiative re-establishing city vineyards in historic wine-producing countries, but has identified them throughout the world, including urban centers in East Asia, South Asia and Central Asia.

"Grape gardens help cities stay more eco-friendly and ecologically varied. These spaces preserve land from development by creating long-term, productive farming plots within cities," says the association's president.

Similar to other vintages, those created in urban areas are a result of the earth the plants thrive in, the vagaries of the climate and the people who care for the fruit. "Each vintage embodies the charm, local spirit, landscape and history of a city," notes the president.

Unknown Eastern European Variety

Back in the city, the grower is in a urgent timeline to harvest the grapevines he cultivated from a cutting abandoned in his garden by a Eastern European household. Should the rain arrives, then the pigeons may seize their chance to attack again. "This is the mystery Eastern European grape," he says, as he removes damaged and mouldy berries from the shimmering bunches. "We don't really know what variety they are, but they're definitely hardy. In contrast to premium grapes – Pinot Noir, Chardonnay and additional renowned European varieties – you need not spray them with pesticides ... this is possibly a unique cultivar that was bred by the Soviets."

Collective Activities Across Bristol

Additional participants of the group are additionally making the most of bright periods between bursts of autumn rain. At a rooftop garden overlooking the city's shimmering waterfront, where historic trading ships once floated with casks of wine from Europe and the Iberian peninsula, Katy Grant is collecting her dark berries from approximately 50 plants. "I love the smell of these vines. The scent is so evocative," she says, stopping with a basket of fruit resting on her arm. "It's the scent of Provence when you open the car windows on holiday."

The humanitarian worker, 52, who has spent over two decades working for humanitarian organizations in war-torn regions, unexpectedly inherited the vineyard when she moved back to the UK from East Africa with her household in recent years. She experienced an overwhelming duty to maintain the vines in the garden of their recently acquired property. "This vineyard has already endured multiple proprietors," she explains. "I deeply appreciate the concept of natural stewardship – of handing this down to someone else so they keep cultivating from this land."

Terraced Gardens and Natural Production

Nearby, the final two members of the collective are busily laboring on the steep inclines of the local river valley. Jo Scofield has cultivated over one hundred fifty plants perched on ledges in her wild half-acre garden, which descends towards the muddy River Avon. "People are always surprised," she says, indicating the tangled vineyard. "They can't believe they are viewing grapevine lines in a urban neighborhood."

Today, the filmmaker, 60, is picking bunches of deep violet Rondo grapes from rows of plants slung across the cliff-side with the assistance of her daughter, her family member. Scofield, a wildlife and conservation film-maker who has worked on streaming service's nature programming and BBC Two's Gardeners' World, was inspired to cultivate vines after observing her neighbour's grapevines. She has learned that amateurs can make intriguing, enjoyable traditional vintage, which can sell for more than seven pounds a glass in the growing number of establishments specialising in minimal-intervention vintages. "It is incredibly satisfying that you can actually make quality, traditional vintage," she says. "It is quite on trend, but in reality it's reviving an old way of producing wine."

"During foot-stomping the grapes, the various wild yeasts are released from the skins and enter the juice," explains the winemaker, ankle deep in a container of tiny stems, pips and crimson juice. "This represents how vintages were historically produced, but industrial wineries add sulphur [dioxide] to eliminate the natural cultures and subsequently incorporate a lab-grown culture."

Challenging Conditions and Creative Approaches

In the immediate vicinity sprightly retiree Bob Reeve, who inspired his neighbor to plant her vines, has gathered his companions to harvest white wine varieties from one hundred plants he has arranged precisely across two terraces. The former teacher, a Lancashire-born physical education instructor who taught at the local university developed a passion for viticulture on annual sporting trips to France. However it is a difficult task to grow Chardonnay grapes in the humidity of the gorge, with cooling tides moving through from the Bristol Channel. "I aimed to produce Burgundian wines here, which is somewhat ambitious," says Reeve with amusement. "This variety is slow-maturing and particularly vulnerable to mildew."

"I wanted to make Burgundian wines here, which is rather ambitious"

The temperamental local weather is not the sole challenge encountered by grape cultivators. Reeve has had to install a barrier on