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Each 20 minutes or so, an older diesel train arrives at a spray-painted stop. Close by, a police siren cuts through the near-constant traffic drone. Daily travelers hurry past falling apart, ivy-draped garden fences as rain clouds gather.

This is perhaps the last place you expect to find a well-established grape-growing plot. However James Bayliss-Smith has cultivated four dozen established plants sagging with round mauve berries on a sprawling allotment situated between a line of 1930s houses and a commuter railway just above the city downtown.

"I've noticed individuals hiding heroin or whatever in the shrubbery," says the grower. "Yet you simply continue ... and keep tending to your vines."

The cameraman, 46, a documentary cameraman who also has a fermented beverage company, is among several local vintner. He has organized a informal group of cultivators who make wine from several discreet urban vineyards tucked away in back gardens and community plots throughout Bristol. It is sufficiently underground to possess an formal title yet, but the collective's messaging chat is named Vineyard Dreams.

Urban Wine Gardens Across the Globe

To date, Bayliss-Smith's plot is the sole location registered in the Urban Vineyards Association's forthcoming world atlas, which includes better-known urban wineries such as the eighteen hundred vines on the slopes of the French capital's renowned artistic district area and over 3,000 grapevines with views of and within the Italian city. Based in Italy non-profit association is at the forefront of a movement re-establishing city vineyards in historic wine-producing countries, but has identified them all over the world, including cities in East Asia, South Asia and Central Asia.

"Vineyards help cities remain more eco-friendly and ecologically varied. These spaces protect open space from construction by creating long-term, productive farming plots within cities," says the association's president.

Like all wines, those produced in cities are a product of the earth the plants grow in, the unpredictability of the weather and the individuals who care for the grapes. "Each vintage embodies the beauty, community, landscape and heritage of a city," notes the president.

Unknown Eastern European Grapes

Returning to Bristol, Bayliss-Smith is in a race against time to harvest the vines he cultivated from a cutting abandoned in his allotment by a Eastern European household. Should the rain arrives, then the pigeons may seize their chance to feast once more. "Here we have the mystery Polish grape," he says, as he cleans damaged and mouldy berries from the glistering clusters. "The variety remains uncertain what variety they are, but they are certainly hardy. In contrast to premium grapes – Burgundy grapes, Chardonnay and other famous French grapes – you don't have to spray them with chemicals ... this could be a unique cultivar that was bred by the Eastern Bloc."

Group Activities Across Bristol

The other members of the group are also taking advantage of bright periods between bursts of autumn rain. At a rooftop garden overlooking the city's shimmering harbour, where medieval merchant vessels once floated with casks of wine from Europe and the Iberian peninsula, Katy Grant is harvesting her rondo grapes from approximately 50 plants. "I love the aroma of these vines. It is so evocative," she says, pausing with a basket of fruit slung over her shoulder. "It's the scent of southern France when you roll down the vehicle windows on vacation."

Grant, fifty-two, who has spent over 20 years working for humanitarian organizations in conflict zones, unexpectedly inherited the vineyard when she moved back to the UK from East Africa with her family in recent years. She experienced an overwhelming duty to look after the grapevines in the garden of their recently acquired property. "This vineyard has already endured three different owners," she says. "I deeply appreciate the concept of environmental care – of passing this on to someone else so they keep cultivating from the soil."

Sloping Gardens and Traditional Production

A short walk away, the final two members of the collective are hard at work on the steep inclines of Avon Gorge. Jo Scofield has established over 150 plants situated on terraces in her wild half-acre garden, which descends towards the silty River Avon. "Visitors frequently express amazement," she notes, gesturing towards the tangled grape garden. "They can't believe they can see grapevine lines in a city street."

Currently, Scofield, 60, is harvesting clusters of dusty purple Rondo grapes from rows of vines slung across the cliff-side with the help of her child, Luca. Scofield, a documentary producer who has worked on streaming service's Great National Parks series and television network's gardening shows, was motivated to plant grapes after observing her neighbor's grapevines. She's discovered that amateurs can make intriguing, pleasurable natural wine, which can sell for more than £7 a serving in the increasing quantity of wine bars specialising in minimal-intervention wines. "It is incredibly satisfying that you can actually create good, traditional vintage," she says. "It's very fashionable, but really it's resurrecting an old way of producing wine."

"During foot-stomping the grapes, all the wild yeasts come off the skins and enter the juice," says the winemaker, ankle deep in a container of tiny stems, 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 lab-grown culture."

Challenging Environments and Inventive Approaches

In the immediate vicinity active senior Bob Reeve, who motivated his neighbor to plant her grapevines, has assembled his companions to pick white wine varieties from the 100 plants he has laid out neatly across multiple levels. The former teacher, a northern English PE teacher who taught at Bristol University cultivated an interest in viticulture on regular visits to France. But it is a challenge to cultivate 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 somewhat ambitious," says Reeve with amusement. "Chardonnay is slow-maturing and very sensitive to fungal infections."

"My goal was creating European-style vintages in this environment, which is a bit bonkers"

The temperamental local weather is not the only problem encountered by winegrowers. Reeve has been compelled to install a barrier on