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Each quarter of an hour or so, an ageing diesel train arrives at a graffiti-covered station. Nearby, a police siren pierces the almost continuous road noise. Daily travelers rush by collapsing, ivy-covered garden fences as rain clouds form.

This is perhaps the last place you anticipate to find a perfectly formed grape-growing plot. But James Bayliss-Smith has cultivated four dozen established plants heavy with round purplish berries on a sprawling allotment situated between a row of 1930s houses and a commuter railway just north of Bristol town centre.

"I've seen people concealing heroin or other items in the shrubbery," states Bayliss-Smith. "Yet you simply continue ... and keep tending to your grapevines."

The cameraman, 46, a filmmaker who also has a fermented beverage company, is among several urban winemaker. He's pulled together a loose collective of growers who make vintage from four hidden city grape gardens nestled in back gardens and allotments across the city. It is too clandestine to possess an official name yet, but the collective's WhatsApp group is called Grape Expectations.

Urban Vineyards Around the World

So far, Bayliss-Smith's allotment is the only one registered in the Urban Vineyards Association's upcoming world atlas, which features more famous city vineyards such as the 1,800 plants on the slopes of the French capital's renowned Montmartre neighbourhood and more than three thousand grapevines overlooking and inside Turin. Based in Italy charitable organization is at the vanguard of a movement reviving urban grape cultivation in historic wine-producing nations, but has identified them all over the globe, including urban centers in East Asia, South Asia and Central Asia.

"Grape gardens help cities stay greener and more diverse. They preserve land from development by creating permanent, yielding farming plots inside cities," explains the organization's leader.

Similar to other vintages, those produced in urban areas are a result of the soils the vines thrive in, the vagaries of the weather and the individuals who tend the fruit. "A bottle of wine represents the charm, community, landscape and history of a urban center," adds the president.

Unknown Eastern European Variety

Returning to the city, Bayliss-Smith is in a race against time to harvest the vines he grew from a cutting abandoned in his garden by a Eastern European household. If the precipitation arrives, then the birds may seize their chance to feast again. "Here we have the enigmatic Eastern European variety," he says, as he cleans damaged and rotten berries from the glistering bunches. "We don't really know their exact classification, but they are certainly hardy. Unlike noble varieties – Pinot Noir, Chardonnay and other famous French grapes – you need not spray them with pesticides ... this is possibly a special variety that was developed by the Soviets."

Collective Activities Across Bristol

Additional participants of the collective are also making the most of bright periods between bursts of autumn rain. On the terrace with views of Bristol's glistening harbour, where historic trading ships once floated with casks of wine from France and Spain, Katy Grant is harvesting her dark berries from approximately fifty vines. "I adore the smell of the grapevines. It is so evocative," she says, stopping with a container of fruit slung over her arm. "It recalls the fragrance of Provence when you roll down the car windows on holiday."

Grant, 52, who has spent over two decades working for charitable groups in conflict zones, unexpectedly took over the vineyard when she moved back to the United Kingdom from Kenya with her family in recent years. She experienced an strong responsibility to look after the vines in the garden of their recently acquired property. "This vineyard has previously endured multiple proprietors," she explains. "I deeply appreciate the idea of environmental care – of handing this down to future caretakers so they can continue producing from the soil."

Terraced Gardens and Traditional Winemaking

Nearby, the final two members of the collective are busily laboring on the steep inclines of Avon Gorge. Jo Scofield has established over one hundred fifty vines perched on ledges in her expansive property, which descends towards the muddy local waterway. "Visitors frequently express amazement," she says, indicating the tangled vineyard. "They can't believe they are viewing rows of vines in a city street."

Currently, Scofield, sixty, is picking clusters of dusty purple dark berries from rows of vines arranged along the cliff-side with the help of her daughter, Luca. The conservationist, a documentary producer who has contributed to streaming service's Great National Parks series and BBC Two's gardening shows, was motivated to cultivate vines after observing her neighbor's vines. She's discovered that amateurs can make interesting, enjoyable natural wine, which can command prices of more than seven pounds a glass in the growing number of wine bars focusing on minimal-intervention wines. "It's just incredibly satisfying that you can truly create quality, natural wine," she says. "It is quite on trend, but really it's resurrecting an old way of making vintage."

"During foot-stomping the grapes, all the natural microorganisms come off the skins and enter the juice," explains the winemaker, ankle deep in a container of small branches, seeds and crimson juice. "That's how wines were made traditionally, but commercial producers add sulphur [dioxide] to kill the natural cultures and subsequently incorporate a commercially produced yeast."

Challenging Environments and Inventive Approaches

A few doors down active senior Bob Reeve, who motivated his neighbor to plant her grapevines, has gathered his friends to harvest Chardonnay grapes from the 100 vines he has laid out neatly across multiple levels. The former teacher, a Lancashire-born physical education instructor who worked at the local university developed a passion for viticulture on annual sporting trips to France. However it is a challenge to cultivate this particular variety in the dampness of the gorge, with cooling tides sweeping in and out from the Bristol Channel. "I wanted to produce Burgundian wines here, which is a bit bonkers," admits Reeve with a smile. "This variety is slow-maturing and very sensitive to mildew."

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

The unpredictable local weather is not the sole challenge faced by grape cultivators. Reeve has had to erect a barrier on