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Each quarter of an hour or so, an ageing diesel-powered train arrives at a graffiti-covered stop. Nearby, a law enforcement alarm pierces the almost continuous road noise. Commuters rush by collapsing, ivy-covered garden fences as rain clouds form.

It is perhaps the last place you expect to find a perfectly formed vineyard. However James Bayliss-Smith has cultivated 40 mature vines heavy with round purplish berries on a rambling allotment sandwiched between a row of 1930s houses and a local rail line just above Bristol town centre.

"I've noticed individuals hiding heroin or whatever in the shrubbery," says Bayliss-Smith. "But you just get on with it ... and continue caring for your vines."

Bayliss-Smith, 46, a documentary cameraman who runs a kombucha drinks business, is among several local vintner. He's pulled together a loose collective of cultivators who produce wine from four hidden city grape gardens nestled in private yards and allotments throughout the city. It is too clandestine to possess an formal title yet, but the group's messaging chat is named Grape Expectations.

City Vineyards Around the World

To date, Bayliss-Smith's plot is the only one registered in the City Vineyard Network's upcoming global directory, which includes better-known urban wineries such as the 1,800 plants on the hillsides of the French capital's historic artistic district neighbourhood and more than 3,000 vines with views of and inside Turin. Based in Italy charitable organization is at the vanguard of a movement reviving urban grape cultivation in historic wine-producing countries, but has discovered them throughout the world, including cities in East Asia, Bangladesh and Uzbekistan.

"Vineyards help cities remain more eco-friendly and more diverse. These spaces protect open space from construction by creating permanent, productive agricultural units within cities," explains the association's president.

Similar to other vintages, those produced in urban areas are a product of the earth the plants thrive in, the vagaries of the weather and the people who care for the fruit. "Each vintage represents the beauty, local spirit, landscape and heritage of a city," adds the spokesperson.

Mystery Eastern European Grapes

Back in Bristol, Bayliss-Smith is in a race against time to harvest the grapevines he cultivated from a plant left in his allotment by a Eastern European household. Should the rain arrives, then the pigeons may seize their chance to attack again. "Here we have the enigmatic Polish grape," he comments, as he removes bruised and mouldy grapes from the glistering clusters. "We don't really know what variety they are, but they're definitely disease-resistant. In contrast to noble varieties – Burgundy grapes, Chardonnay and additional renowned French grapes – you don't have to treat them with chemicals ... this is possibly a special variety that was bred by the Eastern Bloc."

Collective Activities Throughout Bristol

Additional participants of the collective are also taking advantage of bright periods between showers of fall precipitation. At a rooftop garden with views of the city's shimmering waterfront, where historic trading ships once bobbed with barrels of wine from France and the Iberian peninsula, Katy Grant is collecting her rondo grapes from approximately fifty vines. "I adore the aroma of the grapevines. The scent is so evocative," she says, stopping with a basket of grapes resting on her shoulder. "It's the scent of southern France when you open the vehicle windows on vacation."

Grant, 52, who has devoted more than 20 years working for humanitarian organizations in conflict zones, inadvertently took over the vineyard when she returned to the United Kingdom from Kenya with her family in recent years. She experienced an overwhelming duty to maintain the grapevines in the garden of their new home. "This plot has previously endured multiple proprietors," she explains. "I deeply appreciate the idea of environmental care – of passing this on to future caretakers so they can keep cultivating from this land."

Terraced Gardens and Natural Winemaking

Nearby, 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 perched on ledges in her wild half-acre garden, which descends towards the silty local waterway. "People are always surprised," she notes, indicating the interwoven vineyard. "They can't believe they are viewing grapevine lines in a city street."

Today, the filmmaker, 60, is picking bunches of dusty purple dark berries from lines of plants slung across the cliff-side with the help of her child, her family member. The conservationist, a documentary producer who has worked on streaming service's Great National Parks series and BBC Two's Gardeners' World, was motivated to plant grapes after observing her neighbor's vines. She has learned that amateurs can produce intriguing, enjoyable traditional vintage, which can command prices of upwards of £7 a serving in the increasing quantity of establishments specialising in minimal-intervention vintages. "It's just deeply rewarding that you can truly create quality, natural wine," she states. "It's very on trend, but really it's resurrecting an traditional method of making wine."

"When I tread the fruit, all the natural microorganisms are released from the skins into the juice," explains the winemaker, ankle deep in a container of small branches, pips and red liquid. "That's how vintages were made traditionally, but commercial producers add preservatives to kill the wild yeast and subsequently add a lab-grown yeast."

Difficult Conditions and Creative Approaches

In the immediate vicinity sprightly retiree Bob Reeve, who motivated his neighbor to establish her grapevines, has assembled his friends to harvest Chardonnay grapes from one hundred vines he has arranged precisely across multiple levels. Reeve, a northern English physical education instructor who worked at the local university cultivated an interest in viticulture on regular visits to Europe. But it is a difficult task to grow this particular variety in the dampness of the valley, with temperature fluctuations sweeping in and out from the Bristol Channel. "I aimed to produce French-style vintages here, which is a bit bonkers," admits the retiree with amusement. "Chardonnay is late to ripen and particularly vulnerable to fungal infections."

"I wanted to make European-style vintages here, which is rather ambitious"

The temperamental local weather is not the only challenge encountered by grape cultivators. The gardener has had to erect a fence on