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Every quarter of an hour or so, an older diesel train arrives at a graffiti-covered station. Nearby, a law enforcement alarm cuts through the near-constant road noise. Daily travelers hurry past falling apart, ivy-covered fencing panels as rain clouds form.

This is maybe the last place you anticipate to find a perfectly formed grape-growing plot. But James Bayliss-Smith has cultivated four dozen established plants sagging with round purplish grapes on a sprawling allotment situated between a row of historic homes and a local rail line just above the city downtown.

"I've noticed people hiding illegal substances or other items in the shrubbery," states the grower. "Yet you just get on with it ... and continue caring for your vines."

The cameraman, 46, a documentary cameraman who also has a kombucha drinks business, is not the only local vintner. He's pulled together a loose collective of cultivators who produce vintage from four hidden city grape gardens tucked away in private yards and allotments throughout the city. It is too clandestine to have an formal title yet, but the group's WhatsApp group is called Grape Expectations.

Urban Vineyards Across the World

To date, Bayliss-Smith's allotment is the only one listed in the City Vineyard Network's upcoming global directory, which includes better-known city vineyards such as the 1,800 vines on the hillsides of the French capital's renowned artistic district neighbourhood and more than 3,000 grapevines with views of and inside the Italian city. The Italian-based non-profit association is at the forefront of a movement re-establishing city vineyards in historic wine-producing countries, but has identified them throughout the globe, including urban centers in East Asia, Bangladesh and Central Asia.

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

Similar to other vintages, those created in cities are a result of the soils the vines grow in, the unpredictability of the weather and the individuals who tend the fruit. "Each vintage represents the charm, local spirit, landscape and history of a urban center," notes the president.

Unknown Polish Variety

Back in the city, Bayliss-Smith is in a urgent timeline to harvest the grapevines he grew from a plant abandoned in his garden by a Eastern European household. Should the precipitation arrives, then the birds may seize their chance to feast once more. "Here we have the mystery Eastern European grape," he comments, as he removes damaged and mouldy berries from the glistering bunches. "The variety remains uncertain their exact classification, but they are certainly hardy. Unlike noble varieties – Burgundy grapes, Chardonnay and other famous French grapes – you need not treat them with pesticides ... this could be a special variety that was developed by the Soviets."

Collective Efforts Throughout the City

The other members of the collective are also making the most of sunny interludes between bursts of autumn rain. At a rooftop garden overlooking the city's shimmering harbour, where medieval merchant vessels once bobbed with casks of vintage from France and the Iberian peninsula, Katy Grant is collecting her dark berries from approximately 50 vines. "I love the smell of these vines. The scent is so reminiscent," she says, pausing with a basket of fruit resting on her arm. "It recalls the fragrance of southern France when you roll down the car windows on vacation."

The humanitarian worker, 52, who has spent over two decades working for humanitarian organizations in conflict zones, unexpectedly inherited the vineyard when she moved back to the UK from Kenya with her household in recent years. She felt an strong responsibility to maintain the vines in the yard of their new home. "This vineyard has previously endured multiple proprietors," she explains. "I really like the idea of natural stewardship – of handing this down to future caretakers so they can keep cultivating from this land."

Terraced Vineyards and Natural Winemaking

Nearby, the final two members of the group are hard at work on the steep inclines of Avon Gorge. Jo Scofield has cultivated more than 150 vines perched on terraces in her expansive property, which descends towards the muddy River Avon. "People are always surprised," she says, indicating the interwoven grape garden. "It's astonishing to them they can see rows of vines in a urban neighborhood."

Today, the filmmaker, 60, is picking clusters of deep violet dark berries from rows of vines arranged along the hillside with the help of her daughter, her family member. The conservationist, a wildlife and conservation film-maker who has worked on streaming service's nature programming and television network's Gardeners' World, was inspired to cultivate vines after observing her neighbour's grapevines. She's discovered that hobbyists can make intriguing, enjoyable natural wine, which can sell for upwards of £7 a serving in the growing number of establishments focusing on minimal-intervention wines. "It is incredibly satisfying that you can actually create good, natural wine," she says. "It's very fashionable, but really it's resurrecting an old way of making wine."

"When I tread the grapes, all the natural microorganisms come off the surfaces and enter the juice," explains Scofield, ankle deep in a bucket of small branches, seeds and crimson juice. "That's how vintages were made traditionally, but commercial producers add sulphur [dioxide] to kill the natural cultures and subsequently incorporate a commercially produced yeast."

Challenging Conditions and Inventive Solutions

In the immediate vicinity sprightly retiree Bob Reeve, who inspired Scofield to establish her vines, has gathered his companions to harvest white wine varieties from one hundred plants he has laid out neatly across two terraces. The former teacher, a Lancashire-born physical education instructor who taught at Bristol University developed a passion for wine on regular visits to France. However it is a challenge to grow Chardonnay grapes in the dampness of the gorge, with temperature fluctuations moving through from the Bristol Channel. "I wanted to produce Burgundian wines in this location, which is somewhat ambitious," says Reeve with amusement. "Chardonnay is late to ripen and particularly vulnerable to fungal infections."

"My goal was creating Burgundian wines here, which is a bit bonkers"

The unpredictable Bristol climate is not the only challenge faced by grape cultivators. The gardener has had to install a fence on