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Every quarter of an hour or so, an ageing diesel-powered train pulls into a spray-painted station. Nearby, a police siren cuts through the near-constant traffic drone. Commuters rush by falling apart, ivy-draped garden fences as storm clouds form.

This is perhaps the last place you anticipate to find a perfectly formed grape-growing plot. But James Bayliss-Smith has managed to 40 mature vines heavy with round mauve grapes on a rambling garden plot sandwiched between a line of historic homes and a commuter railway just above the city town centre.

"I've noticed individuals hiding illegal substances or whatever in the shrubbery," says the grower. "Yet you simply continue ... and continue caring for your vines."

The cameraman, forty-six, a documentary cameraman who runs a fermented beverage company, is among several urban winemaker. He has organized a loose collective of cultivators who make vintage from four hidden urban vineyards nestled in back gardens and community plots throughout Bristol. The project is sufficiently underground to have an formal title yet, but the group's WhatsApp group is called Grape Expectations.

Urban Vineyards Across the World

So far, Bayliss-Smith's allotment is the sole location listed in the City Vineyard Network's upcoming global directory, which features more famous urban wineries such as the 1,800 vines on the slopes of Paris's historic artistic district neighbourhood and more than 3,000 vines with views of and within the Italian city. The Italian-based charitable organization is at the forefront of a initiative reviving city vineyards in traditional winemaking countries, but has identified them all over the globe, including cities in Japan, Bangladesh and Central Asia.

"Grape gardens assist cities stay more eco-friendly and ecologically varied. They protect open space from development by establishing long-term, yielding agricultural units within cities," explains the organization's leader.

Like all wines, those created in urban areas are a result of the soils the vines thrive in, the vagaries of the climate and the people who care for the grapes. "Each vintage embodies the beauty, local spirit, environment and history of a city," notes the president.

Mystery Polish Variety

Back in Bristol, Bayliss-Smith is in a race against time to harvest the grapevines he grew from a cutting left in his garden by a Polish family. Should the precipitation arrives, then the birds may seize their chance to attack again. "This is the enigmatic Eastern European variety," he comments, as he cleans bruised and rotten berries from the glistering clusters. "We don't really know what variety they are, but they are certainly hardy. In contrast to premium grapes – Pinot Noir, white wine grapes and other famous European varieties – you need not treat them with chemicals ... this could be a unique cultivar that was bred by the Eastern Bloc."

Collective Efforts Across the City

The other members of the group are also making the most of bright periods between bursts of fall precipitation. At a rooftop garden overlooking Bristol's glistening harbour, where historic trading ships once floated with barrels of vintage from Europe and the Iberian peninsula, one cultivator is harvesting her dark berries from about 50 plants. "I love the smell of these vines. It is so evocative," she says, stopping with a container of grapes resting on her shoulder. "It's the scent of Provence when you open the car windows on vacation."

Grant, fifty-two, who has devoted more than two decades working for humanitarian organizations in conflict zones, inadvertently inherited the grape garden when she moved back to the United Kingdom from East Africa with her household in recent years. She experienced an strong responsibility to look after the grapevines in the garden of their new home. "This plot has previously survived three different owners," she explains. "I really like the concept of environmental care – of passing this on to future caretakers so they continue producing from this land."

Sloping Vineyards and Traditional Winemaking

A short walk away, the final two members of the collective are hard at work on the precipitous slopes of Avon Gorge. Jo Scofield has established more than 150 plants situated on terraces in her wild half-acre garden, which descends towards the muddy River Avon. "People are always surprised," she notes, gesturing towards the interwoven vineyard. "They can't believe they are viewing grapevine lines in a urban neighborhood."

Today, Scofield, sixty, is picking bunches of dusty purple dark berries from lines of vines arranged along the hillside with the help of her child, her family member. The conservationist, a documentary producer who has contributed to Netflix's Great National Parks series and BBC Two's gardening shows, was motivated to plant grapes after seeing her neighbor's vines. She has learned that amateurs can produce interesting, enjoyable traditional vintage, which can command prices of more than £7 a serving in the increasing quantity of wine bars focusing on low-processing vintages. "It's just incredibly satisfying that you can actually make quality, traditional vintage," she says. "It is quite on trend, but in reality it's reviving an traditional method of making wine."

"During foot-stomping the grapes, the various natural microorganisms are released from the skins and enter the juice," says the winemaker, partially submerged in a container of tiny stems, seeds and crimson juice. "This represents how wines were historically produced, but commercial producers introduce sulphur [dioxide] to eliminate the natural cultures and then incorporate a lab-grown culture."

Challenging Environments and Creative Approaches

In the immediate vicinity sprightly retiree Bob Reeve, who motivated his neighbor to plant her grapevines, has assembled his companions to harvest Chardonnay grapes from one hundred plants he has arranged precisely across multiple levels. The former teacher, a Lancashire-born PE teacher who worked at Bristol University developed a passion for wine on regular visits to Europe. However it is a difficult task to grow Chardonnay grapes in the humidity of the gorge, with cooling tides sweeping in and out from the nearby estuary. "I aimed to produce Burgundian wines in this location, which is somewhat ambitious," admits the retiree with a smile. "This variety is slow-maturing and particularly vulnerable to mildew."

"My goal was creating Burgundian wines in this environment, which is a bit bonkers"

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