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Each 20 minutes or so, an ageing diesel-powered train arrives at a graffiti-covered station. Nearby, a police siren pierces the near-constant road noise. Daily travelers rush by collapsing, ivy-draped fencing panels as rain clouds form.

This is maybe the last place you expect to find a well-established vineyard. But James Bayliss-Smith has cultivated 40 mature vines sagging with round purplish berries on a rambling garden plot sandwiched between a line of historic homes and a commuter railway just north of the city downtown.

"I've noticed people hiding heroin or other items in the shrubbery," states Bayliss-Smith. "But you simply continue ... and keep tending to your vines."

Bayliss-Smith, forty-six, a filmmaker who runs a kombucha drinks business, is among several urban winemaker. He's organized a informal group of cultivators who make vintage from four hidden city grape gardens nestled in private yards and allotments throughout Bristol. It is sufficiently underground to possess an formal title yet, but the collective's WhatsApp group is named Grape Expectations.

City Vineyards Across the World

To date, the grower's plot is the sole location registered in the Urban Vineyards Association's forthcoming global directory, which includes more famous urban wineries such as the eighteen hundred plants on the slopes of Paris's renowned artistic district neighbourhood and more than 3,000 vines with views of and within Turin. Based in Italy charitable organization is at the vanguard of a movement reviving urban grape cultivation in historic wine-producing countries, but has identified them throughout the globe, including cities in East Asia, Bangladesh and Central Asia.

"Grape gardens help urban areas remain more eco-friendly and more diverse. These spaces preserve land from development by creating permanent, yielding agricultural units within urban environments," says the association's president.

Like all wines, those created in cities are a product of the soils the vines grow in, the vagaries of the climate and the people who care for the grapes. "Each vintage embodies the beauty, community, environment and heritage of a urban center," notes the spokesperson.

Mystery Eastern European Grapes

Returning to the city, the grower is in a race against time to harvest the vines he cultivated from a cutting left in his garden by a Eastern European household. If the rain arrives, then the birds may take advantage to attack again. "This is the enigmatic Eastern European grape," he comments, as he removes bruised and mouldy grapes from the glistering clusters. "The variety remains uncertain what variety they are, but they're definitely hardy. In contrast to noble varieties – Pinot Noir, Chardonnay and other famous French grapes – you need not spray them with chemicals ... this could be a special variety that was bred by the Soviets."

Group Activities Across the City

The other members of the collective are additionally making the most of bright periods between bursts of autumn rain. At a rooftop garden with views of the city's glistening waterfront, where historic trading ships once floated with casks of vintage from France and the Iberian peninsula, one cultivator is harvesting her dark berries from approximately 50 plants. "I love the smell of the grapevines. The scent is so reminiscent," she says, stopping with a basket of grapes resting on her arm. "It's the scent of southern France when you roll down the car windows on holiday."

Grant, fifty-two, who has spent over two decades working for humanitarian organizations in war-torn regions, inadvertently inherited the grape garden when she returned to the UK from East Africa with her family in recent years. She experienced an overwhelming duty to look after the vines in the garden of their new home. "This plot has already endured three different owners," she says. "I really like the idea of natural stewardship – of passing this on to future caretakers so they can keep cultivating from this land."

Sloping Vineyards and Natural Winemaking

Nearby, the final two members of the group are hard at work on the precipitous slopes of Avon Gorge. Jo Scofield has cultivated over 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. "They can't believe they can see grapevine lines in a urban neighborhood."

Currently, the filmmaker, 60, is picking clusters of dusty purple Rondo grapes from lines of plants slung across the cliff-side with the assistance of her child, her family member. The conservationist, a documentary producer who has worked on Netflix's Great National Parks series and BBC Two's Gardeners' World, was motivated to plant grapes after observing her neighbor's vines. She's discovered that hobbyists can produce intriguing, enjoyable natural wine, which can sell for more than £7 a glass in the increasing quantity of establishments focusing on low-processing wines. "It is deeply rewarding that you can truly make quality, natural wine," she states. "It is quite on trend, but really it's reviving an traditional method of making wine."

"When I tread the fruit, all the wild yeasts are released from the surfaces into the juice," explains Scofield, partially submerged in a container of tiny stems, pips and crimson juice. "That's how vintages were made traditionally, but industrial wineries introduce sulphur [dioxide] to kill the natural cultures and then incorporate a lab-grown culture."

Challenging Environments and Inventive Solutions

In the immediate vicinity sprightly retiree another cultivator, who inspired Scofield to plant her vines, has assembled his companions to harvest white wine varieties from the 100 plants he has arranged precisely across two terraces. The former teacher, a Lancashire-born physical education instructor who taught at Bristol University developed a passion for viticulture on annual sporting trips to Europe. But it is a challenge to grow this particular variety in the humidity of the gorge, with temperature fluctuations sweeping in and out from the Bristol Channel. "I wanted to make Burgundian wines in this location, which is a bit bonkers," says Reeve with a smile. "This variety is late to ripen and particularly vulnerable to mildew."

"I wanted to make Burgundian wines in this environment, which is a bit bonkers"

The unpredictable Bristol climate is not the sole challenge faced by winegrowers. Reeve has had to erect a fence on