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Every 20 minutes or so, an ageing diesel-powered train pulls into a spray-painted stop. Close by, a law enforcement alarm pierces the almost continuous road noise. Commuters hurry past collapsing, ivy-covered garden fences as storm clouds form.

This is maybe the least likely spot you anticipate to find a perfectly formed grape-growing plot. However one local grower has managed to four dozen established plants sagging with plump purplish berries on a rambling allotment situated between a row of historic homes and a local rail line just north of Bristol town centre.

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

Bayliss-Smith, forty-six, a filmmaker who runs a kombucha drinks business, is among several urban winemaker. He's pulled together a loose collective of cultivators who produce vintage from four discreet city grape gardens nestled in private yards and allotments throughout the city. The project is too clandestine to possess an official name so far, but the collective's WhatsApp group is called Vineyard Dreams.

Urban Vineyards Around the World

To date, Bayliss-Smith's allotment is the sole location registered in the City Vineyard Network's upcoming global directory, which includes more famous city vineyards such as the 1,800 plants on the hillsides of Paris's historic Montmartre area and more than 3,000 vines with views of and inside Turin. Based in Italy non-profit association is at the forefront of a movement reviving city vineyards in historic wine-producing nations, but has discovered them all over the world, including cities in East Asia, Bangladesh and Uzbekistan.

"Vineyards assist cities stay greener and ecologically varied. They protect open space from development by establishing long-term, productive agricultural units within urban environments," explains the association's president.

Similar to other vintages, those created in urban areas are a product of the soils the vines thrive in, the vagaries of the climate and the people who tend the fruit. "Each vintage embodies the charm, community, landscape and history of a urban center," adds the spokesperson.

Unknown Eastern European Grapes

Back in Bristol, 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 comes, then the birds may take advantage to feast once more. "This is the enigmatic Polish grape," he comments, as he removes damaged and rotten grapes from the shimmering clusters. "The variety remains uncertain their exact classification, but they are certainly disease-resistant. Unlike premium grapes – Pinot Noir, white wine grapes and additional renowned French grapes – you need not spray them with chemicals ... this could be a unique cultivar that was bred by the Eastern Bloc."

Group Efforts Throughout the City

Additional participants of the group are additionally making the most of sunny interludes between bursts of autumn rain. At a rooftop garden with views of the city's shimmering waterfront, where historic trading ships once floated with barrels of wine from Europe and Spain, Katy Grant is collecting her dark berries from approximately 50 plants. "I adore the aroma of these vines. It is so reminiscent," she says, stopping with a container of grapes slung over her arm. "It recalls the fragrance of Provence when you roll down the vehicle windows on vacation."

Grant, fifty-two, who has spent over 20 years working for humanitarian organizations in war-torn regions, inadvertently inherited the vineyard when she returned to the UK from East Africa with her household in recent years. She experienced an overwhelming duty to maintain the grapevines in the yard of their recently acquired property. "This plot has already endured multiple proprietors," she says. "I deeply appreciate the idea of natural stewardship – of handing this down to someone else so they continue producing from the soil."

Terraced Vineyards and Natural Production

Nearby, the remaining cultivators of the collective are busily laboring on the precipitous slopes of the local river valley. One filmmaker has established over 150 vines situated on terraces in her wild half-acre garden, which descends towards the muddy River Avon. "Visitors frequently express amazement," she notes, gesturing towards the tangled vineyard. "They can't believe they are viewing grapevine lines in a city street."

Today, the filmmaker, sixty, is picking bunches of deep violet Rondo grapes from lines of plants slung across the hillside with the help of her child, Luca. The conservationist, a wildlife and conservation film-maker who has worked on Netflix's Great National Parks series and BBC Two's Gardeners' World, was inspired to cultivate vines after seeing her neighbor's grapevines. She has learned that amateurs can make interesting, enjoyable natural wine, which can command prices of more than seven pounds a glass in the increasing quantity of establishments specialising in minimal-intervention wines. "It's just deeply rewarding that you can truly create good, traditional vintage," she says. "It's very fashionable, but in reality it's resurrecting an old way of making vintage."

"When I tread the fruit, the various wild yeasts are released from the skins and enter the liquid," says the winemaker, ankle deep in a container of tiny stems, pips and red liquid. "This represents how wines were historically produced, but industrial wineries introduce sulphur [dioxide] to kill the natural cultures and subsequently incorporate a lab-grown yeast."

Difficult Conditions and Inventive Approaches

In the immediate vicinity sprightly retiree Bob Reeve, who inspired Scofield to establish her vines, has gathered his companions to pick Chardonnay grapes from the 100 plants he has laid out neatly across multiple levels. The former teacher, a northern English physical education instructor who taught at Bristol University developed a passion for wine on regular visits to Europe. But it is a challenge to grow this particular variety in the dampness of the valley, with temperature fluctuations sweeping in and out from the nearby estuary. "I wanted to make French-style vintages here, which is a bit bonkers," says Reeve with a smile. "This variety is slow-maturing and particularly vulnerable to fungal infections."

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

The temperamental local weather is not the sole challenge faced by winegrowers. The gardener has been compelled to erect a fence on