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Every 20 minutes or so, an older diesel-powered railway carriage pulls into a graffiti-covered station. Close by, a police siren pierces the almost continuous road noise. Daily travelers hurry past falling apart, ivy-draped fencing panels as rain clouds gather.

This is maybe the least likely spot you expect to find a perfectly formed grape-growing plot. But James Bayliss-Smith has managed to four dozen established plants sagging with round purplish berries on a rambling allotment situated between a row of 1930s houses and a commuter railway just above Bristol town centre.

"I've seen people concealing heroin or whatever in those bushes," states the grower. "But you just get on with it ... and keep tending to your grapevines."

The cameraman, forty-six, a filmmaker who also has a fermented beverage company, is not the only local vintner. He's pulled together a informal group of growers who produce wine from several hidden city grape gardens tucked away in private yards and allotments across the city. The project is sufficiently underground to have an official name so far, but the collective's WhatsApp group is called Vineyard Dreams.

City Wine Gardens Across the World

So far, the grower's plot is the only one registered in the City Vineyard Network's upcoming global directory, which includes more famous urban wineries such as the 1,800 vines on the hillsides of Paris's historic artistic district neighbourhood and more than 3,000 vines with views of and inside Turin. The Italian-based charitable organization is at the vanguard of a initiative reviving city vineyards in traditional winemaking countries, but has identified them throughout the world, including urban centers in Japan, South Asia and Uzbekistan.

"Vineyards assist urban areas remain more eco-friendly and more diverse. They preserve open space from construction by creating long-term, productive farming plots within cities," explains the association's president.

Similar to other vintages, those produced in cities are a product of the earth the plants thrive in, the vagaries of the climate and the individuals who care for the grapes. "Each vintage represents the beauty, local spirit, landscape and heritage of a urban center," adds the spokesperson.

Unknown Eastern European Variety

Returning to the city, Bayliss-Smith is in a race against time to harvest the vines he grew from a cutting left in his garden by a Eastern European household. If the precipitation arrives, then the pigeons may take advantage to attack again. "This is the mystery Polish grape," he says, as he cleans damaged and rotten berries from the glistering clusters. "The variety remains uncertain their exact classification, but they're definitely hardy. In contrast to premium grapes – Burgundy grapes, Chardonnay and additional renowned French grapes – you don't have to treat them with chemicals ... this is possibly a unique cultivar that was bred by the Eastern Bloc."

Collective Activities Throughout the City

Additional participants of the group are also taking advantage of sunny interludes between bursts of fall precipitation. On the terrace overlooking the city's glistening harbour, where medieval merchant vessels once bobbed with barrels of wine from France and Spain, one cultivator is harvesting her dark berries from approximately 50 plants. "I adore the smell of these vines. It is so evocative," she says, stopping with a container of grapes slung over her shoulder. "It's the scent of Provence when you roll down the vehicle windows on holiday."

The humanitarian worker, fifty-two, who has spent over two decades working for humanitarian organizations in war-torn regions, unexpectedly inherited the grape garden when she moved back to the United Kingdom from East Africa with her household in recent years. She experienced an overwhelming duty to look after the vines in the yard of their new home. "This plot has previously survived three different owners," she says. "I really like the concept of natural stewardship – of handing this down to someone else so they continue producing from this land."

Sloping Gardens and Natural Production

A short walk away, the final two members of the collective are hard at work on the precipitous slopes of Avon Gorge. One filmmaker has cultivated more than 150 vines situated on ledges in her wild half-acre garden, which descends towards the silty River Avon. "Visitors frequently express amazement," she notes, indicating the interwoven vineyard. "It's astonishing to them they can see rows of vines in a urban neighborhood."

Currently, the filmmaker, sixty, is picking clusters of dusty purple dark berries from lines of plants arranged along the hillside with the assistance of her daughter, Luca. The conservationist, a documentary producer who has contributed to Netflix's nature programming and BBC Two's Gardeners' World, was inspired to cultivate vines after observing her neighbour's vines. She has learned that hobbyists can produce interesting, pleasurable traditional vintage, which can sell for more than £7 a serving in the increasing quantity of wine bars specialising in low-processing vintages. "It's just incredibly satisfying that you can truly create good, natural wine," she says. "It's very fashionable, but really it's reviving an traditional method of making vintage."

"When I tread the fruit, all the wild yeasts come off the skins into the liquid," explains Scofield, ankle deep in a container of small branches, seeds and crimson juice. "This represents how wines were historically produced, but industrial wineries introduce preservatives to kill the wild yeast and subsequently incorporate a lab-grown yeast."

Challenging Conditions and Creative Approaches

A few doors down active senior Bob Reeve, who motivated his neighbor to establish her vines, has assembled his companions to pick white wine varieties from one hundred plants he has laid out neatly across multiple levels. Reeve, a Lancashire-born PE teacher who worked at Bristol University cultivated an interest in wine on annual sporting trips to Europe. However it is a challenge to cultivate this particular variety in the humidity of the valley, with cooling tides sweeping in and out from the nearby estuary. "I wanted to make Burgundian wines in this location, which is a bit bonkers," says the retiree with a smile. "Chardonnay is slow-maturing and particularly vulnerable to fungal infections."

"My goal was creating European-style vintages here, which is rather ambitious"

The unpredictable Bristol climate is not the only problem faced by grape cultivators. The gardener has had to erect a barrier on