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Every 20 minutes or so, an older diesel railway carriage pulls into a graffiti-covered stop. Nearby, a law enforcement alarm cuts through the almost continuous road noise. Commuters rush by collapsing, ivy-draped garden fences as storm clouds gather.

It is maybe the last place you expect to find a perfectly formed grape-growing plot. But James Bayliss-Smith has cultivated 40 mature vines heavy with round purplish grapes on a rambling garden plot sandwiched between a line of historic homes and a commuter railway just above Bristol town centre.

"I've noticed people hiding heroin or whatever in those bushes," states the grower. "Yet you just get on with it ... and continue caring for your grapevines."

Bayliss-Smith, 46, a documentary cameraman who runs a fermented beverage company, is among several local vintner. He has pulled together a informal group of growers who make wine from four hidden urban vineyards tucked away in private yards and community plots across the city. The project is sufficiently underground to possess an official name so far, but the group's WhatsApp group is named Vineyard Dreams.

Urban Vineyards Around the Globe

To date, Bayliss-Smith's allotment is the sole location registered in the Urban Vineyards Association's forthcoming world atlas, which includes better-known city vineyards such as the eighteen hundred vines on the hillsides of the French capital's renowned Montmartre area and over 3,000 vines with views of and within the Italian city. Based in Italy charitable organization is at the vanguard of a initiative re-establishing urban grape cultivation in historic wine-producing nations, but has identified them throughout the globe, including cities in East Asia, Bangladesh and Central Asia.

"Grape gardens help urban areas stay greener and more diverse. These spaces preserve open space from construction by establishing long-term, productive farming plots within cities," explains the organization's leader.

Like all wines, those created in cities are a product of the soils the plants thrive in, the unpredictability of the climate and the people who tend the fruit. "A bottle of wine represents the beauty, community, landscape and history of a city," adds the spokesperson.

Mystery Eastern European Grapes

Returning to the city, Bayliss-Smith is in a race against time to gather the vines he grew from a plant abandoned in his allotment by a Polish family. If the precipitation comes, then the birds may seize their chance to attack again. "Here we have the enigmatic Polish grape," he says, as he cleans bruised and rotten grapes from the glistering bunches. "We don't really know their exact classification, but they are certainly disease-resistant. In contrast to noble varieties – Pinot Noir, Chardonnay and additional renowned French grapes – you need not treat them with pesticides ... this could be a special variety that was developed by the Soviets."

Collective Activities Throughout the City

The other members of the collective are also making the most of bright periods between showers of fall precipitation. At a rooftop garden overlooking Bristol's shimmering harbour, where medieval merchant vessels once floated with casks of vintage from Europe and Spain, Katy Grant is harvesting her rondo grapes from approximately fifty plants. "I love the smell of the grapevines. It is so reminiscent," she says, stopping with a container of fruit slung over her arm. "It's the scent of southern France when you roll down the vehicle windows on vacation."

The humanitarian worker, 52, 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 2018. She experienced an overwhelming duty to maintain the vines in the garden of their recently acquired property. "This vineyard has previously survived multiple proprietors," she says. "I really like the concept of natural stewardship – of handing this down to future caretakers so they can keep cultivating from this land."

Terraced Vineyards and Traditional Production

Nearby, the final two members of the collective are busily laboring on the precipitous slopes of the local river valley. Jo Scofield has established more than 150 plants perched on ledges in her expansive property, which descends towards the silty River Avon. "People are always surprised," she says, indicating the tangled vineyard. "They can't believe they are viewing grapevine lines in a city street."

Today, the filmmaker, sixty, is harvesting clusters of deep violet Rondo grapes from rows of vines arranged along the hillside with the help of her child, her family member. Scofield, a documentary producer who has contributed to Netflix's nature programming and television network's Gardeners' World, was inspired to cultivate vines after seeing her neighbour's grapevines. She's discovered that amateurs can produce interesting, enjoyable natural wine, which can sell for more than seven pounds a serving in the increasing quantity of wine bars focusing on low-processing wines. "It is deeply rewarding that you can truly create quality, traditional vintage," she states. "It is quite fashionable, but really it's reviving an traditional method of making vintage."

"During foot-stomping the fruit, the various natural microorganisms come off the skins into the liquid," says Scofield, ankle deep in a container of tiny stems, pips and red liquid. "This represents how wines were made traditionally, but commercial producers add sulphur [dioxide] to eliminate the natural cultures and then add a commercially produced culture."

Difficult Environments and Creative Solutions

A few doors down sprightly retiree Bob Reeve, who motivated Scofield to plant her grapevines, has gathered his friends to harvest Chardonnay grapes from one hundred plants he has laid out neatly across multiple levels. Reeve, a Lancashire-born PE teacher who worked at Bristol University developed a passion for viticulture on annual sporting trips to Europe. But it is a difficult task to grow this particular variety in the humidity of the valley, with cooling tides moving through from the Bristol Channel. "I aimed to produce French-style vintages here, which is a bit bonkers," admits Reeve with a smile. "This variety is late to ripen and particularly vulnerable to mildew."

"My goal was creating European-style vintages in this environment, which is rather ambitious"

The temperamental Bristol climate is not the only challenge faced by grape cultivators. Reeve has been compelled to erect a fence on