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Every quarter of an hour or so, an ageing diesel-powered train arrives at a spray-painted stop. Nearby, a police siren cuts through the almost continuous road noise. Daily travelers hurry past falling apart, ivy-covered garden fences as storm clouds form.

It is maybe the least likely spot you anticipate to find a perfectly formed vineyard. But one local grower has managed to 40 mature vines heavy with plump mauve berries on a rambling allotment sandwiched between a line of 1930s houses and a commuter railway just north of Bristol town centre.

"I've noticed individuals concealing heroin or other items in those bushes," says the grower. "Yet you simply continue ... and continue caring for your vines."

Bayliss-Smith, 46, a documentary cameraman who also has a fermented beverage company, is not the only local vintner. He's pulled together a informal group of cultivators who make vintage from several hidden urban vineyards nestled in private yards and community plots 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.

Urban Wine Gardens Across the World

So far, Bayliss-Smith's plot is the only one listed in the Urban Vineyards Association's forthcoming global directory, which features better-known city vineyards such as the 1,800 plants on the hillsides of the French capital's renowned artistic district area and more than 3,000 grapevines overlooking and inside Turin. The Italian-based charitable organization is at the forefront of a movement re-establishing urban grape cultivation in traditional winemaking nations, but has identified them throughout the world, including cities in Japan, Bangladesh and Uzbekistan.

"Grape gardens help cities stay more eco-friendly and ecologically varied. These spaces protect open space from construction by establishing long-term, productive agricultural units inside urban environments," says the association's president.

Like all wines, those created in cities are a product of the earth the plants thrive in, the unpredictability of the climate and the individuals who care for the grapes. "Each vintage represents the beauty, community, landscape and history of a urban center," adds the president.

Mystery Polish Variety

Returning to the city, the grower is in a race against time to harvest the vines he grew from a plant left in his allotment by a Polish family. Should the precipitation comes, then the birds may take advantage to feast again. "Here we have the enigmatic Eastern European grape," he comments, as he removes bruised and mouldy berries from the shimmering bunches. "The variety remains uncertain their exact classification, but they're definitely disease-resistant. In contrast to noble varieties – Burgundy grapes, white wine grapes and additional renowned European varieties – you don't have to treat them with chemicals ... this could be a unique cultivar that was bred by the Soviets."

Group Efforts Across Bristol

Additional participants of the group are additionally making the most of bright periods between showers of autumn rain. At a rooftop garden overlooking the city's glistening harbour, where medieval merchant vessels once bobbed with barrels of wine from Europe and Spain, Katy Grant is harvesting her rondo grapes from approximately fifty vines. "I adore the aroma of these vines. It is so reminiscent," she remarks, stopping with a container of grapes slung over her shoulder. "It's the scent of southern France when you roll down the car windows on vacation."

The humanitarian worker, 52, who has devoted more than 20 years working for charitable groups in war-torn regions, unexpectedly inherited the vineyard when she returned to the United Kingdom from Kenya with her family in recent years. She experienced an overwhelming duty to maintain the grapevines in the garden of their new home. "This vineyard has already endured three different owners," she says. "I really like the concept of natural stewardship – of handing this down to future caretakers so they can continue producing from this land."

Terraced Vineyards and Traditional Winemaking

A short walk away, the final two members of the group are busily laboring on the precipitous slopes of the local river valley. Jo Scofield has cultivated more than 150 plants situated on ledges in her wild half-acre garden, which descends towards the muddy River Avon. "People are always surprised," she notes, indicating the interwoven vineyard. "It's astonishing to them they are viewing rows of vines in a urban neighborhood."

Currently, the filmmaker, 60, is picking bunches of deep violet dark berries from lines of vines slung across the cliff-side with the assistance of her child, her family member. Scofield, a documentary producer who has contributed to streaming service's nature programming and BBC Two's gardening shows, was inspired to cultivate vines after observing her neighbour's grapevines. She has learned that hobbyists can make intriguing, enjoyable natural wine, which can sell for more than £7 a serving in the increasing quantity of wine bars specialising in low-processing wines. "It is incredibly satisfying that you can actually create quality, natural wine," she says. "It is quite fashionable, but really it's reviving an traditional method of making vintage."

"During foot-stomping the fruit, all the natural microorganisms come off the skins and enter the liquid," explains the winemaker, partially submerged in a container of small branches, pips and crimson juice. "This represents how vintages were historically produced, but industrial wineries introduce preservatives to eliminate the natural cultures and then add a lab-grown culture."

Difficult Conditions and Creative Solutions

A few doors down sprightly retiree Bob Reeve, who inspired Scofield to establish her vines, has gathered his friends to harvest Chardonnay grapes from the 100 vines he has laid out neatly across multiple levels. The former teacher, a northern English physical education instructor who worked at the local university cultivated an interest in wine on regular visits to France. However it is a difficult task to cultivate this particular variety in the humidity of the valley, with cooling tides moving through from the Bristol Channel. "I aimed to make Burgundian wines in this location, which is somewhat ambitious," admits Reeve with a smile. "This variety is late to ripen and very sensitive to fungal infections."

"I wanted to make European-style vintages here, which is rather ambitious"

The temperamental Bristol climate is not the only problem encountered by winegrowers. The gardener has been compelled to erect a barrier on