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Every quarter of an hour or so, an older diesel-powered train pulls into a graffiti-covered stop. Nearby, a law enforcement alarm cuts through the near-constant traffic drone. Commuters rush by collapsing, ivy-draped fencing panels as rain clouds gather.

This is perhaps the last place you anticipate to find a perfectly formed vineyard. However James Bayliss-Smith has cultivated four dozen established plants sagging with round purplish grapes on a sprawling allotment situated between a row of 1930s houses and a local rail line just north of the city downtown.

"I've seen individuals concealing heroin or whatever in those bushes," states Bayliss-Smith. "Yet you simply continue ... and continue caring for your grapevines."

The cameraman, forty-six, a filmmaker who also has a kombucha drinks business, is not the only local vintner. He's pulled together a loose collective of cultivators who make vintage from four hidden city grape gardens nestled in back gardens and community plots across the city. The project is sufficiently underground to have an formal title yet, but the group's messaging chat is called Vineyard Dreams.

Urban Vineyards Around the World

To date, Bayliss-Smith's allotment is the sole location registered in the Urban Vineyards Association's upcoming world atlas, which features better-known urban wineries such as the 1,800 plants on the slopes of Paris's historic artistic district area and over 3,000 vines with views of and inside Turin. The Italian-based non-profit association is at the vanguard of a movement reviving urban grape cultivation in historic wine-producing nations, but has discovered them throughout the globe, including cities in Japan, South Asia and Uzbekistan.

"Vineyards assist urban areas stay greener and ecologically varied. They protect open space from development by creating long-term, yielding farming plots inside cities," says the association's president.

Similar to other vintages, those created in urban areas are a result of the earth the plants thrive in, the vagaries of the climate and the individuals who tend the grapes. "A bottle of wine embodies the beauty, local spirit, environment and history of a urban center," adds the spokesperson.

Mystery Eastern European Grapes

Back in the city, Bayliss-Smith is in a race against time to harvest the grapevines he cultivated from a plant abandoned in his allotment by a Eastern European household. Should the rain arrives, then the birds may take advantage to feast again. "This is the mystery Eastern European variety," he says, as he removes bruised and mouldy grapes from the shimmering bunches. "The variety remains uncertain what variety they are, but they are certainly hardy. Unlike noble varieties – Burgundy grapes, Chardonnay and other famous French grapes – you need not spray them with pesticides ... this could be a unique cultivar that was developed by the Soviets."

Collective Efforts Throughout the City

The other members of the group are additionally making the most of sunny interludes between bursts of fall precipitation. At a rooftop garden with views of Bristol's glistening harbour, where medieval merchant vessels once floated with barrels of vintage from France and Spain, one cultivator is harvesting her rondo grapes from about fifty plants. "I love the aroma of the grapevines. It is so reminiscent," she says, stopping with a container of grapes resting on her shoulder. "It's the scent of Provence when you open the car windows on vacation."

The humanitarian worker, 52, who has devoted more than 20 years working for charitable groups in war-torn regions, inadvertently inherited the grape garden when she moved back to the UK from East Africa with her household in recent years. She experienced an strong responsibility to look after the vines in the garden of their recently acquired property. "This vineyard has previously survived three different owners," she says. "I deeply appreciate the concept of natural stewardship – of passing this on to future caretakers so they keep cultivating from the soil."

Sloping Gardens and Traditional Production

Nearby, the final two members of the group are busily laboring on the steep inclines of the local river valley. Jo Scofield has established more than 150 vines perched on terraces in her expansive property, which descends towards the muddy River Avon. "People are always surprised," she notes, indicating the tangled vineyard. "They can't believe they are viewing grapevine lines in a urban neighborhood."

Currently, Scofield, sixty, is picking bunches of deep violet dark berries from rows of plants arranged along the hillside with the help of her child, her family member. The conservationist, a wildlife and conservation film-maker who has contributed to streaming service's nature programming and BBC Two's gardening shows, was motivated to plant grapes after observing her neighbor's grapevines. She has learned that amateurs can produce intriguing, pleasurable traditional vintage, which can sell for more than seven pounds a glass in the growing number of wine bars specialising in low-processing vintages. "It is deeply rewarding that you can actually make good, traditional vintage," she states. "It is quite fashionable, but in reality it's reviving an old way of making vintage."

"During foot-stomping the fruit, the various wild yeasts are released from the skins and enter the juice," says the winemaker, ankle deep in a container of tiny stems, seeds and crimson juice. "This represents how vintages were made traditionally, but industrial wineries introduce sulphur [dioxide] to eliminate the natural cultures and subsequently incorporate a commercially produced yeast."

Challenging Conditions and Inventive Solutions

In the immediate vicinity sprightly retiree Bob Reeve, who inspired Scofield to plant her vines, has gathered his friends to pick white wine varieties from one hundred vines he has arranged precisely across multiple levels. Reeve, a Lancashire-born physical education instructor who worked at Bristol University developed a passion for wine on regular visits to France. However it is a difficult task to grow Chardonnay grapes in the humidity of the gorge, with temperature fluctuations moving through from the Bristol Channel. "I aimed to produce French-style vintages in this location, which is somewhat ambitious," says Reeve with amusement. "Chardonnay is slow-maturing and very sensitive to mildew."

"My goal was creating Burgundian wines in this environment, which is a bit bonkers"

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