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Each 20 minutes or so, an older diesel-powered railway carriage arrives at a graffiti-covered stop. Nearby, a police siren pierces the almost continuous road noise. Commuters rush by collapsing, ivy-covered fencing panels as storm clouds gather.

This is maybe the last place you expect to find a well-established vineyard. However one local grower has cultivated 40 mature vines sagging with plump mauve berries on a sprawling garden plot situated between a line of 1930s houses and a commuter railway just north of the city town centre.

"I've seen individuals concealing heroin or whatever in the shrubbery," states the grower. "But you just get on with it ... and continue caring for your vines."

Bayliss-Smith, forty-six, a documentary cameraman who runs a kombucha drinks business, is among several urban winemaker. He has organized a informal group of growers who produce vintage from several discreet urban vineyards nestled in back gardens and community plots across the city. The project is sufficiently underground to have an formal title so far, but the collective's WhatsApp group is called Vineyard Dreams.

Urban Vineyards Across the Globe

So far, Bayliss-Smith's plot is the sole location registered in the Urban Vineyards Association's forthcoming global directory, which features better-known city vineyards such as the 1,800 vines on the slopes of Paris's historic Montmartre neighbourhood and over 3,000 vines overlooking and inside the Italian city. The Italian-based charitable organization is at the vanguard of a movement re-establishing urban grape cultivation in historic wine-producing countries, but has discovered them all over the world, including cities in Japan, South Asia and Uzbekistan.

"Grape gardens assist urban areas remain greener and ecologically varied. These spaces preserve land from construction by establishing long-term, productive farming plots within cities," says the organization's leader.

Similar to other vintages, those created in urban areas are a product of the soils the plants grow in, the unpredictability of the climate and the people who tend the fruit. "A bottle of wine represents the charm, community, landscape and heritage of a urban center," adds the president.

Mystery Eastern European Variety

Back in the city, Bayliss-Smith is in a urgent timeline to gather the vines he cultivated from a plant abandoned in his garden by a Polish family. If the rain arrives, then the birds may seize their chance to attack again. "This is the enigmatic Polish grape," he comments, as he removes damaged and rotten berries from the shimmering bunches. "We don't really know their exact classification, but they're definitely disease-resistant. In contrast to noble varieties – Pinot Noir, white wine grapes and additional renowned European varieties – you need not spray them with chemicals ... this could be a special variety that was developed by the Soviets."

Collective Efforts Across Bristol

The other members of the group are also taking advantage of bright periods between bursts of autumn rain. On the terrace overlooking the city's shimmering waterfront, where historic trading ships once bobbed with casks of vintage from Europe and the Iberian peninsula, Katy Grant is collecting her rondo grapes from approximately fifty vines. "I love the aroma of these vines. The scent is so reminiscent," she remarks, pausing with a container of grapes slung over her arm. "It's the scent of Provence when you open the vehicle windows on holiday."

The humanitarian worker, fifty-two, who has devoted more than two decades working for charitable groups in war-torn regions, unexpectedly inherited the grape garden when she returned to the UK from Kenya with her household in recent years. She experienced an strong responsibility to look after the grapevines in the yard of their recently acquired property. "This plot has already endured multiple proprietors," she explains. "I really like the concept of environmental care – of passing this on to future caretakers so they can keep cultivating from the soil."

Terraced Vineyards and Natural Winemaking

A short walk away, the remaining cultivators of the collective are busily laboring on the precipitous slopes of the local river valley. Jo Scofield has established over one hundred fifty plants situated on terraces in her wild half-acre garden, which tumbles down towards the silty local waterway. "Visitors frequently express amazement," she says, gesturing towards the tangled grape garden. "They can't believe they are viewing grapevine lines in a city street."

Currently, the filmmaker, 60, is harvesting clusters of dusty purple Rondo grapes from rows of vines arranged along the cliff-side with the assistance of her daughter, Luca. Scofield, a wildlife and conservation film-maker who has worked on Netflix's nature programming and television network's gardening shows, was motivated to plant grapes after seeing her neighbour's vines. She's discovered that amateurs can produce intriguing, pleasurable traditional vintage, which can sell for more than seven pounds a serving in the increasing quantity of wine bars focusing on low-processing wines. "It's just deeply rewarding that you can truly create quality, natural wine," she says. "It is quite on trend, but really it's reviving an old way of making wine."

"When I tread the fruit, the various wild yeasts come off the skins and enter the juice," says Scofield, ankle deep in a container of tiny stems, seeds and red liquid. "That's how vintages were historically produced, but commercial producers introduce preservatives to eliminate the wild yeast and subsequently add a lab-grown yeast."

Challenging Environments and Creative Solutions

A few doors down active senior Bob Reeve, who inspired Scofield to plant her vines, has assembled his companions to pick Chardonnay grapes from the 100 vines he has arranged precisely across two terraces. The former teacher, a Lancashire-born physical education instructor who worked at Bristol University cultivated an interest in wine on regular visits to Europe. But it is a difficult task to cultivate Chardonnay grapes in the humidity of the gorge, with cooling tides moving through from the nearby estuary. "I wanted to make French-style vintages here, which is somewhat ambitious," admits Reeve with a smile. "Chardonnay is late to ripen and particularly vulnerable to mildew."

"My goal was creating European-style vintages here, which is a bit bonkers"

The temperamental Bristol climate is not the only problem encountered by grape cultivators. The gardener has had to erect a fence on