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Every quarter of an hour or so, an ageing diesel-powered railway carriage pulls into a spray-painted station. Close by, a law enforcement alarm pierces the almost continuous traffic drone. Commuters hurry past falling apart, ivy-draped fencing panels as storm clouds form.

This is maybe the least likely spot you expect to find a perfectly formed vineyard. However James Bayliss-Smith has managed to four dozen established plants heavy with round mauve berries on a sprawling allotment sandwiched between a row of 1930s houses and a local rail line just above the city town centre.

"I've noticed people hiding illegal substances or whatever in those bushes," states the grower. "Yet you simply continue ... and continue caring for your grapevines."

Bayliss-Smith, forty-six, a documentary cameraman who also has a fermented beverage company, is not the only local vintner. He's organized a informal group of growers who make wine from several discreet urban vineyards nestled in back gardens and allotments throughout the city. The project is too clandestine to possess an formal title so far, but the collective's WhatsApp group is called Grape Expectations.

City Vineyards Around the Globe

So far, the grower's allotment is the sole location listed in the City Vineyard Network's upcoming world atlas, which features more famous city vineyards such as the eighteen hundred plants on the hillsides of the French capital's renowned Montmartre neighbourhood and over 3,000 vines overlooking and inside Turin. The Italian-based charitable organization is at the forefront of a movement reviving city vineyards in traditional winemaking countries, but has identified them throughout the globe, including urban centers in East Asia, Bangladesh and Uzbekistan.

"Vineyards assist cities stay greener and ecologically varied. These spaces preserve open space from development by creating long-term, productive farming plots within urban environments," says the association's president.

Similar to other vintages, those produced in urban areas are a product of the soils the plants thrive in, the unpredictability of the weather and the individuals who care for the fruit. "Each vintage embodies the beauty, local spirit, landscape and heritage of a city," notes the president.

Unknown Polish Variety

Returning to Bristol, Bayliss-Smith is in a urgent timeline to harvest the grapevines he cultivated from a plant left in his allotment by a Polish family. Should the rain arrives, then the birds may seize their chance to attack again. "Here we have the mystery Eastern European grape," he comments, as he cleans bruised and rotten berries from the shimmering clusters. "We don't really know what variety they are, but they're definitely disease-resistant. Unlike premium grapes – Pinot Noir, white wine grapes and other famous European varieties – you need not treat them with pesticides ... this could be a special variety that was developed by the Soviets."

Collective Efforts Throughout Bristol

Additional participants of the group are also taking advantage of bright periods between showers of fall precipitation. At a rooftop garden with views of the city's shimmering harbour, where medieval merchant vessels once bobbed with casks of wine from Europe and the Iberian peninsula, Katy Grant is harvesting her dark berries from about fifty plants. "I adore the smell of these vines. The scent is so evocative," she remarks, pausing with a container of grapes slung over her arm. "It recalls the fragrance of southern France when you open the vehicle windows on holiday."

The humanitarian worker, 52, who has devoted more than two decades working for charitable groups in war-torn regions, unexpectedly took over the grape garden when she moved back to the UK from Kenya with her family in recent years. She experienced an strong responsibility to look after the vines in the yard of their new home. "This plot has previously survived multiple proprietors," she explains. "I really like the concept of environmental care – of passing this on to future caretakers so they continue producing from the soil."

Terraced Gardens and Traditional Winemaking

A short walk away, the final two members of the collective are hard at work on the precipitous slopes of the local river valley. Jo Scofield has cultivated over 150 plants situated on ledges in her wild half-acre garden, which tumbles down towards the silty local waterway. "People are always surprised," she notes, indicating the tangled grape garden. "It's astonishing to them they can see grapevine lines in a city street."

Currently, Scofield, 60, is picking bunches of dusty purple dark berries from lines of plants slung across the cliff-side with the help of her daughter, Luca. The conservationist, a documentary producer who has contributed to Netflix's nature programming and television network's gardening shows, was motivated to cultivate vines after seeing her neighbor's vines. She has learned that hobbyists can produce interesting, enjoyable traditional vintage, which can command prices of upwards of seven pounds a glass in the increasing quantity of establishments focusing on minimal-intervention vintages. "It's just incredibly satisfying that you can actually create quality, natural wine," she says. "It is quite on trend, but in reality it's resurrecting an old way of producing wine."

"During foot-stomping the fruit, all the natural microorganisms are released from the skins and enter the juice," says the winemaker, partially submerged in a bucket of tiny stems, seeds and crimson juice. "This represents how vintages were historically produced, but commercial producers introduce preservatives to eliminate the natural cultures and subsequently add a commercially produced culture."

Difficult Environments and Inventive Approaches

A few doors down sprightly retiree another cultivator, who inspired Scofield to plant her grapevines, has gathered his friends to pick white wine varieties from the 100 plants he has arranged precisely across multiple levels. Reeve, a Lancashire-born PE teacher who taught at Bristol University cultivated an interest in wine on annual sporting trips to France. But it is a challenge to cultivate Chardonnay grapes in the humidity of the valley, with temperature fluctuations moving through from the nearby estuary. "I aimed to make French-style vintages here, which is a bit bonkers," admits Reeve with amusement. "This variety is late to ripen and particularly vulnerable to mildew."

"My goal was creating Burgundian wines here, which is rather ambitious"

The temperamental local weather is not the only problem encountered by grape cultivators. Reeve has had to erect a fence on