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Each quarter of an hour or so, an older diesel-powered railway carriage pulls into a graffiti-covered station. Nearby, a law enforcement alarm pierces the near-constant traffic drone. Commuters hurry past falling apart, ivy-covered garden fences as storm clouds gather.

This is perhaps the least likely spot you expect to find a perfectly formed grape-growing plot. But James Bayliss-Smith has managed to 40 mature vines heavy with plump mauve grapes on a sprawling allotment sandwiched between a row of 1930s houses and a commuter railway just north of Bristol downtown.

"I've noticed people concealing illegal substances or whatever in those bushes," states Bayliss-Smith. "But you just get on with it ... and keep tending to your grapevines."

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 discreet city grape gardens tucked away in private yards and community plots throughout Bristol. The project is sufficiently underground to have an official name yet, but the group's WhatsApp group is called Grape Expectations.

City Wine Gardens Around the Globe

To date, 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 plants on the slopes of the French capital's historic artistic district neighbourhood and over three thousand vines with views of and inside Turin. The Italian-based charitable organization is at the vanguard of a movement reviving urban grape cultivation in historic wine-producing countries, but has identified them all over the world, including urban centers in Japan, South Asia and Central Asia.

"Vineyards help cities remain greener and more diverse. These spaces protect open space from development by creating long-term, productive agricultural units within cities," explains the organization's leader.

Like all wines, those created in cities are a product of the soils the vines thrive in, the unpredictability of the climate and the people who care for the grapes. "A bottle of wine embodies the beauty, community, landscape and history of a urban center," notes the spokesperson.

Unknown Eastern European Variety

Returning to Bristol, Bayliss-Smith is in a urgent timeline to harvest the vines he cultivated from a cutting left in his allotment by a Polish family. If the rain comes, then the birds may take advantage to feast once more. "This is the mystery Polish grape," he says, as he cleans bruised and mouldy berries from the glistering bunches. "We don't really know their exact classification, but they're definitely hardy. Unlike noble varieties – Burgundy grapes, white wine grapes and other famous French grapes – you don't have to spray them with pesticides ... this is possibly a unique cultivar that was developed by the Eastern Bloc."

Collective Activities Across Bristol

Additional participants of the group are also making the most of sunny interludes between showers of fall precipitation. On the terrace with views of the city's shimmering harbour, where medieval merchant vessels once floated with casks of wine from France and Spain, one cultivator is harvesting her rondo grapes from approximately 50 vines. "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 Provence when you roll down the car windows on holiday."

The humanitarian worker, fifty-two, who has spent over two decades working for humanitarian organizations in war-torn regions, inadvertently inherited the vineyard when she returned to the UK from Kenya with her family in recent years. She felt an overwhelming duty to look after the grapevines in the garden of their new home. "This vineyard has previously survived three different owners," she explains. "I really like the idea of environmental care – of handing this down to someone else so they continue producing from the soil."

Sloping Vineyards and Natural Winemaking

A short walk away, the remaining cultivators of the collective are hard at work on the precipitous slopes of the local river valley. Jo Scofield has established over one hundred fifty vines situated on terraces in her expansive property, which descends towards the muddy River Avon. "People are always surprised," she says, indicating the tangled vineyard. "It's astonishing to them they can see grapevine lines in a city street."

Currently, Scofield, 60, is harvesting bunches of deep violet Rondo grapes from rows of plants arranged along the hillside with the help of her child, Luca. Scofield, a documentary producer who has contributed to Netflix's nature programming and television network's gardening shows, was inspired to plant grapes after seeing her neighbor's vines. She's discovered that hobbyists can make interesting, enjoyable traditional vintage, which can sell for upwards of seven pounds a serving in the increasing quantity of wine bars specialising in minimal-intervention vintages. "It is incredibly satisfying that you can actually create quality, traditional vintage," she says. "It is quite on trend, but in reality it's resurrecting an old way of producing wine."

"When I tread the fruit, all the wild yeasts are released from the skins into the juice," explains the winemaker, partially submerged 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 natural cultures and then add a commercially produced culture."

Difficult Environments and Creative Approaches

A few doors down sprightly retiree Bob Reeve, who inspired his neighbor to plant her vines, has gathered his friends to pick white wine varieties from the 100 vines he has arranged precisely across multiple levels. The former teacher, a Lancashire-born physical education instructor who taught at the local university developed a passion for viticulture on annual sporting trips to France. But it is a challenge to grow this particular variety in the humidity of the valley, with cooling tides moving through from the nearby estuary. "I aimed to make French-style vintages in this location, which is somewhat ambitious," says the retiree with a smile. "Chardonnay is late to ripen and particularly vulnerable to mildew."

"I wanted to make Burgundian wines here, which is a bit bonkers"

The unpredictable Bristol climate is not the sole problem encountered by grape cultivators. Reeve has had to erect a fence on