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Every 20 minutes or so, an older diesel-powered train arrives at a spray-painted station. Close by, a police siren cuts through the almost continuous road noise. Daily travelers hurry past collapsing, ivy-covered fencing panels as rain clouds form.

This is perhaps the least likely spot you anticipate to find a perfectly formed grape-growing plot. But one local grower has managed to four dozen established plants heavy with round purplish grapes on a rambling allotment situated between a row of 1930s houses and a local rail line just above Bristol downtown.

"I've seen individuals concealing illegal substances or whatever in those bushes," says the grower. "Yet you simply continue ... and continue caring for your grapevines."

Bayliss-Smith, 46, a documentary cameraman who also has a kombucha drinks business, is among several local vintner. He's organized a loose collective of cultivators who produce wine from four discreet urban vineyards nestled in private yards and allotments throughout Bristol. The project is sufficiently underground to have an official name yet, but the collective's messaging chat is named Grape Expectations.

Urban Wine Gardens Around the World

So far, Bayliss-Smith's plot is the only one registered in the Urban Vineyards Association's forthcoming world atlas, which features better-known urban wineries such as the 1,800 plants on the slopes of the French capital's historic artistic district area and more than 3,000 grapevines with views of and inside Turin. Based in Italy non-profit association is at the vanguard of a movement re-establishing city vineyards in traditional winemaking nations, but has discovered them all over the world, including cities in East Asia, South Asia and Uzbekistan.

"Vineyards help urban areas remain greener and ecologically varied. These spaces protect open space from development by creating permanent, yielding agricultural units within urban environments," says the organization's leader.

Like all wines, those produced in urban areas are a product of the earth the vines thrive in, the unpredictability of the climate and the people who tend the fruit. "A bottle of wine embodies the beauty, community, environment and history of a urban center," adds the president.

Mystery Eastern European Variety

Back in Bristol, Bayliss-Smith is in a race against time to gather the vines he grew from a plant left in his garden by a Polish family. If the precipitation comes, then the pigeons may take advantage to feast again. "Here we have the enigmatic Polish variety," he comments, as he cleans damaged and rotten berries from the shimmering bunches. "We don't really know their exact classification, but they are certainly disease-resistant. In contrast to noble varieties – Pinot Noir, white wine grapes and additional renowned French grapes – you don't have to treat them with pesticides ... this could be a special variety that was developed by the Eastern Bloc."

Collective Activities Across Bristol

Additional participants of the collective are also taking advantage of bright periods between showers of autumn rain. On the terrace with views of the city's glistening waterfront, where historic trading ships once floated with barrels of vintage from Europe and Spain, Katy Grant is harvesting her rondo grapes from about 50 vines. "I adore the smell of the grapevines. The scent is so evocative," she remarks, pausing with a basket of fruit resting on her shoulder. "It recalls the fragrance of southern France when you open the vehicle windows on vacation."

Grant, fifty-two, who has spent over 20 years working for humanitarian organizations in conflict zones, inadvertently took over the vineyard when she moved back to the UK from East Africa with her household in recent years. She experienced an strong responsibility to maintain the grapevines in the garden of their recently acquired property. "This plot has already endured multiple proprietors," she explains. "I deeply appreciate the concept of natural stewardship – of handing this down to someone else so they continue producing from this land."

Terraced Gardens and Traditional Production

Nearby, the final two members of the group are busily laboring on the steep inclines of Avon Gorge. One filmmaker has cultivated over 150 vines situated on terraces in her wild half-acre garden, which descends towards the muddy local waterway. "People are always surprised," she notes, indicating the tangled vineyard. "It's astonishing to them they are viewing grapevine lines in a city street."

Currently, the filmmaker, sixty, is harvesting bunches of deep violet dark berries from rows of vines arranged along the hillside with the assistance of her child, her family member. Scofield, a documentary producer who has contributed to Netflix's nature programming and television network's gardening shows, was motivated to plant grapes after seeing her neighbor's vines. She's discovered that hobbyists can produce intriguing, enjoyable traditional vintage, which can command prices of upwards of seven pounds a glass in the increasing quantity of establishments specialising in low-processing vintages. "It is deeply rewarding that you can truly create good, traditional vintage," she says. "It is quite fashionable, but in reality it's resurrecting an old way of producing vintage."

"When I tread the grapes, all the natural microorganisms come off the surfaces into the juice," says Scofield, partially submerged in a bucket of tiny stems, seeds and red liquid. "This represents how vintages were historically produced, but industrial wineries introduce sulphur [dioxide] to eliminate the natural cultures and subsequently add a commercially produced yeast."

Difficult Conditions and Creative Approaches

A few doors down sprightly retiree Bob Reeve, who inspired Scofield to establish her grapevines, has gathered his companions to pick Chardonnay grapes from the 100 vines he has laid out neatly across two terraces. Reeve, a northern English physical education instructor who worked at the local university cultivated an interest in viticulture on annual sporting trips to Europe. However it is a difficult task to grow Chardonnay grapes in the dampness of the valley, with temperature fluctuations sweeping in and out from the nearby estuary. "I wanted to make French-style vintages here, which is a bit bonkers," admits Reeve with a smile. "Chardonnay is late to ripen 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 problem faced by winegrowers. The gardener has had to erect a barrier on