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Each quarter of an hour or so, an older diesel-powered train arrives at a spray-painted station. Nearby, a law enforcement alarm cuts through the near-constant road noise. Commuters rush by collapsing, ivy-draped fencing panels as rain clouds gather.

This is maybe the least likely spot you anticipate to find a perfectly formed grape-growing plot. But James Bayliss-Smith has managed to four dozen established plants heavy with round mauve berries on a sprawling garden plot situated between a line of historic homes and a local rail line just above Bristol town centre.

"I've noticed individuals hiding heroin or whatever in the shrubbery," says Bayliss-Smith. "Yet you just get on with it ... and continue caring for your vines."

Bayliss-Smith, forty-six, a documentary cameraman who also has a kombucha drinks business, is not the only urban winemaker. He has pulled together a loose collective of cultivators who make vintage from four discreet urban vineyards tucked away in back gardens and community plots across Bristol. The project is too clandestine to have an formal title so far, but the group's messaging chat is named Grape Expectations.

Urban Vineyards Around the Globe

To date, the grower's plot is the sole location listed in the City Vineyard Network's forthcoming global directory, which includes more famous urban wineries such as the 1,800 vines on the hillsides of Paris's historic Montmartre area and more than 3,000 vines with views of and within the Italian city. Based in Italy non-profit association is at the forefront of a movement re-establishing urban grape cultivation in traditional winemaking nations, but has identified them throughout the globe, including urban centers in Japan, South Asia and Uzbekistan.

"Vineyards assist cities remain more eco-friendly and ecologically varied. They preserve land from construction by creating permanent, yielding agricultural units within cities," explains the association's president.

Like all wines, those produced in cities are a result of the soils the plants thrive in, the unpredictability of the weather and the people who tend the grapes. "A bottle of wine represents the beauty, community, environment and heritage of a urban center," notes the spokesperson.

Unknown Eastern European Grapes

Returning to Bristol, Bayliss-Smith is in a urgent timeline to gather the grapevines he cultivated from a plant abandoned in his allotment by a Polish family. If the rain arrives, then the birds may seize their chance to attack again. "This is the mystery Polish variety," he comments, as he cleans bruised and rotten grapes from the glistering clusters. "We don't really know their exact classification, but they are certainly disease-resistant. Unlike premium grapes – Pinot Noir, Chardonnay and other famous European varieties – you don't have to spray them with pesticides ... this is possibly a special variety that was bred by the Soviets."

Group Efforts Throughout the City

The other members of the collective are also making the most of bright periods between showers of autumn rain. On the terrace overlooking Bristol's glistening waterfront, where historic trading ships once bobbed with casks of wine from France and Spain, one cultivator is harvesting her dark berries from approximately 50 vines. "I adore the aroma of these vines. The scent is so reminiscent," she says, stopping with a basket of fruit resting on her arm. "It recalls the fragrance of southern France when you open the car windows on holiday."

Grant, fifty-two, who has spent over two decades working for charitable groups in war-torn regions, inadvertently inherited the vineyard when she moved back to the United Kingdom from Kenya with her household in recent years. She experienced an strong responsibility to look after the grapevines in the garden of their recently acquired property. "This plot has already survived multiple proprietors," she explains. "I deeply appreciate the idea of natural stewardship – of passing this on to someone else so they can continue producing from this land."

Sloping Vineyards and Traditional Winemaking

A short walk away, the final two members of the collective are busily laboring on the steep inclines of Avon Gorge. Jo Scofield has established over 150 vines perched on ledges in her expansive property, which tumbles down towards the silty River Avon. "People are always surprised," she says, gesturing towards the interwoven grape garden. "It's astonishing to them they can see rows of vines in a city street."

Today, Scofield, 60, is picking clusters of dusty purple dark berries from lines of plants arranged along the hillside with the assistance of her child, Luca. The conservationist, a wildlife and conservation film-maker who has worked on Netflix's nature programming and television network's gardening shows, was inspired to cultivate vines 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 glass in the growing number of establishments focusing on low-processing wines. "It's just incredibly satisfying that you can actually make quality, natural wine," she states. "It is quite fashionable, but in reality it's reviving an traditional method of producing wine."

"During foot-stomping the grapes, the various natural microorganisms come off the surfaces into the juice," explains Scofield, partially submerged in a container of tiny stems, pips and crimson juice. "That's how wines were historically produced, but industrial wineries introduce preservatives to eliminate the wild yeast and subsequently incorporate a lab-grown culture."

Difficult Environments and Creative Approaches

In the immediate vicinity sprightly retiree Bob Reeve, who motivated Scofield to establish her grapevines, has gathered his companions to harvest white wine varieties from the 100 plants he has arranged precisely across multiple levels. Reeve, a Lancashire-born PE teacher who worked at Bristol University cultivated an interest in wine on regular visits to France. However it is a challenge to cultivate this particular variety in the dampness of the valley, with cooling tides moving through from the Bristol Channel. "I wanted to make French-style vintages in this location, which is somewhat ambitious," admits the retiree with amusement. "This variety is late to ripen and particularly vulnerable to mildew."

"My goal was creating European-style vintages in this environment, which is rather ambitious"

The temperamental Bristol climate is not the sole challenge encountered by winegrowers. Reeve has had to install a barrier on