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Every 20 minutes or so, an ageing diesel-powered railway carriage arrives at a spray-painted stop. Close by, a law enforcement alarm pierces the near-constant traffic drone. Commuters rush by collapsing, ivy-covered fencing panels as storm clouds form.

It is maybe the least likely spot you expect to find a perfectly formed grape-growing plot. But James Bayliss-Smith has cultivated 40 mature vines heavy with plump mauve berries on a sprawling allotment sandwiched between a row of historic homes and a commuter railway just above Bristol downtown.

"I've seen individuals hiding illegal substances or other items in the shrubbery," says the grower. "Yet you simply continue ... and keep tending to your grapevines."

The cameraman, forty-six, a filmmaker who also has a kombucha drinks business, is among several urban winemaker. He's pulled together a informal group of cultivators who make vintage from several hidden urban vineyards nestled in back gardens and allotments across Bristol. It is too clandestine to have an formal title so far, but the collective's messaging chat is named Grape Expectations.

City Vineyards Around the World

So far, the grower's plot is the only one listed in the Urban Vineyards Association's forthcoming global directory, which features better-known city vineyards such as the eighteen hundred plants on the hillsides of Paris's historic Montmartre neighbourhood and over 3,000 vines overlooking and inside Turin. The Italian-based non-profit association is at the forefront of a initiative reviving city vineyards in historic wine-producing countries, but has identified them throughout the globe, including cities in Japan, South Asia and Uzbekistan.

"Vineyards assist urban areas remain more eco-friendly and more diverse. These spaces protect open space from development by establishing permanent, yielding farming plots inside urban environments," says the organization's leader.

Like all wines, those produced in cities are a result of the earth the plants thrive in, the vagaries of the climate and the individuals who tend the fruit. "A bottle of wine embodies the charm, local spirit, landscape and heritage of a urban center," notes the spokesperson.

Unknown Polish Variety

Returning to the city, the grower is in a race against time to harvest the vines he grew from a cutting abandoned in his allotment by a Polish family. If the precipitation comes, then the pigeons may take advantage to feast once more. "This is the enigmatic Eastern European variety," he comments, as he removes damaged and mouldy berries from the shimmering clusters. "The variety remains uncertain what variety they are, but they're definitely disease-resistant. In contrast to noble varieties – Pinot Noir, white wine grapes and other famous French grapes – you don't have to treat them with chemicals ... this is possibly a unique cultivar that was developed by the Eastern Bloc."

Collective Activities Throughout Bristol

The other members of the collective are additionally making the most of sunny interludes between bursts of fall precipitation. At a rooftop garden with views of the city's glistening waterfront, where medieval merchant vessels once bobbed with casks of vintage from Europe and the Iberian peninsula, one cultivator is harvesting her rondo grapes from about fifty plants. "I love the smell of these vines. It is so reminiscent," she says, stopping with a basket of grapes 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 20 years working for charitable groups in conflict zones, inadvertently inherited the vineyard when she returned to the United Kingdom from East Africa with her household in recent years. She experienced an overwhelming duty to maintain the vines in the garden of their new home. "This plot has previously endured three different owners," she says. "I really like the concept of natural stewardship – of passing this on to someone else so they can continue producing from this land."

Terraced Vineyards and Natural Production

Nearby, the final two members of the collective are hard at work on the precipitous slopes of the local river valley. One filmmaker has cultivated over 150 plants perched on ledges in her expansive property, which tumbles down towards the muddy local waterway. "Visitors frequently express amazement," she says, gesturing towards the interwoven vineyard. "It's astonishing to them they are viewing rows of vines in a city street."

Today, the filmmaker, 60, is harvesting clusters of dusty purple dark berries from rows of vines arranged along the hillside with the help of her child, Luca. The conservationist, a documentary producer who has contributed to streaming service's Great National Parks series and television network's gardening shows, was inspired to plant grapes after observing her neighbor's grapevines. She's discovered that hobbyists can produce interesting, enjoyable natural wine, which can command prices of more than £7 a serving in the increasing quantity of wine bars focusing on low-processing wines. "It is incredibly satisfying that you can truly make quality, traditional vintage," she says. "It is quite fashionable, but really it's resurrecting an traditional method of producing wine."

"During foot-stomping the grapes, all the natural microorganisms are released from the surfaces and enter the juice," explains the winemaker, ankle deep in a container of small branches, pips and red liquid. "That's how vintages were historically produced, but commercial producers add sulphur [dioxide] to kill the natural cultures and subsequently add a lab-grown culture."

Challenging Conditions and Creative Approaches

In the immediate vicinity sprightly retiree Bob Reeve, who motivated Scofield to establish her vines, has gathered his companions to harvest white wine varieties from one hundred plants he has laid out neatly across two terraces. The former teacher, a Lancashire-born physical education instructor who worked at Bristol University developed a passion for wine on annual sporting trips to France. But it is a challenge to cultivate this particular variety in the humidity of the valley, with cooling tides moving through from the Bristol Channel. "I aimed to make Burgundian wines here, which is a bit bonkers," admits Reeve with a smile. "This variety is late to ripen and particularly vulnerable to mildew."

"I wanted to make European-style vintages here, which is a bit bonkers"

The unpredictable Bristol climate is not the sole challenge faced by winegrowers. The gardener has been compelled to install a fence on