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Every quarter of an hour or so, an ageing diesel train arrives at a graffiti-covered station. Nearby, a police siren pierces the almost continuous road noise. Commuters rush by falling apart, ivy-draped garden fences as storm clouds form.

It is perhaps the least likely spot you anticipate to find a well-established grape-growing plot. But James Bayliss-Smith has cultivated four dozen established plants sagging with plump purplish grapes on a sprawling allotment situated between a line of 1930s houses and a commuter railway just above Bristol town centre.

"I've noticed people concealing illegal substances or whatever in those bushes," says Bayliss-Smith. "Yet you simply continue ... and continue caring for your vines."

Bayliss-Smith, forty-six, a documentary cameraman who also has a fermented beverage company, is not the only local vintner. He's pulled together a informal group of growers who produce wine from several hidden urban vineyards nestled in back gardens and allotments throughout the city. The project is too clandestine to possess an official name so far, but the collective's WhatsApp group is called Vineyard Dreams.

Urban Vineyards Across the World

So far, the grower's plot is the sole location listed in the Urban Vineyards Association's forthcoming global directory, which features better-known urban wineries such as the eighteen hundred plants on the slopes of the French capital's renowned artistic district neighbourhood and over three thousand vines with views of and within the Italian city. The Italian-based non-profit association is at the forefront of a initiative reviving urban grape cultivation in traditional winemaking countries, but has discovered them all over the world, including cities in East Asia, South Asia and Central Asia.

"Vineyards assist urban areas stay more eco-friendly and more diverse. These spaces protect open space from development by establishing permanent, productive farming plots within urban environments," explains the association's president.

Like all wines, those created in cities are a result of the soils the plants thrive in, the unpredictability of the climate and the individuals who care for the grapes. "A bottle of wine represents the charm, community, environment and history of a city," adds the president.

Unknown Eastern European Grapes

Back in Bristol, the grower is in a race against time to harvest the grapevines he grew from a cutting abandoned in his allotment by a Polish family. If the precipitation arrives, then the pigeons may seize their chance to attack again. "Here we have the enigmatic Polish variety," he says, as he cleans bruised and rotten berries from the shimmering clusters. "The variety remains uncertain their exact classification, but they're definitely disease-resistant. Unlike noble varieties – Pinot Noir, Chardonnay and other famous French grapes – you don't have to spray them with chemicals ... this could be a special variety that was developed by the Soviets."

Group Activities Across Bristol

Additional participants of the collective are also taking advantage of bright periods between bursts of fall precipitation. At a rooftop garden overlooking Bristol's shimmering harbour, where medieval merchant vessels once floated with barrels of vintage from Europe and the Iberian peninsula, Katy Grant is collecting her dark berries from about fifty plants. "I love the smell of these vines. It is so reminiscent," she remarks, pausing with a basket of fruit slung over her shoulder. "It recalls the fragrance of Provence when you roll down the car windows on vacation."

Grant, fifty-two, who has spent over 20 years working for charitable groups in war-torn regions, unexpectedly inherited the vineyard when she returned to the United Kingdom from Kenya with her family in recent years. She experienced an strong responsibility to look after the grapevines in the garden of their new home. "This plot has already endured multiple proprietors," she says. "I really like the idea of environmental care – of passing this on to someone else so they can continue producing from the soil."

Terraced Vineyards and Natural Production

A short walk away, the final two members of the collective are busily laboring on the precipitous slopes of the local river valley. One filmmaker has established more than 150 vines perched on terraces in her expansive property, which tumbles down towards the muddy River Avon. "Visitors frequently express amazement," she says, indicating the tangled grape garden. "It's astonishing to them they are viewing rows of vines in a city street."

Currently, the filmmaker, 60, is picking clusters of dusty purple dark berries from rows of vines arranged along the hillside with the assistance of her child, her family member. The conservationist, a documentary producer who has contributed to streaming service's Great National Parks series and BBC Two's gardening shows, was motivated to cultivate vines after seeing her neighbor's grapevines. She has learned that hobbyists can make interesting, enjoyable traditional vintage, which can sell for upwards of seven pounds a serving in the increasing quantity of establishments focusing on minimal-intervention vintages. "It is incredibly satisfying that you can actually create quality, traditional vintage," she says. "It's very on trend, but in reality it's resurrecting an old way of making vintage."

"During foot-stomping the grapes, all the natural microorganisms are released from the surfaces and enter the liquid," explains the winemaker, partially submerged in a bucket of tiny stems, pips and crimson juice. "That's how vintages were made traditionally, but industrial wineries introduce preservatives to eliminate the wild yeast and then incorporate a lab-grown culture."

Difficult Conditions and Creative Solutions

In the immediate vicinity active senior another cultivator, who motivated his neighbor to establish her grapevines, has gathered his friends to pick white wine varieties from one hundred vines he has laid out neatly across multiple levels. Reeve, a northern English PE teacher who worked at the local university cultivated an interest in viticulture on annual sporting trips to Europe. However it is a challenge to grow Chardonnay grapes in the humidity of the gorge, with temperature fluctuations sweeping in and out from the Bristol Channel. "I wanted to make French-style vintages here, which is somewhat ambitious," says Reeve with a smile. "This variety is late to ripen and particularly vulnerable to fungal infections."

"I wanted to make Burgundian wines here, which is rather ambitious"

The temperamental Bristol climate is not the only challenge faced by grape cultivators. Reeve has had to install a barrier on