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Every quarter of an hour or so, an ageing diesel railway carriage pulls into a spray-painted station. Nearby, a law enforcement alarm pierces the near-constant traffic drone. Daily travelers hurry past falling apart, ivy-covered garden fences as rain clouds form.

It is maybe the least likely spot you expect to find a perfectly formed grape-growing plot. However James Bayliss-Smith has managed to four dozen established plants sagging with round mauve berries on a sprawling garden plot situated between a line of historic homes and a commuter railway just above Bristol downtown.

"I've noticed individuals hiding heroin or other items in the shrubbery," says Bayliss-Smith. "Yet you simply continue ... and keep tending to your grapevines."

Bayliss-Smith, 46, a documentary cameraman who runs a kombucha drinks business, is among several urban winemaker. He's organized a loose collective of growers who produce wine from four discreet urban vineyards tucked away in private yards and allotments across Bristol. The project is too clandestine to possess an formal title so far, but the collective's WhatsApp group is called Grape Expectations.

City Wine Gardens Across the World

To date, the grower's plot is the only one listed in the Urban Vineyards Association's upcoming world atlas, which includes more famous urban wineries such as the 1,800 plants on the hillsides of Paris's renowned artistic district area and over 3,000 grapevines with views of and within Turin. Based in Italy charitable organization is at the vanguard of a initiative re-establishing city vineyards in historic wine-producing nations, but has discovered them all over the globe, including cities in East Asia, South Asia and Uzbekistan.

"Grape gardens assist urban areas stay greener and ecologically varied. These spaces preserve land from development by creating permanent, productive farming plots within cities," says the organization's leader.

Like all wines, those created in urban areas are a result of the earth the vines grow in, the unpredictability of the climate and the people who care for the grapes. "A bottle of wine represents the beauty, community, environment and history of a city," adds the spokesperson.

Unknown Eastern European Grapes

Back in the city, Bayliss-Smith is in a race against time to harvest the vines he grew from a cutting left in his garden by a Eastern European household. Should the rain comes, then the pigeons may take advantage to feast again. "Here we have the mystery Eastern European grape," he comments, as he removes bruised and mouldy grapes from the glistering clusters. "The variety remains uncertain what variety they are, but they're definitely hardy. Unlike premium grapes – Pinot Noir, white wine grapes and additional renowned European varieties – you need not treat them with chemicals ... this is possibly a unique cultivar that was bred by the Eastern Bloc."

Group Efforts Across Bristol

The other members of the group are also taking advantage of bright periods between bursts of autumn rain. On the terrace with views of the city's glistening harbour, where medieval merchant vessels once floated with casks of wine from Europe and Spain, Katy Grant is harvesting her rondo grapes from approximately fifty plants. "I love the aroma of these vines. It is so reminiscent," she says, pausing with a basket of grapes resting on her shoulder. "It's the scent of southern France when you open the car windows on vacation."

The humanitarian worker, 52, who has spent over 20 years working for humanitarian organizations in conflict zones, inadvertently took over the vineyard when she returned to the UK from East Africa with her family in recent years. She experienced an strong responsibility to maintain the vines in the garden of their recently acquired property. "This vineyard has previously endured multiple proprietors," she explains. "I really like the concept of environmental care – of passing this on to someone else so they can continue producing from this land."

Terraced Vineyards and Natural Production

A short walk away, the remaining cultivators of the group are hard at work on the steep inclines of Avon Gorge. One filmmaker has cultivated over 150 vines perched on ledges in her expansive property, which descends towards the silty local waterway. "People are always surprised," she notes, gesturing towards the interwoven grape garden. "It's astonishing to them they can see grapevine lines in a city street."

Today, Scofield, sixty, is picking clusters of dusty purple Rondo grapes from lines of vines slung across the cliff-side with the assistance of her daughter, her family member. Scofield, a documentary producer who has contributed to Netflix's nature programming and BBC Two's gardening shows, was motivated to cultivate vines after observing her neighbour's grapevines. She has learned that amateurs can produce intriguing, pleasurable traditional vintage, which can command prices of more than seven pounds a glass in the increasing quantity of establishments specialising in low-processing wines. "It's just incredibly satisfying that you can actually make quality, traditional vintage," she states. "It's very fashionable, but in reality it's resurrecting an old way of making vintage."

"When I tread the fruit, all the natural microorganisms come off the skins and enter the juice," explains the winemaker, partially submerged in a bucket of tiny stems, pips and red liquid. "That's how vintages were historically produced, but commercial producers introduce preservatives to eliminate the natural cultures and then add a lab-grown culture."

Challenging Conditions and Inventive Approaches

A few doors down active senior another cultivator, who inspired Scofield to establish her vines, has gathered his friends to harvest Chardonnay grapes from the 100 vines he has arranged precisely across two terraces. Reeve, a northern English PE teacher who worked at Bristol University developed a passion for viticulture on regular visits to France. But it is a challenge to grow Chardonnay grapes in the dampness of the valley, with cooling tides sweeping in and out from the Bristol Channel. "I wanted to make French-style vintages here, which is a bit bonkers," admits Reeve with a smile. "Chardonnay is late to ripen and particularly vulnerable to mildew."

"My goal was creating Burgundian wines in this environment, which is rather ambitious"

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