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Every quarter of an hour or so, an older diesel railway carriage arrives at a graffiti-covered stop. Nearby, a police siren pierces the near-constant road noise. Commuters hurry past falling apart, ivy-draped garden fences as storm clouds gather.

This 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 heavy with round mauve grapes on a rambling garden plot sandwiched between a row of 1930s houses and a commuter railway just above Bristol downtown.

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

Bayliss-Smith, forty-six, a filmmaker who also has a kombucha drinks business, is not the only urban winemaker. He's pulled together a informal group of cultivators who produce wine from four discreet urban vineyards tucked away in back gardens and community plots across the city. It is too clandestine to possess an official name so far, but the collective's messaging chat is named Grape Expectations.

Urban Vineyards Around the Globe

To date, Bayliss-Smith's plot is the only one listed in the City Vineyard Network's forthcoming global directory, which features more famous urban wineries such as the eighteen hundred plants on the hillsides of Paris's historic Montmartre area and over three thousand grapevines with views of and inside the Italian city. The Italian-based non-profit association is at the vanguard of a movement reviving urban grape cultivation in historic wine-producing countries, but has discovered them all over the world, including urban centers in Japan, Bangladesh and Uzbekistan.

"Vineyards help urban areas stay greener and ecologically varied. These spaces protect open space from construction by establishing permanent, productive farming plots within cities," explains the association's president.

Like all wines, those produced in urban areas are a product of the earth the vines thrive in, the vagaries of the climate and the people who tend the fruit. "Each vintage embodies the beauty, community, landscape and history of a city," notes the president.

Unknown Polish Variety

Returning to the city, Bayliss-Smith 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 rain arrives, then the birds may take advantage to attack again. "This is the enigmatic Polish grape," he says, as he removes bruised and rotten grapes from the glistering clusters. "The variety remains uncertain what variety they are, but they're definitely hardy. In contrast to noble varieties – Pinot Noir, Chardonnay and additional renowned French grapes – you need not spray them with pesticides ... this could be a special variety that was developed by the Soviets."

Collective Efforts Throughout Bristol

Additional participants of the group are additionally making the most of sunny interludes between bursts of fall precipitation. On the terrace with views of the city's shimmering harbour, where historic trading ships once bobbed with casks of wine from France and Spain, Katy Grant is harvesting her dark berries from about 50 vines. "I love the aroma of the grapevines. It is so reminiscent," she remarks, pausing with a basket of fruit slung over her shoulder. "It recalls the fragrance of southern France when you roll down the vehicle windows on holiday."

The humanitarian worker, fifty-two, who has spent over two decades working for humanitarian organizations in war-torn regions, inadvertently inherited the vineyard when she moved back to the UK from Kenya with her household in recent years. She felt an strong responsibility to look after the vines in the yard of their recently acquired property. "This vineyard has already survived multiple proprietors," she explains. "I deeply appreciate the idea of environmental care – of passing this on to someone else so they can keep cultivating from the soil."

Sloping Vineyards and Natural Winemaking

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 one hundred fifty plants perched on terraces in her expansive property, which tumbles down towards the muddy local waterway. "People are always surprised," she says, gesturing towards the tangled vineyard. "They can't believe they can see rows of vines in a city street."

Today, Scofield, 60, is picking bunches of deep violet Rondo grapes from lines of vines slung across the hillside with the assistance of her child, her family member. The conservationist, a documentary producer who has worked on streaming service's Great National Parks series and television network's Gardeners' World, was inspired to plant grapes after seeing her neighbor's grapevines. She has learned that hobbyists can make interesting, pleasurable natural wine, which can sell for more than £7 a glass in the growing number of establishments specialising in low-processing wines. "It is deeply rewarding that you can truly create good, natural wine," she says. "It is quite on trend, but in reality it's resurrecting an traditional method of producing wine."

"During foot-stomping the grapes, all the natural microorganisms come off the skins into the juice," says Scofield, ankle deep in a bucket of small branches, pips and red liquid. "That's how wines were historically produced, but commercial producers introduce sulphur [dioxide] to kill the natural cultures and subsequently add a commercially produced culture."

Challenging Conditions and Inventive Approaches

In the immediate vicinity active senior another cultivator, who motivated his neighbor to plant her vines, has assembled his companions to harvest Chardonnay grapes from the 100 plants he has laid out neatly across multiple levels. The former teacher, a Lancashire-born physical education instructor who taught at Bristol University cultivated an interest in viticulture on regular visits to France. However it is a difficult task to grow this particular variety in the dampness of the gorge, with temperature fluctuations moving through from the nearby estuary. "I aimed to produce French-style vintages here, which is a bit bonkers," admits Reeve with amusement. "This variety is slow-maturing and very sensitive to mildew."

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

The unpredictable Bristol climate is not the only problem faced by grape cultivators. Reeve has had to erect a fence on