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Every quarter of an hour or so, an ageing diesel-powered train arrives at a graffiti-covered stop. Nearby, a police siren cuts through the almost continuous road noise. Commuters rush by collapsing, ivy-covered fencing panels as rain clouds gather.

It is perhaps the least likely spot you anticipate to find a well-established grape-growing plot. However one local grower has managed to four dozen established plants heavy with plump purplish berries on a sprawling garden plot sandwiched between a row of 1930s houses and a local rail line just above the city downtown.

"I've seen people concealing heroin or other items in those bushes," states the grower. "But you just get on with it ... and continue caring for your vines."

Bayliss-Smith, forty-six, a filmmaker who also has a kombucha drinks business, is not the only local vintner. He's pulled together a informal group of cultivators who make wine from four hidden city grape gardens tucked away in back gardens and community plots throughout the city. The project is sufficiently underground to have an official name yet, but the collective's WhatsApp group is named Vineyard Dreams.

Urban Wine Gardens Across the World

So far, Bayliss-Smith's plot is the only one listed in the City Vineyard Network's forthcoming world atlas, which features more famous urban wineries such as the 1,800 vines on the hillsides of the French capital's renowned Montmartre area and over 3,000 grapevines overlooking and within the Italian city. The Italian-based non-profit association is at the vanguard of a movement reviving urban grape cultivation in historic wine-producing nations, but has identified them throughout the world, including cities in Japan, South Asia and Central Asia.

"Vineyards help cities remain greener and more diverse. These spaces protect land from development by creating permanent, productive agricultural units within urban environments," explains the organization's leader.

Like all wines, those produced in cities are a product of the soils the vines grow in, the vagaries of the weather and the individuals who tend the grapes. "Each vintage represents the beauty, community, environment and heritage of a city," adds the spokesperson.

Mystery Polish Variety

Back in the city, the grower is in a race against time to gather the grapevines he grew from a plant abandoned in his garden by a Polish family. If the rain comes, then the birds may seize their chance to attack again. "Here we have the mystery Eastern European variety," he says, as he removes bruised and rotten grapes from the glistering clusters. "The variety remains uncertain their exact classification, but they're definitely disease-resistant. Unlike noble varieties – Pinot Noir, Chardonnay and additional renowned French grapes – you don't have to spray them with chemicals ... this is possibly a special variety that was bred by the Eastern Bloc."

Group Efforts Across the City

Additional participants of the group are additionally making the most of bright periods between showers of autumn rain. At a rooftop garden with views of Bristol's shimmering harbour, where historic trading ships once floated with barrels of wine from Europe and the Iberian peninsula, Katy Grant is harvesting her rondo grapes from approximately 50 plants. "I adore the aroma of the grapevines. It is so evocative," she remarks, stopping with a container of grapes slung over her shoulder. "It recalls the fragrance of Provence when you open the vehicle windows on vacation."

Grant, 52, who has devoted more than 20 years working for humanitarian organizations in war-torn regions, unexpectedly 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 grapevines in the garden of their recently acquired property. "This plot has already survived multiple proprietors," she explains. "I deeply appreciate the concept of environmental care – of passing this on to future caretakers so they continue producing from the soil."

Sloping Vineyards and Traditional Winemaking

A short walk away, the remaining cultivators of the group are hard at work on the precipitous slopes of Avon Gorge. Jo Scofield has cultivated over 150 vines situated on terraces in her wild half-acre garden, which tumbles down towards the muddy local waterway. "Visitors frequently express amazement," she notes, indicating the interwoven grape garden. "They can't believe they are viewing rows of vines in a urban neighborhood."

Currently, the filmmaker, 60, is picking bunches of dusty purple dark berries from lines of plants arranged along the cliff-side with the help of her child, Luca. Scofield, a wildlife and conservation film-maker who has contributed to streaming service's Great National Parks series and television network's Gardeners' World, was inspired to plant grapes after seeing her neighbor's vines. She's discovered that amateurs can make interesting, enjoyable natural wine, which can command prices of more than seven pounds a glass in the growing number of wine bars focusing on minimal-intervention wines. "It is incredibly satisfying that you can actually create quality, natural wine," she states. "It is quite on trend, but really it's resurrecting an old way of producing wine."

"During foot-stomping the fruit, the various natural microorganisms come off the surfaces and enter the liquid," explains Scofield, partially submerged in a bucket of tiny stems, pips and crimson juice. "That's how vintages were historically produced, but commercial producers introduce preservatives to eliminate the wild yeast and then incorporate a lab-grown yeast."

Difficult Conditions and Inventive Approaches

In the immediate vicinity sprightly retiree another cultivator, who inspired his neighbor to plant her grapevines, has gathered his companions to pick white wine varieties from one hundred plants he has arranged precisely across two terraces. Reeve, a northern English PE teacher who worked at the local university developed a passion for viticulture on regular visits to France. However it is a difficult task to grow this particular variety in the humidity of the valley, with temperature fluctuations moving through from the Bristol Channel. "I wanted to make French-style vintages here, which is a bit bonkers," admits Reeve with a smile. "Chardonnay is slow-maturing and particularly vulnerable to mildew."

"I wanted to make European-style vintages here, which is rather ambitious"

The temperamental local weather is not the only problem faced by winegrowers. Reeve has been compelled to erect a barrier on