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Every quarter of an hour or so, an ageing diesel train arrives at a graffiti-covered stop. Close by, a police siren pierces the near-constant traffic drone. Commuters hurry past falling apart, ivy-draped garden fences as storm clouds form.

It is maybe the last place you anticipate to find a perfectly formed vineyard. But one local grower has cultivated 40 mature vines sagging with plump mauve berries on a sprawling allotment sandwiched between a row of historic homes and a commuter railway just north of Bristol town centre.

"I've noticed individuals concealing heroin or whatever in those bushes," says Bayliss-Smith. "Yet you simply continue ... and keep tending to your grapevines."

The cameraman, forty-six, a filmmaker who runs a kombucha drinks business, is not the only urban winemaker. He has organized a loose collective of cultivators who make wine from four hidden city grape gardens tucked away in back gardens and community plots throughout the city. It is too clandestine to possess an formal title yet, but the collective's messaging chat is called Vineyard Dreams.

City Vineyards Across the World

To date, the grower's plot is the sole location registered in the Urban Vineyards Association's upcoming world atlas, which features more famous urban wineries such as the eighteen hundred vines on the hillsides of Paris's renowned Montmartre area and over three thousand grapevines overlooking and inside the Italian city. Based in Italy charitable organization is at the vanguard of a initiative re-establishing urban grape cultivation in traditional winemaking nations, but has identified them throughout the world, including cities in East Asia, South Asia and Central Asia.

"Grape gardens assist urban areas stay more eco-friendly and ecologically varied. They protect land from construction by establishing long-term, productive farming plots inside urban environments," explains the association's president.

Like all wines, those created in urban areas are a result of the soils the vines thrive in, the unpredictability of the weather and the individuals who care for the grapes. "Each vintage embodies the beauty, local spirit, environment and history of a city," adds the president.

Mystery Polish Grapes

Returning to Bristol, the grower is in a race against time to gather the vines he cultivated from a plant abandoned in his garden by a Eastern European household. If the precipitation arrives, then the pigeons may take advantage to feast again. "Here we have the mystery Polish grape," he comments, as he cleans damaged and rotten grapes from the glistering bunches. "We don't really know their exact classification, but they are certainly hardy. In contrast to noble varieties – Burgundy grapes, white wine grapes and additional renowned French grapes – you don't have to spray them with pesticides ... this could be a unique cultivar that was developed by the Soviets."

Group Activities Throughout Bristol

The other members of the collective are additionally taking advantage of sunny interludes between bursts of autumn rain. At a rooftop garden with views of the city's shimmering harbour, where medieval merchant vessels once floated with casks of vintage from Europe and the Iberian peninsula, Katy Grant is collecting her rondo grapes from approximately 50 plants. "I adore the smell of the grapevines. The scent is so reminiscent," she remarks, stopping with a basket of grapes resting on her shoulder. "It's the scent of Provence when you roll down the vehicle windows on vacation."

The humanitarian worker, fifty-two, who has devoted more than two decades working for charitable groups in war-torn regions, unexpectedly inherited the vineyard when she moved back to the UK from Kenya with her household in recent years. She experienced an strong responsibility to look after the grapevines in the garden of their new home. "This plot has previously survived three different owners," she explains. "I really like the concept of natural stewardship – of handing this down to someone else so they can keep cultivating from this land."

Sloping Gardens and Natural Production

Nearby, the final two members of the group are hard at work on the precipitous slopes of Avon Gorge. Jo Scofield has cultivated over 150 plants perched on terraces in her expansive property, which descends towards the silty River Avon. "Visitors frequently express amazement," she says, gesturing towards the interwoven vineyard. "It's astonishing to them they can see grapevine lines in a urban neighborhood."

Today, the filmmaker, 60, is picking bunches of deep violet dark berries from rows of vines slung across the hillside with the help of her daughter, Luca. The conservationist, a wildlife and conservation film-maker who has worked on streaming service's nature programming and television network's Gardeners' World, was inspired to plant grapes after seeing her neighbour's grapevines. She has learned that amateurs can make interesting, enjoyable traditional vintage, which can sell for upwards of seven pounds a glass in the growing number of establishments focusing on minimal-intervention vintages. "It's just incredibly satisfying that you can truly create quality, traditional vintage," she states. "It is quite fashionable, but in reality it's reviving an traditional method of making wine."

"During foot-stomping the grapes, the various wild yeasts come off the surfaces into the liquid," explains the winemaker, partially submerged in a bucket of small branches, pips and crimson juice. "That's how wines were made traditionally, but commercial producers add preservatives to eliminate the natural cultures and then add a commercially produced culture."

Challenging Environments and Creative Approaches

A few doors down sprightly retiree Bob Reeve, who motivated Scofield to plant her vines, has assembled his friends to harvest white wine varieties from the 100 vines he has arranged precisely across two terraces. Reeve, a Lancashire-born PE teacher who worked at the local university cultivated an interest in viticulture on regular visits to France. However it is a difficult task to cultivate Chardonnay grapes in the dampness of the gorge, with cooling tides moving through from the Bristol Channel. "I wanted to produce Burgundian wines in this location, which is somewhat ambitious," says Reeve with amusement. "Chardonnay is late to ripen and particularly vulnerable to fungal infections."

"My goal was creating European-style vintages here, which is a bit bonkers"

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