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Each 20 minutes or so, an ageing diesel railway carriage arrives at a spray-painted station. Close by, a police siren cuts through the near-constant traffic drone. Commuters rush by falling apart, ivy-covered garden fences as rain clouds form.

It is maybe the last place you expect to find a perfectly formed vineyard. But James Bayliss-Smith has cultivated 40 mature vines heavy with round mauve grapes on a sprawling allotment sandwiched between a row of historic homes and a commuter railway just north of Bristol downtown.

"I've seen individuals hiding heroin or whatever in the shrubbery," says Bayliss-Smith. "Yet you just get on with it ... and keep tending to your grapevines."

The cameraman, 46, a filmmaker who also has a kombucha drinks business, is not the only local vintner. He has organized a informal group of growers who make wine from four discreet city grape gardens nestled in back gardens and allotments throughout Bristol. The project is too clandestine to have an formal title yet, but the group's messaging chat is named Vineyard Dreams.

City Vineyards Around the World

So far, the grower's allotment is the only one listed in the Urban Vineyards Association's upcoming global directory, which includes better-known city vineyards such as the 1,800 vines on the slopes of Paris's historic Montmartre neighbourhood and over 3,000 vines with views of and within Turin. Based in Italy charitable organization is at the vanguard of a movement re-establishing city vineyards in traditional winemaking countries, but has discovered them all over the world, including urban centers in East Asia, Bangladesh and Central Asia.

"Grape gardens help urban areas stay greener and more diverse. They preserve land from development by establishing long-term, yielding farming plots within cities," says the association's president.

Like all wines, those produced in cities are a product of the soils the plants thrive in, the unpredictability of the climate and the people who tend the grapes. "Each vintage represents the beauty, local spirit, landscape and history of a city," notes the president.

Unknown Polish Grapes

Back in Bristol, the grower is in a race against time to gather the vines he grew from a cutting left in his allotment by a Polish family. If the precipitation arrives, then the birds may take advantage to feast once more. "This is the enigmatic Eastern European variety," he says, as he removes damaged and mouldy berries from the shimmering clusters. "The variety remains uncertain what variety they are, but they're definitely hardy. Unlike premium grapes – Burgundy grapes, Chardonnay and additional renowned European varieties – you need not treat them with pesticides ... this could be a unique cultivar that was bred by the Eastern Bloc."

Collective Activities Across the City

The other members of the group are also taking advantage of sunny interludes between showers of fall precipitation. At a rooftop garden overlooking the city's glistening harbour, where medieval merchant vessels once bobbed with barrels of wine from Europe and the Iberian peninsula, Katy Grant is harvesting her dark berries from approximately fifty vines. "I love the smell of the grapevines. It is so reminiscent," she remarks, stopping with a container of grapes slung over her shoulder. "It recalls the fragrance of Provence when you roll down the vehicle windows on holiday."

The humanitarian worker, 52, who has spent over 20 years working for humanitarian organizations in conflict zones, unexpectedly inherited the vineyard when she moved back to the United Kingdom from Kenya with her household in 2018. She felt an strong responsibility to maintain the grapevines in the yard of their recently acquired property. "This plot has previously endured multiple proprietors," she says. "I really like the concept of natural stewardship – of handing this down to someone else so they can continue producing from this land."

Terraced Vineyards and Natural Production

Nearby, the remaining cultivators of the group are hard at work on the precipitous slopes of Avon Gorge. Jo Scofield has cultivated more than 150 vines perched on ledges in her expansive property, which tumbles down towards the silty local waterway. "Visitors frequently express amazement," she says, indicating the interwoven vineyard. "It's astonishing to them they are viewing grapevine lines in a city street."

Currently, Scofield, sixty, is picking clusters of dusty purple dark berries from rows of plants arranged along the cliff-side with the help of her child, her family member. Scofield, a wildlife and conservation film-maker who has worked on Netflix's Great National Parks series and BBC Two's Gardeners' World, was motivated to plant grapes after seeing her neighbor's vines. She's discovered that hobbyists can produce intriguing, enjoyable traditional vintage, which can command prices of upwards of seven pounds a glass in the growing number of establishments specialising in low-processing wines. "It is deeply rewarding that you can actually make quality, traditional vintage," she says. "It's very on trend, but in reality it's reviving an traditional method of producing vintage."

"During foot-stomping the fruit, the various natural microorganisms are released from the skins into the liquid," says Scofield, ankle deep in a container of small branches, pips and crimson juice. "This represents how vintages were made traditionally, but commercial producers add preservatives to eliminate the natural cultures and then add a lab-grown culture."

Challenging Conditions and Creative Approaches

In the immediate vicinity sprightly retiree Bob Reeve, who motivated his neighbor to plant her grapevines, has gathered his friends to harvest white wine varieties from the 100 plants he has arranged precisely across two terraces. The former teacher, a northern English physical education instructor who worked at Bristol University developed a passion for wine on annual sporting trips to Europe. However it is a challenge to cultivate Chardonnay grapes in the dampness of the gorge, with cooling tides sweeping in and out from the nearby estuary. "I wanted to make Burgundian wines in this location, which is a bit bonkers," admits the retiree with a smile. "Chardonnay is late to ripen and particularly vulnerable to fungal infections."

"My goal was creating Burgundian wines here, which is rather ambitious"

The temperamental Bristol climate is not the only problem faced by winegrowers. The gardener has had to erect a fence on