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Every quarter of an hour or so, an older diesel train arrives at a graffiti-covered stop. Nearby, a police siren cuts through the near-constant road noise. Commuters hurry past collapsing, ivy-covered garden fences as storm clouds gather.

It is maybe the last place you expect to find a well-established vineyard. But one local grower has cultivated 40 mature vines heavy with plump purplish berries on a sprawling allotment sandwiched between a line of 1930s houses and a commuter railway just above Bristol town centre.

"I've noticed people concealing illegal substances or other items in those bushes," says Bayliss-Smith. "But you just get on with it ... and keep tending to your vines."

The cameraman, forty-six, a filmmaker who runs a fermented beverage company, is not the only urban winemaker. He's organized a informal group of growers who make vintage from several hidden city grape gardens nestled in private yards and community plots across Bristol. The project is too clandestine to possess an formal title so far, but the group's WhatsApp group is named Vineyard Dreams.

Urban Vineyards Across the Globe

So far, Bayliss-Smith's allotment is the only one listed in the City Vineyard Network's upcoming global directory, which features better-known urban wineries such as the 1,800 vines on the slopes of the French capital's renowned Montmartre neighbourhood and more than three thousand vines overlooking and inside Turin. The Italian-based charitable organization is at the forefront of a initiative reviving city vineyards in traditional winemaking countries, but has identified them throughout the globe, including cities in East Asia, Bangladesh and Central Asia.

"Vineyards assist cities stay greener and ecologically varied. These spaces preserve land from development by establishing permanent, productive farming plots inside cities," explains the organization's leader.

Like all wines, those produced in urban areas are a result of the earth the vines thrive in, the unpredictability of the climate and the individuals who tend the fruit. "A bottle of wine represents the charm, community, environment and heritage of a urban center," adds the president.

Unknown Eastern European Grapes

Returning to Bristol, the grower is in a race against time to gather the grapevines he grew from a plant left in his garden by a Polish family. Should the precipitation arrives, then the birds may take advantage to attack again. "This is the mystery Eastern European grape," he says, as he removes damaged and rotten grapes from the shimmering clusters. "We don't really know what variety they are, but they are certainly disease-resistant. Unlike premium grapes – Burgundy grapes, white wine grapes and additional renowned French grapes – you need not spray them with chemicals ... this is possibly a special variety that was developed by the Eastern Bloc."

Group Efforts Throughout the City

The other members of the group are additionally making the most of sunny interludes between showers of autumn rain. At a rooftop garden overlooking Bristol's glistening waterfront, where medieval merchant vessels once floated with barrels of wine from France and the Iberian peninsula, one cultivator is collecting her rondo grapes from approximately fifty plants. "I love the smell of these vines. The scent is so evocative," she says, pausing with a container of fruit resting on her arm. "It's the scent of Provence when you open the vehicle windows on holiday."

The humanitarian worker, fifty-two, who has devoted more than 20 years working for humanitarian organizations in conflict zones, 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 maintain the vines in the garden of their new home. "This plot has already survived multiple proprietors," she explains. "I deeply appreciate the idea of natural stewardship – of passing this on to someone else so they keep cultivating from the soil."

Sloping Vineyards and Natural Production

Nearby, the remaining cultivators of the collective are busily laboring on the precipitous slopes of the local river valley. One filmmaker has established more than 150 vines 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 rows of vines in a city street."

Currently, the filmmaker, sixty, is picking clusters of dusty purple Rondo grapes from rows of plants arranged along the hillside with the assistance of her daughter, her family member. The conservationist, a wildlife and conservation film-maker who has worked on Netflix's Great National Parks series and BBC Two's gardening shows, was motivated to plant grapes after seeing her neighbour's vines. She's discovered that hobbyists can produce intriguing, enjoyable natural wine, which can command prices of upwards of £7 a glass in the increasing quantity of establishments specialising in minimal-intervention wines. "It is incredibly satisfying that you can actually create quality, traditional vintage," she states. "It is quite fashionable, but in reality it's resurrecting an traditional method of making vintage."

"When I tread the fruit, the various natural microorganisms come off the surfaces into the liquid," says Scofield, ankle deep in a container of small branches, seeds and crimson juice. "This represents how vintages were made traditionally, but commercial producers add sulphur [dioxide] to kill the natural cultures and subsequently add a lab-grown yeast."

Difficult Environments and Inventive Approaches

A few doors down active senior Bob Reeve, who motivated his neighbor to establish her vines, has assembled his companions to pick white wine varieties from the 100 plants he has arranged precisely across two terraces. The former teacher, a Lancashire-born PE teacher who taught at the local university cultivated an interest in wine on regular visits to Europe. However it is a challenge to grow Chardonnay grapes in the humidity of the valley, with temperature fluctuations sweeping in and out from the nearby estuary. "I wanted to produce Burgundian wines in this location, which is somewhat ambitious," admits Reeve with a smile. "This variety is slow-maturing and very sensitive to mildew."

"I wanted to make Burgundian wines here, which is a bit bonkers"

The unpredictable Bristol climate is not the only problem faced by winegrowers. Reeve has been compelled to erect a barrier on