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Each quarter of an hour or so, an older diesel railway carriage pulls into a spray-painted stop. Close by, a police siren cuts through the almost continuous traffic drone. Daily travelers rush by collapsing, ivy-draped garden fences as storm clouds gather.

This is perhaps the least likely spot you expect to find a well-established vineyard. But James Bayliss-Smith has cultivated four dozen established plants sagging with round purplish berries on a sprawling allotment sandwiched between a row of historic homes and a commuter railway just above the city downtown.

"I've seen people hiding illegal substances or other items in those bushes," states Bayliss-Smith. "Yet you simply continue ... and continue caring for your grapevines."

The cameraman, 46, a filmmaker who also has a fermented beverage company, is not the only local vintner. He has pulled together a loose collective of growers who make vintage from four hidden city grape gardens nestled in back gardens and allotments throughout Bristol. The project is sufficiently underground to have an formal title yet, but the collective's WhatsApp group is called Vineyard Dreams.

Urban Wine Gardens Around the Globe

So far, Bayliss-Smith's plot is the only one registered in the Urban Vineyards Association's upcoming world atlas, which features better-known urban wineries such as the 1,800 vines on the slopes of the French capital's historic artistic district neighbourhood and over three thousand grapevines with views of and inside Turin. The Italian-based non-profit association is at the vanguard of a movement reviving urban grape cultivation in traditional winemaking countries, but has discovered them all over the world, including cities in East Asia, Bangladesh and Central Asia.

"Vineyards help urban areas stay more eco-friendly and ecologically varied. These spaces protect open space from construction by establishing permanent, yielding agricultural units within cities," explains the association's president.

Similar to other vintages, those created in cities are a product of the soils the vines thrive in, the vagaries of the climate and the people who tend the fruit. "Each vintage represents the beauty, local spirit, landscape and heritage of a urban center," adds the spokesperson.

Unknown Polish Variety

Returning to the city, the grower is in a race against time to harvest the vines he cultivated from a plant left in his allotment by a Polish family. Should the precipitation comes, then the pigeons may seize their chance to feast once more. "Here we have the mystery Eastern European grape," he says, as he cleans bruised and rotten berries from the shimmering bunches. "We don't really know their exact classification, but they are certainly disease-resistant. In contrast to noble varieties – Pinot Noir, Chardonnay and other famous French grapes – you need not spray them with chemicals ... this could be a unique cultivar that was bred by the Eastern Bloc."

Collective Efforts Throughout the City

The other members of the group are also taking advantage of bright periods between showers of autumn rain. On the terrace with views of Bristol's shimmering waterfront, where historic trading ships once floated with barrels of wine from France and the Iberian peninsula, one cultivator is collecting her dark berries from approximately 50 plants. "I adore the smell of these vines. The scent is so reminiscent," she says, stopping with a basket of grapes slung over her arm. "It's the scent of southern France when you open the car windows on vacation."

Grant, 52, who has spent over two decades working for humanitarian organizations in conflict zones, unexpectedly inherited the vineyard when she moved back to the UK from East Africa with her household in 2018. She felt an strong responsibility to look after the vines in the garden of their recently acquired property. "This vineyard has previously endured multiple proprietors," she explains. "I really like the concept of environmental care – of passing this on to future caretakers so they can keep cultivating from this land."

Terraced Vineyards and Traditional Production

Nearby, the remaining cultivators of the collective are hard at work on the steep inclines of the local river valley. Jo Scofield has cultivated over 150 vines perched on ledges in her wild half-acre garden, which descends towards the muddy River Avon. "People are always surprised," she says, gesturing towards the tangled vineyard. "They can't believe they are viewing grapevine lines in a city street."

Today, Scofield, 60, is harvesting clusters of deep violet dark berries from lines of plants arranged along the cliff-side with the assistance of her daughter, her family member. The conservationist, a wildlife and conservation film-maker who has contributed to Netflix's nature programming and television network's Gardeners' World, was motivated to plant grapes after seeing her neighbor's vines. She's discovered that amateurs can make intriguing, enjoyable natural wine, which can sell for upwards of seven pounds a glass in the increasing quantity of wine bars focusing on low-processing vintages. "It is deeply rewarding that you can actually create quality, traditional vintage," she states. "It's very on trend, but really it's reviving an traditional method of making wine."

"During foot-stomping the grapes, all the wild yeasts are released from the skins and enter the juice," explains the winemaker, ankle deep in a container of small branches, pips and crimson juice. "That's how wines were historically produced, but industrial wineries introduce sulphur [dioxide] to eliminate the wild yeast and then incorporate a commercially produced yeast."

Difficult Environments and Creative Approaches

In the immediate vicinity sprightly retiree another cultivator, who motivated Scofield to plant her grapevines, has gathered his friends to pick white wine varieties from one hundred vines he has arranged precisely across multiple levels. Reeve, a northern English physical education instructor who taught at Bristol University developed a passion for viticulture on annual sporting trips to Europe. However it is a difficult task to cultivate Chardonnay grapes in the humidity of the valley, with temperature fluctuations moving through from the Bristol Channel. "I aimed to produce French-style vintages in this location, which is somewhat ambitious," says the retiree with a smile. "Chardonnay is late to ripen and very sensitive to mildew."

"My goal was creating Burgundian wines in this environment, which is a bit bonkers"

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