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Each 20 minutes or so, an ageing diesel train arrives at a graffiti-covered stop. Close by, a law enforcement alarm cuts through the almost continuous traffic drone. Commuters rush by collapsing, ivy-covered fencing panels as rain clouds gather.

It is maybe the last place you expect to find a perfectly formed grape-growing plot. But James Bayliss-Smith has managed to four dozen established plants sagging with plump mauve grapes on a rambling allotment situated between a line of 1930s houses and a local rail line just above Bristol town centre.

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

The cameraman, 46, a documentary cameraman who runs a fermented beverage company, is among several local vintner. He has pulled together a loose collective of cultivators who make vintage from several discreet urban vineyards tucked away in back gardens and community plots across the city. It is too clandestine to have an official name yet, but the group's WhatsApp group is called Grape Expectations.

Urban Vineyards Around the Globe

So far, the grower's plot is the sole location registered in the Urban Vineyards Association's forthcoming world atlas, which includes better-known urban wineries such as the 1,800 vines on the hillsides of Paris's renowned Montmartre area and more than three thousand vines overlooking and inside Turin. Based in Italy charitable organization is at the forefront of a initiative reviving city vineyards in traditional winemaking countries, but has discovered them all over the globe, including urban centers in Japan, Bangladesh and Uzbekistan.

"Grape gardens assist cities stay greener and ecologically varied. These spaces protect land from development by establishing permanent, yielding farming plots within urban environments," explains the organization's leader.

Like all wines, those created in urban areas are a product of the earth the vines grow in, the unpredictability of the climate and the individuals who care for the fruit. "Each vintage represents the charm, community, environment and heritage of a city," adds the spokesperson.

Mystery Eastern European Grapes

Back in the city, the grower is in a urgent timeline to harvest the grapevines he grew from a cutting abandoned in his garden by a Polish family. If the precipitation comes, then the pigeons may seize their chance to feast again. "This is the mystery Eastern European grape," he comments, as he removes damaged and mouldy grapes from the glistering clusters. "We don't really know what variety they are, but they're definitely hardy. In contrast to premium grapes – Pinot Noir, Chardonnay and other famous French grapes – you need not spray them with pesticides ... this could be a unique cultivar that was developed by the Soviets."

Collective Efforts Throughout Bristol

The other members of the group are also taking advantage of bright periods between bursts of fall precipitation. On the terrace with views of the city's shimmering harbour, where historic trading ships once bobbed with barrels of vintage from France and Spain, Katy Grant is collecting her dark berries from approximately 50 plants. "I love the aroma of the grapevines. The scent is so reminiscent," she remarks, pausing with a basket of fruit slung over her shoulder. "It's the scent of Provence when you open the car windows on vacation."

The humanitarian worker, fifty-two, who has spent over 20 years working for humanitarian organizations in war-torn regions, unexpectedly inherited the grape garden when she moved back to the UK from East Africa with her household in recent years. She felt an strong responsibility to maintain the vines in the yard of their new home. "This plot has already endured multiple proprietors," she says. "I really like the concept of natural stewardship – of handing this down to future caretakers so they can keep cultivating from this land."

Terraced Vineyards and Natural Production

Nearby, the final two members of the group are hard at work on the steep inclines of Avon Gorge. Jo Scofield has established more than one hundred fifty plants perched on ledges in her wild half-acre garden, which tumbles down towards the muddy local waterway. "Visitors frequently express amazement," she notes, indicating the tangled vineyard. "It's astonishing to them they are viewing grapevine lines in a city street."

Today, Scofield, 60, is picking clusters of dusty purple Rondo grapes from lines of vines arranged along the hillside with the help of her daughter, Luca. Scofield, a documentary producer who has worked on streaming service's Great National Parks series and television network's gardening shows, was motivated 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 upwards of £7 a glass in the increasing quantity of establishments focusing on minimal-intervention vintages. "It is deeply rewarding that you can actually make quality, traditional vintage," she says. "It's very fashionable, but in reality it's resurrecting an old way of making vintage."

"During foot-stomping the fruit, the various wild yeasts come off the surfaces into the juice," explains Scofield, ankle deep in a container of small branches, seeds and red liquid. "That's how wines were historically produced, but industrial wineries introduce preservatives to kill the wild yeast and subsequently add a lab-grown culture."

Challenging Environments and Inventive Approaches

A few doors down sprightly retiree Bob Reeve, who inspired his neighbor to establish her grapevines, has gathered his friends to pick Chardonnay grapes from one hundred plants he has arranged precisely across multiple levels. Reeve, a Lancashire-born physical education instructor who taught at the local university cultivated an interest in viticulture on annual sporting trips to Europe. But it is a difficult task to grow Chardonnay grapes in the dampness of the gorge, with temperature fluctuations moving through from the nearby estuary. "I aimed to make Burgundian wines in this location, which is a bit bonkers," admits the retiree with a smile. "Chardonnay is slow-maturing 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 sole challenge encountered by grape cultivators. The gardener has had to install a barrier on