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Each 20 minutes or so, an ageing diesel train pulls into a spray-painted station. Nearby, a law enforcement alarm cuts through the near-constant traffic drone. Commuters rush by falling apart, ivy-draped fencing panels as storm clouds form.

This is maybe the least likely spot you expect to find a well-established grape-growing plot. However one local grower has managed to 40 mature vines heavy with round purplish berries on a rambling garden plot sandwiched between a line of historic homes and a commuter railway just north of Bristol downtown.

"I've seen people hiding heroin or other items in those bushes," says the grower. "Yet you just get on with it ... and continue caring for your vines."

Bayliss-Smith, 46, a documentary cameraman who also has a fermented beverage company, is among several urban winemaker. He's pulled together a loose collective of growers who make wine from four hidden urban vineyards tucked away in back gardens and community plots across Bristol. The project is sufficiently underground to have an formal title yet, but the collective's messaging chat is called Vineyard Dreams.

City Vineyards Across the Globe

So far, the grower's allotment is the sole location listed in the City Vineyard Network's forthcoming world atlas, which includes better-known urban wineries such as the eighteen hundred vines on the slopes of Paris's historic artistic district neighbourhood and more than three thousand vines with views of and inside Turin. Based in Italy non-profit association is at the forefront of a movement reviving city vineyards in traditional winemaking countries, but has discovered them all over the world, including cities in Japan, South Asia and Central Asia.

"Vineyards help urban areas stay greener and more diverse. They preserve land from construction by establishing permanent, productive agricultural units inside urban environments," says the association's president.

Like all wines, those produced in urban areas are a result of the soils the vines thrive in, the vagaries of the weather and the people who tend the grapes. "A bottle of wine represents the charm, community, environment and heritage of a urban center," adds the president.

Unknown Eastern European Variety

Back in the city, the grower is in a race against time to gather the grapevines he grew from a plant left in his allotment by a Eastern European household. If the precipitation comes, then the birds may seize their chance to feast once more. "This is the mystery Eastern European grape," he says, as he cleans damaged and rotten berries from the shimmering clusters. "The variety remains uncertain their exact classification, but they're definitely hardy. Unlike premium grapes – Burgundy grapes, Chardonnay and additional renowned European varieties – you need not spray them with pesticides ... this could be a special variety that was developed by the Soviets."

Collective Efforts Across the City

The other members of the group are additionally making the most of bright periods between bursts of autumn rain. On the terrace overlooking the city's shimmering harbour, where medieval merchant vessels once bobbed with casks of vintage from France and the Iberian peninsula, one cultivator is collecting her rondo grapes from about fifty vines. "I love the aroma of these vines. It is so evocative," she says, pausing with a container of grapes resting on her arm. "It's the scent of Provence when you open the vehicle windows on vacation."

The humanitarian worker, 52, who has devoted more than two decades working for humanitarian organizations in war-torn regions, unexpectedly took over the grape garden when she moved back to the UK from East Africa with her household in 2018. She experienced an overwhelming duty to maintain the grapevines in the garden of their new home. "This vineyard has previously survived multiple proprietors," she explains. "I really like the idea of environmental care – of handing this down to future caretakers so they can keep cultivating from the soil."

Sloping Gardens and Traditional Production

A short walk away, the remaining cultivators of the collective are hard at work on the steep inclines of Avon Gorge. One filmmaker has established over 150 plants situated on terraces in her expansive property, which descends towards the silty local waterway. "People are always surprised," she says, gesturing towards the tangled grape garden. "It's astonishing to them they can see rows of vines in a urban neighborhood."

Currently, the filmmaker, 60, is harvesting clusters of dusty purple dark berries from rows of plants arranged along the hillside with the help of her daughter, Luca. The conservationist, a documentary producer who has worked on Netflix's Great National Parks series and television network's gardening shows, was motivated to plant grapes after observing her neighbor's vines. She's discovered that hobbyists can make interesting, pleasurable natural wine, which can sell for upwards of £7 a glass in the growing number of establishments specialising in low-processing vintages. "It is incredibly satisfying that you can actually make good, traditional vintage," she states. "It is quite on trend, but really it's resurrecting an traditional method of making vintage."

"During foot-stomping the fruit, the various natural microorganisms are released from the surfaces into the juice," explains Scofield, ankle deep in a container of tiny stems, seeds and crimson juice. "This represents how wines were made traditionally, but commercial producers introduce sulphur [dioxide] to kill the wild yeast and subsequently incorporate a commercially produced yeast."

Challenging Conditions and Inventive Solutions

In the immediate vicinity active senior another cultivator, who motivated his neighbor to plant her grapevines, has gathered his companions to pick Chardonnay grapes from the 100 vines he has arranged precisely across multiple levels. Reeve, a northern English physical education instructor who taught at the local university cultivated an interest in viticulture on annual sporting trips to Europe. But it is a challenge to cultivate this particular variety in the humidity of the valley, with temperature fluctuations moving through from the nearby estuary. "I aimed to make French-style vintages in this location, which is a bit bonkers," admits the retiree with amusement. "This variety is slow-maturing and very sensitive to fungal infections."

"I wanted to make Burgundian wines here, which is rather ambitious"

The temperamental Bristol climate is not the sole problem faced by winegrowers. Reeve has been compelled to install a fence on