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Every quarter of an hour or so, an ageing diesel train pulls into a graffiti-covered stop. Close by, a law enforcement alarm cuts through the almost continuous traffic drone. Commuters rush by falling apart, ivy-covered fencing panels as rain clouds form.

It is perhaps the least likely spot you anticipate to find a well-established vineyard. But James Bayliss-Smith has managed to four dozen established plants sagging with plump purplish grapes on a rambling garden plot situated between a row of historic homes and a commuter railway just above Bristol town centre.

"I've noticed people concealing heroin or whatever in the shrubbery," says the grower. "But you simply continue ... and keep tending to your vines."

The cameraman, forty-six, a documentary cameraman who also has a kombucha drinks business, is among several urban winemaker. He's pulled together a informal group of cultivators who make vintage from several discreet urban vineyards nestled in back gardens and allotments across Bristol. The project is sufficiently underground to have an formal title so far, but the collective's WhatsApp group is named Grape Expectations.

Urban Wine Gardens Across the World

To date, Bayliss-Smith's allotment is the sole location registered in the Urban Vineyards Association's forthcoming global directory, which includes better-known urban wineries such as the 1,800 plants on the slopes of Paris's renowned Montmartre area and over 3,000 grapevines with views of and within Turin. The Italian-based charitable organization is at the vanguard of a movement reviving city vineyards in historic wine-producing nations, but has identified them all over the world, including cities in East Asia, South Asia and Central Asia.

"Grape gardens assist urban areas remain more eco-friendly and ecologically varied. They preserve open space from development by creating permanent, productive agricultural units inside urban environments," says the association's president.

Like all wines, those produced in urban areas are a product of the earth the plants thrive in, the unpredictability of the climate and the individuals who tend the grapes. "Each vintage represents the beauty, community, landscape and heritage of a urban center," adds the president.

Mystery Polish Grapes

Back in Bristol, Bayliss-Smith is in a race against time to gather the grapevines he grew from a cutting left in his allotment by a Eastern European household. If the precipitation comes, then the pigeons may seize their chance to attack once more. "Here we have the enigmatic Polish grape," he comments, as he removes bruised and rotten berries from the glistering clusters. "We don't really know what variety they are, but they're definitely hardy. In contrast to noble varieties – Burgundy grapes, white wine grapes and additional renowned French grapes – you need not spray them with chemicals ... this is possibly a unique cultivar that was bred by the Soviets."

Group Activities Across the City

Additional participants of the collective are additionally making the most of sunny interludes between bursts of autumn rain. At a rooftop garden with views of the city's shimmering waterfront, where medieval merchant vessels once floated with casks of wine from France and Spain, one cultivator is collecting her dark berries from about 50 vines. "I love the aroma of the grapevines. It is so evocative," she remarks, pausing with a basket of fruit resting on her arm. "It recalls the fragrance of southern France when you open the car windows on vacation."

The humanitarian worker, 52, who has devoted more than 20 years working for humanitarian organizations in war-torn regions, unexpectedly took over the grape garden when she returned to the UK from Kenya with her household in 2018. She experienced an overwhelming duty to maintain the grapevines in the yard of their new home. "This plot has previously survived three different owners," she explains. "I deeply appreciate the concept of natural stewardship – of passing this on to someone else so they continue producing from this land."

Terraced Gardens and Traditional Production

Nearby, the final two members of the group are hard at work on the precipitous slopes of Avon Gorge. One filmmaker has cultivated over 150 vines situated on ledges in her wild half-acre garden, which descends towards the silty local waterway. "People are always surprised," she says, gesturing towards the interwoven grape garden. "It's astonishing to them they are viewing rows of vines in a urban neighborhood."

Today, the filmmaker, sixty, is picking bunches of dusty purple dark berries from lines of vines arranged along the cliff-side with the assistance of her child, Luca. The conservationist, a documentary producer who has worked on streaming service's Great National Parks series and BBC Two's Gardeners' World, was motivated to cultivate vines after seeing her neighbor's vines. She's discovered that hobbyists can make intriguing, pleasurable traditional vintage, which can sell for more than £7 a glass in the increasing quantity of establishments focusing on low-processing wines. "It's just incredibly satisfying that you can actually make quality, natural wine," she says. "It's very fashionable, but really it's reviving an old way of producing vintage."

"During foot-stomping the grapes, the various wild yeasts come off the skins and enter the liquid," says the winemaker, ankle deep in a container of small branches, seeds and crimson juice. "That's how vintages were historically produced, but industrial wineries add sulphur [dioxide] to kill the wild yeast and then add a lab-grown culture."

Difficult Conditions and Creative Approaches

In the immediate vicinity sprightly retiree Bob Reeve, who inspired his neighbor to establish her grapevines, has assembled his friends to harvest Chardonnay grapes from one hundred vines he has laid out neatly across two terraces. The former teacher, a northern English physical education instructor who taught at Bristol University cultivated an interest in wine on annual sporting trips to Europe. But it is a difficult task to cultivate Chardonnay grapes in the humidity of the valley, with cooling tides sweeping in and out from the nearby estuary. "I wanted to make French-style vintages here, which is a bit bonkers," admits Reeve with a smile. "Chardonnay is late to ripen and very sensitive to mildew."

"I wanted to make Burgundian wines in this environment, which is rather ambitious"

The unpredictable local weather is not the sole problem faced by winegrowers. Reeve has been compelled to install a fence on