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Every quarter of an hour or so, an older diesel railway carriage arrives at a spray-painted station. Nearby, a law enforcement alarm pierces the near-constant traffic drone. Commuters hurry past falling apart, ivy-draped fencing panels as storm clouds gather.

It is maybe the least likely spot you anticipate to find a perfectly formed grape-growing plot. But one local grower has cultivated 40 mature vines heavy with plump purplish berries on a sprawling garden plot situated between a row of 1930s houses and a commuter railway just above the city town centre.

"I've seen people concealing heroin or whatever in those bushes," says Bayliss-Smith. "Yet you simply continue ... and continue caring for your vines."

The cameraman, 46, a documentary cameraman who also has a kombucha drinks business, is not the only urban winemaker. He has pulled together a loose collective of growers who make wine from four hidden urban vineyards nestled in back gardens and community plots throughout the city. It is too clandestine to have an official name yet, but the group's WhatsApp group is named Vineyard Dreams.

City Wine Gardens Around the Globe

To date, Bayliss-Smith's plot is the sole location registered in the Urban Vineyards Association's forthcoming global directory, which features more famous city vineyards such as the 1,800 vines on the hillsides of the French capital's renowned Montmartre neighbourhood and over three thousand vines with views of and within the Italian city. The Italian-based non-profit association is at the vanguard of a initiative reviving city vineyards in historic wine-producing nations, but has discovered them throughout the globe, including cities in East Asia, Bangladesh and Uzbekistan.

"Vineyards assist cities stay greener and ecologically varied. They preserve land from construction by establishing long-term, productive farming plots inside cities," says the association's president.

Similar to other vintages, those produced in urban areas are a result of the earth the vines grow in, the vagaries of the climate and the individuals who tend the fruit. "A bottle of wine embodies the charm, local spirit, landscape and history of a city," notes the president.

Mystery Polish Grapes

Returning to the city, Bayliss-Smith is in a race against time to gather the vines he grew from a cutting left in his allotment by a Eastern European household. If the rain comes, then the pigeons may take advantage to feast once more. "This is the mystery Polish grape," he says, as he cleans bruised and rotten berries from the shimmering clusters. "We don't really know their exact classification, but they are certainly hardy. Unlike premium grapes – Pinot Noir, Chardonnay and other famous French grapes – you need not spray them with chemicals ... this is possibly a special variety that was developed by the Soviets."

Group Efforts Across Bristol

The other members of the group are also taking advantage of bright periods between showers of autumn rain. At a rooftop garden overlooking the city's glistening waterfront, where medieval merchant vessels once bobbed with casks of vintage from Europe and the Iberian peninsula, Katy Grant is collecting her rondo grapes from approximately fifty plants. "I adore the smell of these vines. It is so evocative," she says, stopping with a basket of grapes resting on her arm. "It's the scent of southern France when you open the vehicle windows on holiday."

Grant, fifty-two, who has spent over two decades working for charitable groups in conflict zones, unexpectedly took over the grape garden when she moved back to the United Kingdom from East Africa with her household in 2018. She experienced an strong responsibility to look after the grapevines in the garden of their recently acquired property. "This vineyard has previously endured multiple proprietors," she says. "I deeply appreciate the idea of natural stewardship – of handing this down to future caretakers so they continue producing from the soil."

Sloping Gardens and Natural Winemaking

Nearby, the final two members of the collective are busily laboring on the steep inclines of Avon Gorge. One filmmaker has established over one hundred fifty plants situated on terraces in her wild half-acre garden, which descends towards the muddy River Avon. "Visitors frequently express amazement," she notes, indicating the tangled vineyard. "It's astonishing to them they can see rows of vines in a urban neighborhood."

Currently, Scofield, 60, is picking clusters of dusty purple dark berries from rows of vines arranged along the hillside with the help of her child, her family member. Scofield, a wildlife and conservation film-maker who has worked on streaming service's nature programming and BBC Two's gardening shows, was inspired to plant grapes after observing her neighbor's grapevines. She has learned that hobbyists can produce interesting, pleasurable natural wine, which can command prices of upwards of £7 a serving in the increasing quantity of wine bars focusing on minimal-intervention vintages. "It is deeply rewarding that you can actually create quality, traditional vintage," she states. "It's very on trend, but really it's resurrecting an old way of producing vintage."

"During foot-stomping the grapes, the various wild yeasts come off the skins and enter the liquid," explains Scofield, partially submerged in a container of small branches, pips and red liquid. "That's how vintages were historically produced, but commercial producers add sulphur [dioxide] to kill the wild yeast and then incorporate a lab-grown culture."

Challenging Environments and Creative Approaches

A few doors down active senior another cultivator, who motivated his neighbor to plant her vines, has assembled his companions to pick white wine varieties from one hundred plants he has laid out neatly across multiple levels. Reeve, a Lancashire-born PE teacher who taught at the local university cultivated an interest in wine on regular visits to Europe. But it is a difficult task to cultivate this particular variety in the humidity of the gorge, with temperature fluctuations sweeping in and out from the nearby estuary. "I aimed to produce French-style vintages in this location, which is somewhat ambitious," admits Reeve with amusement. "Chardonnay is slow-maturing and very sensitive to mildew."

"My goal was creating European-style vintages in this environment, which is rather ambitious"

The unpredictable local weather is not the sole challenge encountered by winegrowers. Reeve has had to erect a barrier on