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Each quarter of an hour or so, an ageing diesel-powered train arrives at a graffiti-covered stop. Nearby, a police siren pierces the near-constant traffic drone. Commuters hurry past falling apart, ivy-draped fencing panels as rain clouds gather.

This is maybe the last place you expect to find a well-established grape-growing plot. However James Bayliss-Smith has managed to 40 mature vines heavy with round purplish grapes on a sprawling allotment sandwiched between a line of historic homes and a commuter railway just above Bristol town centre.

"I've seen individuals hiding illegal substances or whatever in those bushes," says the grower. "Yet you simply continue ... and continue caring for your vines."

Bayliss-Smith, 46, a documentary cameraman who also has a kombucha drinks business, is not the only urban winemaker. He's pulled together a loose collective of growers who produce wine from several discreet city grape gardens tucked away in back gardens and community plots throughout the city. It is sufficiently underground to have an formal title so far, but the group's messaging chat is called Vineyard Dreams.

Urban Wine Gardens Across the Globe

To date, the grower's plot is the only one listed in the City Vineyard Network's forthcoming world atlas, which features better-known city vineyards such as the 1,800 plants on the hillsides of the French capital's historic artistic district neighbourhood and over 3,000 vines overlooking and inside Turin. Based in Italy charitable organization is at the vanguard of a initiative reviving city vineyards in historic wine-producing countries, but has discovered them all over the globe, including cities in Japan, Bangladesh and Central Asia.

"Vineyards help urban areas remain more eco-friendly and ecologically varied. These spaces preserve open space from construction by creating long-term, productive agricultural units within cities," explains the organization's leader.

Like all wines, those produced in cities are a result of the soils the vines thrive in, the unpredictability of the climate and the individuals who care for the fruit. "Each vintage represents the charm, local spirit, environment and heritage of a city," notes the president.

Unknown Eastern European Grapes

Back in Bristol, the grower is in a urgent timeline to harvest the vines he cultivated from a plant left in his allotment by a Polish family. Should the precipitation arrives, then the birds may seize their chance to attack again. "Here we have the mystery Polish variety," he comments, as he cleans damaged and mouldy berries from the shimmering clusters. "We don't really know what variety they are, but they're definitely disease-resistant. In contrast to noble varieties – Pinot Noir, white wine grapes and other famous French grapes – you don't have to treat them with pesticides ... this could be a special variety that was bred by the Soviets."

Collective Efforts Throughout the City

Additional participants of the group are also taking advantage of bright periods between bursts of autumn rain. On the terrace overlooking the city's shimmering waterfront, where historic trading ships once floated with casks of vintage from France and the Iberian peninsula, one cultivator is harvesting her rondo grapes from about fifty plants. "I adore the aroma of these vines. It is so reminiscent," she remarks, stopping with a container of fruit resting on her arm. "It recalls the fragrance of southern France when you open the car windows on holiday."

The humanitarian worker, fifty-two, who has devoted more than 20 years working for humanitarian organizations in war-torn regions, unexpectedly took over the grape garden when she moved back to the United Kingdom from East Africa with her household in 2018. She felt an strong responsibility to maintain the grapevines in the garden of their recently acquired property. "This vineyard has already survived multiple proprietors," she says. "I deeply appreciate the concept of natural stewardship – of handing this down to future caretakers so they keep cultivating from this land."

Terraced Vineyards and Traditional Production

Nearby, the remaining cultivators of the group are busily laboring on the steep inclines of the local river valley. One filmmaker has cultivated more than one hundred fifty plants situated on terraces in her expansive property, which descends towards the muddy River Avon. "Visitors frequently express amazement," she notes, gesturing towards the tangled grape garden. "It's astonishing to them they can see grapevine lines in a city street."

Today, Scofield, 60, is harvesting bunches of dusty purple Rondo grapes from lines of plants arranged along the cliff-side with the help of her daughter, her family member. The conservationist, a documentary producer who has worked on Netflix's Great National Parks series and television network's Gardeners' World, was motivated to cultivate vines after seeing her neighbour's grapevines. She has learned that hobbyists can make intriguing, pleasurable natural wine, which can sell for upwards of £7 a glass in the growing number of wine bars specialising in low-processing vintages. "It is deeply rewarding that you can actually create good, traditional vintage," she says. "It's very fashionable, but really it's resurrecting an old way of making wine."

"When I tread the grapes, all the natural microorganisms are released from the skins into the juice," says Scofield, ankle deep in a container of small branches, seeds and red liquid. "That's how wines were historically produced, but commercial producers add preservatives to kill the wild yeast and subsequently add a commercially produced yeast."

Challenging Environments and Creative Solutions

In the immediate vicinity sprightly retiree Bob Reeve, who inspired Scofield to plant her grapevines, has gathered his companions to pick Chardonnay grapes from the 100 vines he has arranged precisely across two terraces. The former teacher, a Lancashire-born PE teacher who taught at the local university developed a passion for viticulture on regular visits to France. But it is a challenge to grow this particular variety in the dampness of the gorge, with temperature fluctuations sweeping in and out from the nearby estuary. "I aimed to produce Burgundian wines here, which is a bit bonkers," admits Reeve with a smile. "This variety is late to ripen and very sensitive to mildew."

"I wanted to make European-style vintages here, which is rather ambitious"

The temperamental local weather is not the only problem encountered by grape cultivators. The gardener has been compelled to erect a barrier on