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Each 20 minutes or so, an older diesel railway carriage pulls into a graffiti-covered stop. Nearby, a law enforcement alarm cuts through the near-constant traffic drone. Daily travelers rush by collapsing, ivy-draped fencing panels as storm clouds form.

This is maybe the least likely spot you expect to find a perfectly formed grape-growing plot. However one local grower has cultivated 40 mature vines heavy with round mauve berries on a sprawling allotment situated between a line of historic homes and a local rail line just above the city downtown.

"I've seen individuals hiding heroin or other items in the shrubbery," says Bayliss-Smith. "But you just get on with it ... and keep tending to your vines."

The cameraman, 46, a documentary cameraman who also has a fermented beverage company, is not the only urban winemaker. He has pulled together a loose collective of growers who produce wine from four hidden urban vineyards nestled in private yards and allotments across the city. It is sufficiently underground to have an formal title so far, but the collective's WhatsApp group is named Vineyard Dreams.

Urban Wine Gardens Across the Globe

To date, Bayliss-Smith's plot is the only one registered in the City Vineyard Network's upcoming global directory, which includes more famous city vineyards such as the 1,800 vines on the hillsides of Paris's renowned artistic district neighbourhood and more than three thousand grapevines with views of and inside Turin. The Italian-based charitable organization is at the vanguard of a initiative re-establishing urban grape cultivation in historic wine-producing countries, but has identified them all over the globe, including urban centers in Japan, Bangladesh and Uzbekistan.

"Vineyards help urban areas remain more eco-friendly and more diverse. They protect land from construction by creating long-term, productive agricultural units inside urban environments," explains the association's president.

Similar to other vintages, those produced in urban areas are a result of the soils the plants grow in, the vagaries of the weather and the individuals who tend the fruit. "Each vintage represents the charm, local spirit, environment and heritage of a city," notes the president.

Mystery Eastern European Grapes

Returning to the city, Bayliss-Smith is in a race against time to harvest the vines he cultivated from a plant abandoned in his garden by a Polish family. Should the rain comes, then the pigeons may take advantage to feast once more. "Here we have the enigmatic Polish variety," he comments, as he cleans bruised and rotten grapes from the shimmering clusters. "We don't really know their exact classification, but they are certainly hardy. In contrast to premium grapes – Burgundy grapes, white wine grapes and additional renowned French grapes – you need not spray them with chemicals ... this could be a unique cultivar that was bred by the Eastern Bloc."

Collective Activities Across the City

Additional participants of the group are additionally taking advantage of sunny interludes between bursts of autumn rain. On the terrace with views of the city's glistening waterfront, where medieval merchant vessels once bobbed with barrels of vintage from Europe and Spain, Katy Grant is harvesting her dark berries from about 50 vines. "I adore the smell of the grapevines. It is so evocative," she says, pausing with a container of grapes resting on her shoulder. "It recalls the fragrance of southern France when you open the vehicle windows on holiday."

Grant, 52, who has spent over two decades working for humanitarian organizations in conflict zones, unexpectedly took over 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 grapevines in the garden of their new home. "This plot has already endured three different owners," she says. "I deeply appreciate the concept of environmental care – of passing this on to someone else so they can continue producing from this land."

Sloping Gardens and Natural Winemaking

A short walk away, the remaining cultivators of the group are busily laboring on the steep inclines of the local river valley. Jo Scofield has cultivated over one hundred fifty plants perched on terraces in her wild half-acre garden, which descends towards the muddy local waterway. "People are always surprised," she notes, gesturing towards the tangled vineyard. "They can't believe they can see rows of vines in a city street."

Today, the filmmaker, sixty, is picking clusters of deep violet Rondo grapes from lines of vines arranged along the hillside with the assistance of her child, Luca. Scofield, a wildlife and conservation film-maker who has contributed to streaming service's Great National Parks series and BBC Two's gardening shows, was inspired to cultivate vines after observing her neighbor's vines. She's discovered that hobbyists can produce interesting, enjoyable traditional vintage, which can sell for upwards of seven pounds a serving in the increasing quantity of establishments focusing on minimal-intervention wines. "It's just deeply rewarding that you can actually create good, traditional vintage," she says. "It's very on trend, but in reality it's resurrecting an old way of making wine."

"When I tread the fruit, the various wild yeasts come off the surfaces and enter the liquid," explains the winemaker, ankle deep in a bucket of tiny stems, seeds and crimson juice. "This represents how vintages were historically produced, but commercial producers introduce preservatives to kill the wild yeast and subsequently incorporate a commercially produced yeast."

Challenging Conditions and Inventive Solutions

In the immediate vicinity sprightly retiree Bob Reeve, who motivated his neighbor to plant her grapevines, has gathered his friends to pick white wine varieties from one hundred vines he has arranged precisely across two terraces. The former teacher, a Lancashire-born physical education instructor who taught at Bristol University developed a passion for wine on regular visits to France. However it is a difficult task to grow this particular variety in the humidity of the gorge, with temperature fluctuations moving through from the Bristol Channel. "I wanted to make Burgundian wines here, which is a bit bonkers," says Reeve with amusement. "This variety is late to ripen and particularly vulnerable to mildew."

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

The temperamental Bristol climate is not the only problem encountered by winegrowers. Reeve has had to erect a fence on