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Every 20 minutes or so, an ageing diesel-powered train arrives at a graffiti-covered stop. Nearby, a law enforcement alarm cuts through the almost continuous road noise. Daily travelers rush by falling apart, ivy-draped garden fences as rain clouds gather.

This is maybe the least likely spot you anticipate to find a well-established vineyard. However one local grower has managed to four dozen established plants heavy with plump purplish berries on a rambling allotment sandwiched between a line of 1930s houses and a commuter railway just north of Bristol downtown.

"I've seen people concealing illegal substances or whatever in the shrubbery," states the grower. "But you just get on with it ... and keep tending to your vines."

Bayliss-Smith, forty-six, a documentary cameraman who also has a kombucha drinks business, is not the only urban winemaker. He has organized a loose collective of growers who make wine from four discreet urban vineyards tucked away in back gardens and allotments throughout the city. The project is sufficiently underground to have an official name so far, but the group's WhatsApp group is named Grape Expectations.

City Wine Gardens Around the World

So far, the grower's allotment is the only one registered in the Urban Vineyards Association's forthcoming world atlas, which features better-known city vineyards such as the 1,800 vines on the slopes of the French capital's historic Montmartre area and more than 3,000 grapevines overlooking and within Turin. The Italian-based charitable organization is at the vanguard of a initiative re-establishing city vineyards in traditional winemaking countries, but has identified them throughout the world, including cities in East Asia, South Asia and Uzbekistan.

"Vineyards assist urban areas stay greener and ecologically varied. They preserve open space from construction by establishing long-term, yielding farming plots within cities," says the association's president.

Like all wines, those created in cities are a product of the earth the plants grow in, the unpredictability of the climate and the individuals who care for the grapes. "Each vintage represents the beauty, community, landscape and heritage of a urban center," notes the spokesperson.

Unknown Polish Grapes

Returning to the city, the grower is in a urgent timeline to harvest the grapevines he cultivated from a cutting abandoned in his allotment by a Eastern European household. Should the rain arrives, then the birds may take advantage to feast again. "Here we have the enigmatic Polish grape," he comments, as he removes bruised and mouldy grapes from the glistering clusters. "We don't really know what variety they are, but they're definitely hardy. In contrast to premium grapes – Pinot Noir, white wine grapes and other famous European varieties – you need not spray them with chemicals ... this is possibly a unique cultivar that was developed by the Eastern Bloc."

Group Activities Throughout the City

The other members of the collective are additionally making the most of sunny interludes between bursts of fall precipitation. On the terrace with views of the city's glistening harbour, where historic trading ships once floated with barrels of vintage from France and the Iberian peninsula, one cultivator is harvesting her dark berries from approximately fifty plants. "I love the aroma of these vines. It is so evocative," she says, stopping with a container of grapes resting on her arm. "It's the scent of Provence when you roll down the car windows on vacation."

Grant, 52, who has spent over two decades working for charitable groups in war-torn regions, unexpectedly inherited the grape garden when she moved back to the UK from Kenya with her family in 2018. She felt an overwhelming duty 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 passing this on to future caretakers so they can continue producing from this land."

Terraced Gardens and Natural Winemaking

Nearby, the remaining cultivators of the group are hard at work on the steep inclines of Avon Gorge. One filmmaker has cultivated over one hundred fifty plants situated on terraces in her expansive property, which descends towards the muddy local waterway. "Visitors frequently express amazement," she notes, indicating the tangled vineyard. "They can't believe they are viewing grapevine lines in a city street."

Currently, Scofield, sixty, is harvesting bunches of dusty purple Rondo grapes from lines of plants arranged along the hillside with the assistance of her child, Luca. The conservationist, a wildlife and conservation film-maker who has contributed to Netflix's Great National Parks series and television network's Gardeners' World, was inspired to plant grapes after seeing her neighbor's grapevines. She has learned that hobbyists can produce interesting, pleasurable traditional vintage, which can sell for more than £7 a serving in the increasing quantity of establishments specialising in minimal-intervention wines. "It is incredibly satisfying that you can actually create quality, traditional vintage," she says. "It is quite fashionable, but in reality it's reviving an old way of producing vintage."

"During foot-stomping the grapes, all the natural microorganisms are released from the surfaces and enter the liquid," explains Scofield, partially submerged in a bucket of tiny stems, pips and red liquid. "That's how wines were historically produced, but commercial producers introduce sulphur [dioxide] to eliminate the natural cultures and then incorporate a commercially produced yeast."

Difficult Environments and Creative Solutions

A few doors down active senior Bob Reeve, who motivated Scofield to establish her vines, has assembled his companions to pick Chardonnay grapes from the 100 plants he has laid out neatly across multiple levels. Reeve, a northern English PE teacher who taught at Bristol University developed a passion for viticulture on regular visits to Europe. However it is a difficult task to cultivate Chardonnay grapes in the dampness of the gorge, with cooling tides moving through from the nearby estuary. "I aimed to produce French-style vintages in this location, which is a bit bonkers," admits Reeve with amusement. "This variety is slow-maturing and very sensitive to mildew."

"My goal was creating European-style vintages here, which is a bit bonkers"

The unpredictable Bristol climate is not the sole challenge encountered by winegrowers. Reeve has had to install a barrier on