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Every quarter of an hour or so, an ageing diesel train pulls into a graffiti-covered station. Close by, a law enforcement alarm pierces the near-constant road noise. Commuters hurry past falling apart, ivy-draped garden fences as rain clouds form.

This is maybe the least likely spot you expect to find a well-established vineyard. But one local grower has managed to 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 downtown.

"I've noticed individuals concealing heroin or whatever in the shrubbery," states Bayliss-Smith. "Yet you just get on with it ... and keep tending to your vines."

The cameraman, 46, a filmmaker who also has a kombucha drinks business, is not the only urban winemaker. He has pulled together a loose collective of cultivators who make vintage from four hidden urban vineyards 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 WhatsApp group is called Vineyard Dreams.

City Vineyards Around the World

To date, Bayliss-Smith's allotment is the only one registered in the Urban Vineyards Association's upcoming world atlas, which includes better-known city vineyards such as the 1,800 plants on the slopes of Paris's renowned Montmartre neighbourhood and more than three thousand grapevines with views of and within the Italian city. The Italian-based non-profit association is at the forefront of a initiative reviving city vineyards in traditional winemaking countries, but has identified them throughout the world, including cities in Japan, Bangladesh and Central Asia.

"Grape gardens assist urban areas remain more eco-friendly and more diverse. These spaces protect open space from construction by establishing long-term, yielding agricultural units within cities," says the association's president.

Like all wines, those created in cities are a result of the earth the plants grow in, the unpredictability of the weather and the people who care for the grapes. "Each vintage embodies the charm, community, environment and heritage of a urban center," adds the president.

Unknown Polish Grapes

Returning to the city, the grower is in a race against time to harvest the grapevines he cultivated from a plant left in his allotment by a Eastern European household. If the precipitation comes, then the pigeons may take advantage to feast again. "This is the enigmatic Eastern European variety," he comments, as he removes bruised and mouldy grapes from the glistering bunches. "We don't really know what variety they are, but they are certainly disease-resistant. Unlike premium grapes – Pinot Noir, Chardonnay and additional renowned French grapes – you need not treat them with chemicals ... this could be a unique cultivar that was bred by the Eastern Bloc."

Collective Activities Throughout the City

The other members of the collective are additionally taking advantage of sunny interludes between showers of fall precipitation. On the terrace with views of the city's shimmering harbour, where medieval merchant vessels once bobbed with barrels of vintage from France and the Iberian peninsula, one cultivator is collecting her rondo grapes from about fifty vines. "I adore the aroma of the grapevines. The scent is so evocative," she remarks, pausing with a container of grapes slung over her shoulder. "It recalls the fragrance of Provence when you roll down the car windows on holiday."

Grant, fifty-two, who has devoted more than 20 years working for humanitarian organizations in war-torn regions, unexpectedly took over the vineyard when she moved back to the UK from Kenya with her family in recent years. She felt an strong responsibility to maintain the grapevines in the garden of their new home. "This plot has previously survived multiple proprietors," she says. "I deeply appreciate the idea of natural stewardship – of passing this on to someone else so they continue producing from this land."

Sloping Gardens and Traditional Winemaking

Nearby, the final two members of the collective are hard at work on the precipitous slopes of the local river valley. One filmmaker has cultivated more than one hundred fifty plants perched on terraces in her wild half-acre garden, which descends towards the muddy River Avon. "Visitors frequently express amazement," she notes, gesturing towards the interwoven grape garden. "They can't believe they can see grapevine lines in a city street."

Today, the filmmaker, sixty, is harvesting bunches of dusty purple dark berries from lines of plants slung across the hillside with the help of her daughter, her family member. The conservationist, a documentary producer who has worked on streaming service's nature programming and BBC Two's Gardeners' World, was inspired to cultivate vines after seeing her neighbour's grapevines. She's discovered that hobbyists can produce interesting, pleasurable natural wine, which can sell for upwards of seven pounds a serving in the increasing quantity of wine bars focusing on low-processing vintages. "It's just incredibly satisfying that you can truly make good, natural wine," she states. "It is quite on trend, but really it's resurrecting an traditional method of making wine."

"When I tread the grapes, all the natural microorganisms are released from the skins into the liquid," says Scofield, partially submerged in a container of tiny stems, pips and crimson juice. "This represents how wines were historically produced, but commercial producers add preservatives to eliminate the wild yeast and subsequently incorporate a lab-grown yeast."

Challenging Environments and Inventive Approaches

A few doors down active senior Bob Reeve, who inspired his neighbor to plant her vines, has assembled his companions to pick Chardonnay grapes from the 100 vines he has laid out neatly across multiple levels. The former teacher, a northern English physical education instructor who taught at the local university cultivated an interest in wine on annual sporting trips to France. But it is a challenge to grow Chardonnay grapes in the dampness of the valley, with temperature fluctuations moving through from the nearby estuary. "I wanted to make French-style vintages here, which is a bit bonkers," admits Reeve with amusement. "This variety is slow-maturing and very sensitive to mildew."

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

The unpredictable local weather is not the sole challenge encountered by grape cultivators. Reeve has been compelled to erect a barrier on