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Every 20 minutes or so, an older diesel railway carriage pulls into a graffiti-covered station. Close by, a law enforcement alarm cuts through the almost continuous road noise. Daily travelers hurry past falling apart, ivy-covered fencing panels as storm clouds gather.

It is perhaps the last place you anticipate to find a well-established grape-growing plot. But one local grower has managed to 40 mature vines sagging with round mauve grapes on a sprawling allotment situated between a row of 1930s houses and a local rail line just above Bristol downtown.

"I've seen people hiding heroin or whatever in the shrubbery," says the grower. "Yet you just get on with it ... and keep tending to your grapevines."

The cameraman, 46, a filmmaker who runs a kombucha drinks business, is not the only local vintner. He has organized a loose collective of cultivators who make wine from several discreet urban vineyards nestled in private yards and allotments throughout the city. The project is sufficiently underground to have an official name yet, but the collective's messaging chat is called Grape Expectations.

Urban Vineyards Across the World

To date, the grower's plot is the sole location registered in the City Vineyard Network's upcoming global directory, which includes better-known urban wineries such as the 1,800 plants on the slopes of the French capital's renowned Montmartre neighbourhood and more than three thousand vines overlooking and within the Italian city. Based in Italy non-profit association is at the vanguard of a movement re-establishing city vineyards in historic wine-producing nations, but has discovered them throughout the world, including urban centers in Japan, Bangladesh and Central Asia.

"Vineyards help cities stay greener and ecologically varied. These spaces protect open space from construction by creating permanent, yielding agricultural units inside cities," says the association's president.

Similar to other vintages, those created in cities are a product of the soils the plants thrive in, the vagaries of the weather and the individuals who care for the grapes. "Each vintage embodies the charm, local spirit, landscape and history of a urban center," notes the spokesperson.

Mystery Eastern European Grapes

Returning to Bristol, the grower is in a urgent timeline to gather the grapevines he cultivated from a plant left in his allotment by a Polish family. Should the rain comes, then the birds may seize their chance to feast once more. "This is the enigmatic Polish variety," he comments, as he cleans damaged and mouldy berries from the shimmering bunches. "The variety remains uncertain what variety they are, but they're definitely hardy. In contrast to premium grapes – Burgundy grapes, Chardonnay and other famous European varieties – you need not treat them with pesticides ... this is possibly a special variety that was developed by the Eastern Bloc."

Collective Efforts Across the City

Additional participants of the group are also making the most of bright periods between bursts of fall precipitation. On the terrace overlooking Bristol's glistening harbour, where historic trading ships once floated with casks of wine from France and the Iberian peninsula, Katy Grant is harvesting her dark berries from approximately fifty vines. "I love the smell of these vines. It is so reminiscent," she remarks, stopping with a container of grapes slung over her arm. "It recalls the fragrance of southern France when you open the car windows on holiday."

The humanitarian worker, fifty-two, who has spent over 20 years working for charitable groups in war-torn regions, inadvertently inherited the grape garden when she returned to the United Kingdom from East Africa with her household in recent years. She felt an overwhelming duty to maintain the vines in the yard of their recently acquired property. "This vineyard has previously survived multiple proprietors," she says. "I really like the idea of environmental care – of passing this on to future caretakers so they can keep cultivating from this land."

Terraced Gardens and Natural Production

Nearby, the final two members of the collective are busily laboring on the steep inclines of the local river valley. One filmmaker has established over 150 plants perched on ledges in her wild half-acre garden, which tumbles down towards the silty local waterway. "Visitors frequently express amazement," she notes, indicating the interwoven grape garden. "They can't believe they can see rows of vines in a city street."

Today, the filmmaker, 60, is picking bunches of dusty purple dark berries from lines of plants slung across the hillside with the assistance of her daughter, her family member. The conservationist, a wildlife and conservation film-maker who has contributed to Netflix's nature programming and BBC Two's gardening shows, was motivated to plant grapes after seeing her neighbour's vines. She has learned that amateurs can make intriguing, enjoyable traditional vintage, which can command prices of more than seven pounds a serving in the increasing quantity of establishments focusing on minimal-intervention vintages. "It is deeply rewarding that you can truly create good, natural wine," she states. "It's very fashionable, but in reality it's resurrecting an traditional method of producing wine."

"During foot-stomping the fruit, the various natural microorganisms come off the skins and enter the juice," says the winemaker, ankle deep in a bucket of small branches, pips and red liquid. "That's how vintages were made traditionally, but commercial producers add preservatives to eliminate the natural cultures and subsequently incorporate a commercially produced culture."

Difficult Conditions and Creative Approaches

In the immediate vicinity sprightly retiree Bob Reeve, who motivated Scofield to establish her grapevines, has assembled his companions to harvest white wine varieties from the 100 plants he has laid out neatly across two terraces. Reeve, a Lancashire-born physical education instructor who taught at Bristol University developed a passion for viticulture on annual sporting trips to Europe. But it is a difficult task to grow this particular variety in the humidity of the gorge, with cooling tides moving through from the Bristol Channel. "I wanted to produce French-style vintages here, which is a bit bonkers," admits Reeve with a smile. "This variety is slow-maturing and very sensitive to fungal infections."

"My goal was creating Burgundian wines in this environment, which is rather ambitious"

The temperamental Bristol climate is not the sole challenge faced by grape cultivators. The gardener has had to erect a barrier on