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Every quarter of an hour or so, an older diesel-powered train pulls into a graffiti-covered stop. Close by, 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 perhaps the last place you expect to find a perfectly formed grape-growing plot. However one local grower has managed to four dozen established plants sagging with round mauve berries on a sprawling garden plot situated between a row of historic homes and a commuter railway just north of the city town centre.

"I've seen people hiding illegal substances or other items in those bushes," says Bayliss-Smith. "Yet you simply continue ... and keep tending to your vines."

The cameraman, 46, a filmmaker who runs a kombucha drinks business, is not the only urban winemaker. He's organized a informal group of growers who make vintage from several discreet urban vineyards tucked away in private yards and community plots throughout the city. It is too clandestine to possess an formal title so far, but the collective's WhatsApp group is called Grape Expectations.

Urban Vineyards Across the World

To date, the grower's allotment is the sole location listed 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 the French capital's historic Montmartre neighbourhood and more than 3,000 vines overlooking and within Turin. The Italian-based non-profit association is at the vanguard of a initiative re-establishing urban grape cultivation in traditional winemaking nations, but has identified them throughout the world, including cities in Japan, Bangladesh and Central Asia.

"Grape gardens help cities remain greener and ecologically varied. They protect land from development by creating long-term, productive agricultural units within cities," says the association's president.

Like all wines, those produced in urban areas are a result of the earth the plants thrive in, the vagaries of the weather and the people who tend the fruit. "A bottle of wine represents the beauty, community, landscape and heritage of a urban center," adds the spokesperson.

Unknown Eastern European Variety

Returning to the city, Bayliss-Smith is in a race against time to gather the grapevines he cultivated from a plant left in his allotment by a Polish family. If the rain arrives, then the pigeons may seize their chance to attack again. "Here we have the mystery Polish grape," he comments, as he cleans bruised and mouldy berries from the glistering clusters. "We don't really know their exact classification, but they're definitely disease-resistant. In contrast to premium grapes – Pinot Noir, white wine grapes and other famous European varieties – you don't have to treat them with pesticides ... this is possibly a special variety that was bred by the Soviets."

Group Activities Across Bristol

The other members of the collective are additionally making the most of sunny interludes between bursts of fall precipitation. At a rooftop garden with views of Bristol's shimmering harbour, where historic trading ships once floated with barrels of vintage from France and Spain, Katy Grant is collecting her dark berries from approximately fifty vines. "I adore the aroma of these vines. The scent is so evocative," she remarks, stopping with a container of fruit resting on her arm. "It's the scent of southern France when you roll down the vehicle windows on holiday."

The humanitarian worker, fifty-two, who has devoted more than 20 years working for charitable groups in war-torn regions, unexpectedly took over the vineyard when she moved back to the United Kingdom from East Africa with her family in recent years. She felt an strong responsibility to look after the grapevines in the yard of their new home. "This vineyard has already endured three different owners," she says. "I really like the idea of natural stewardship – of handing this down to future caretakers so they can continue producing from this land."

Terraced Vineyards and Natural Winemaking

Nearby, the final two members of the group are hard at work on the precipitous slopes of Avon Gorge. One filmmaker has cultivated more than 150 plants situated on ledges in her expansive property, which tumbles down towards the silty local waterway. "Visitors frequently express amazement," she says, indicating the interwoven grape garden. "It's astonishing to them they can see rows of vines in a city street."

Currently, Scofield, 60, is picking bunches of dusty purple Rondo grapes from rows of plants arranged along the cliff-side with the assistance of her daughter, Luca. The conservationist, a documentary producer who has worked on Netflix's nature programming and television network's gardening shows, was motivated to cultivate vines after seeing her neighbour's vines. She has learned that hobbyists can make interesting, enjoyable natural wine, which can command prices of more than £7 a serving in the growing number of wine bars specialising in minimal-intervention wines. "It is deeply rewarding that you can actually make good, traditional vintage," she states. "It is quite fashionable, but in reality it's resurrecting an traditional method of making vintage."

"When I tread the grapes, the various wild yeasts come off the skins and enter the liquid," says Scofield, partially submerged in a container of tiny stems, pips and crimson juice. "That's how wines were made traditionally, but commercial producers add preservatives to eliminate the wild yeast and subsequently incorporate a commercially produced yeast."

Difficult Environments and Inventive Approaches

A few doors down active senior Bob Reeve, who motivated Scofield to plant her vines, has assembled his friends to harvest white wine varieties from the 100 plants he has arranged precisely across two terraces. The former teacher, a northern English physical education instructor who worked at Bristol University developed a passion for viticulture on annual sporting trips to France. However it is a difficult task to grow Chardonnay grapes in the humidity of the valley, with temperature fluctuations sweeping in and out from the nearby estuary. "I wanted to make Burgundian wines here, which is somewhat ambitious," says Reeve with amusement. "Chardonnay is slow-maturing and very sensitive to fungal infections."

"I wanted to make Burgundian wines here, which is rather ambitious"

The temperamental local weather is not the sole challenge faced by winegrowers. The gardener has had to install a fence on