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

This is maybe the last place you anticipate to find a well-established vineyard. However one local grower has managed to four dozen established plants sagging with plump purplish berries on a rambling garden plot situated between a line of historic homes and a commuter railway just above Bristol town centre.

"I've seen individuals hiding heroin or other items in the shrubbery," says Bayliss-Smith. "Yet you simply continue ... and continue caring for your grapevines."

The cameraman, 46, a filmmaker who runs a fermented beverage company, is among several urban winemaker. He has pulled together a loose collective of growers who produce vintage from several discreet city grape gardens tucked away in private yards and community plots throughout Bristol. The project is sufficiently underground to have an formal title yet, but the collective's WhatsApp group is called Vineyard Dreams.

City Vineyards Across the Globe

So far, the grower's plot is the only one listed in the Urban Vineyards Association's forthcoming world atlas, which includes better-known city vineyards such as the 1,800 vines on the hillsides of the French capital's renowned Montmartre area and more than 3,000 vines overlooking and inside Turin. Based in Italy charitable organization is at the forefront of a movement reviving urban grape cultivation in historic wine-producing countries, but has identified them throughout the globe, including urban centers in East Asia, Bangladesh and Central Asia.

"Grape gardens help urban areas stay greener and more diverse. These spaces preserve land from development by establishing long-term, yielding agricultural units within cities," explains the association's president.

Similar to other vintages, those created in urban areas are a product of the earth the plants thrive in, the vagaries of the weather and the individuals who care for the fruit. "Each vintage embodies the beauty, local spirit, landscape and heritage of a city," adds the president.

Unknown Eastern European Grapes

Back in the city, Bayliss-Smith is in a urgent timeline to harvest the vines he cultivated from a plant abandoned in his garden by a Eastern European household. If the precipitation comes, then the birds may seize their chance to attack again. "Here we have the mystery Eastern European grape," he comments, as he removes bruised and mouldy berries from the shimmering bunches. "We don't really know what variety they are, but they're definitely disease-resistant. In contrast to noble varieties – Pinot Noir, Chardonnay and additional renowned European varieties – you need not spray them with chemicals ... this could be a unique cultivar that was bred by the Soviets."

Collective Activities Across Bristol

The other members of the group are also taking advantage of sunny interludes between showers of fall precipitation. At a rooftop garden overlooking the city's glistening harbour, where historic trading ships once bobbed with casks of vintage from Europe and the Iberian peninsula, one cultivator is collecting her rondo grapes from about fifty plants. "I adore the smell of these vines. The scent is so reminiscent," she remarks, pausing with a container of fruit slung over her arm. "It recalls the fragrance of southern France when you roll down the vehicle windows on holiday."

Grant, 52, who has devoted more than 20 years working for humanitarian organizations in conflict zones, unexpectedly took over the vineyard when she moved back to the UK from Kenya with her household in 2018. She felt an overwhelming duty to look after the grapevines in the yard of their new home. "This plot has already endured three different owners," she explains. "I really like the concept of natural stewardship – of passing this on to future caretakers so they can continue producing from the soil."

Terraced Vineyards and Natural Winemaking

A short walk away, the final two members of the collective are busily laboring on the steep inclines of the local river valley. Jo Scofield has cultivated more than one hundred fifty vines situated on ledges in her expansive property, which tumbles down towards the silty local waterway. "People are always surprised," she notes, indicating the tangled vineyard. "It's astonishing to them they are viewing grapevine lines in a urban neighborhood."

Today, Scofield, 60, is harvesting clusters of dusty purple Rondo grapes from lines of plants arranged along the cliff-side with the help of her child, Luca. The conservationist, a wildlife and conservation film-maker who has contributed to Netflix's nature programming and television network's gardening shows, was motivated to cultivate vines after observing her neighbour's vines. She's discovered that amateurs can produce interesting, enjoyable traditional vintage, which can command prices of upwards of seven pounds a glass in the increasing quantity of wine bars focusing on minimal-intervention wines. "It's just incredibly satisfying that you can actually make good, natural wine," she states. "It is quite fashionable, but really it's resurrecting an traditional method of making vintage."

"When I tread the fruit, all the wild yeasts come off the surfaces into the juice," says the winemaker, ankle deep in a bucket of tiny stems, seeds and crimson juice. "This represents how vintages were historically produced, but industrial wineries introduce sulphur [dioxide] to eliminate the natural cultures and then add a commercially produced culture."

Difficult Conditions and Creative Approaches

A few doors down sprightly retiree Bob Reeve, who inspired his neighbor to plant her grapevines, has assembled his friends to harvest Chardonnay grapes from the 100 vines he has arranged precisely across multiple levels. Reeve, a northern English physical education instructor who worked at Bristol University cultivated an interest in viticulture on regular visits to France. However it is a difficult task to grow Chardonnay grapes in the humidity of the valley, with cooling tides moving through from the nearby estuary. "I aimed to make Burgundian wines here, which is a bit bonkers," admits the retiree with amusement. "Chardonnay is slow-maturing and very sensitive to fungal infections."

"I wanted to make Burgundian wines in this environment, which is rather ambitious"

The temperamental Bristol climate is not the only problem encountered by grape cultivators. Reeve has had to erect a barrier on