Years ago my older son was given a school holiday geography project to tell the story of a river. Most of his classmates seized the opportunity to cut and paste from Wikipedia entries on the Nile, Amazon or Thames. We were on holiday in France so he was forced instead to choose a local river - the Aude. We followed the river's course from the high valley to where it enters the sea at Cabanes de Fleury. As our family group stood shivering in a windswept car park at the river's terminus we agreed it was a pretty low-key and unremarkable journey's end. The last few kilometres seemed particularly featureless and struggling to find a navigable roadway across the swampy and almost deserted landscape, I'd barely noticed the vines.

Salt water kills vines. How is it possible to grow them in this place, just a flat kilometre or so from the sea? The answer, it seems, is a complex system of sluices and drainage ditches which use the Aude's fresh water to minimise the risk. And then the vines are deliberately flooded! I suppose the logic is that any salt water finding its way to the vineyards would be diluted.

This is not the only adaptation to a marginal environment. The vines are planted franc de pied - not grafted on to root stock. This makes them very susceptible to the Phylloxera pest (which virtually destroyed the French wine industry at the end of the nineteenth century). Not surprisingly this method is now officially described as 'very rare'. I know of one grower who uses this method - Christophe Barbier - who makes wine from from just over a hectare of Bourboulenc vines. From this outpost of extreme viticulture he produces wine some critics swoon over. It has been described as many things but the adjectives normally include salty, pungent or iodised. Predictably it's called  Les Terres Salées and  is supposed to be a perfect accompaniment to lobster or bouillabaisse. I bought a bottle of the 2014 a little while ago but haven't tasted it. A full report will follow!