Farewell, Punakaiki

We left Punakaiki at 10am in glorious weather. Evie was car sick at 11am, and at 12 noon we stopped to trip across a swing footbridge over the Buller gorge and wander round the old gold workings.

On the footbridge

Chris got cross because his family threw stones at him as he stood on a rock in the river. At 1pm, we stopped at Murchison for pie and chips, and reached Blenheim at 3pm to buy a picnic supper for the Interislander – renowned, like our cross-Channel ferries, for its atrocious food.

From left, clockwise: Harry, Chris, Janie, Evie, Georgie and Kristen

We returned the hire car and settled into a half-empty ferry. The girls watched a film, while Chris and I sorted out the planet over a beer or three. We reached Wellington at 9pm, hailed a taxi and were in bed by 10.30pm.

Friday was another beautiful un-Wellingtonesque day. Chris and I walked through the woods to the top of the hill behind their house to get an aerial view of the city, airport and harbour, then we bought a few bottles of wine and some gifts to take home.

On top of Wellington

Chris took us to an Island Bay butcher to buy a selection of wicked sausages for a BBQ lunch. We de-energised the children at a playground, and prepared for departure. Chris drove us to the airport, only 15 minutes away… and that was it. Farewell, cuz.

We flew the 45 minutes to Auckland, hopped on our 747 to London, and tried – and failed – to sleep. But the food and wine were good, so were the films, and the children were marvellous. They could get used to this sort of holiday!

And that was it. Janie’s sister Bonne and family were at Heathrow to greet us… and all of a sudden we were home.

The holiday of a lifetime? Well, it’s a hard one to beat!

So, thank you everyone who made this holiday so brilliant – Discover the World (www.discover-the-world.co.uk) and Tourism New Zealand (www.newzealand.com/travel/UK-Ireland.com), who paid for lots of it and put it all together; United Campervans (www.campavan.co.nz), who gave us their wheeled palace for two weeks; Air New Zealand (www.airnewzealand.co.uk)  for the flights; and the UK’s Guardian newspaper for running the travel writing competition in the first place.

Thank you to all the operators in New Zealand who gave us such wonderful activities and hospitality – the Heritage Hotel in Auckland, Goat Island’s glass-bottomed boat, Waimarino Adventures for the glow worm kayak adventure at MacLaren Falls, Te Po for a stunning geothermal tour-Maori show-hangi dinner in Rotorua, Charles Royal and Hell’s Gate for the Mokoia Island lunch and tour, Destination Rotorua for the luge, Huka Falls Lodge for Janie’s memorable birthday dinner, Wellington’s Te Papa museum and The Sanctuary (Zealandia), Whale Watch Kaikoura for the sperm whale sightings, Encounter Kaikoura for the dolphim swim and albatross frenzy, Seal Swim Kaikoura, Willowbank and Ko Tane in Christchurch for the Maori forest experience and wildlife tour, and last but not least, the International Antarctic Centre.

Thanks to Anne and Helen for your kindness, and especially to Chris, Kristen and Harry for your Maruia Springs gift, for putting us up in Wellington, and for organising Punakaiki.

And finally, thanks to the three girls in my life… Evie, Georgie and Janie. This holiday would have been empty without you.

Sweet as

Punakaiki bay from the pancake rocks

After an early morning bask in the hot pools, wash in the bath house and miso, fish and rice Japanese breakfast, we set off for the west coast. The girls, unused to a normal car and the winding mountain roads, will only remember historic gold-mining town Reefton because they were nearly sick. But it should also be remembered for being the first place on earth to have electric street lights. Weird. Oh, and it has New Zealand’s finest skate park.

We reached coastal Westport and stocked up on groceries for the days ahead. We drove to the superbly named Cape Foulwind, found the Star Tavern and met landlord Derek… who owns a big beach house in remote Punakaiki, which we were renting for the next five days. While Chris and I sorted out the cash and contemplated a noon beer, the girls charmed a local family walking their horses and enjoyed a little ride. Can you see that happening in England?

The coast road to Punakaiki is stunning. The Paparoa National Park’s forest-clad limestone peaks rise to 5,000ft close to the sea. This is wet, wild and empty country. Little Westport, the main “town”, and the huge swathes of forest and mountain all around have a population of 4,000. Ridiculous amounts of rain fall on the mountains, and the coast gets pounded from the east by water pouring down from the uplands and from the west by Pacific storms. The few people who live here, termed “coasters”, are delightful… but partially insane. Or hugely gifted. Like Keri Hulme, who wrote the Booker Prize-winning novel, The Bone People.

Punakaiki, which nestles on a tiny strip of flat land between the waves and a towering limestone cliff straight out of Jurassic Park, boasts a tavern, a few houses, a motel or two, an I-site and… er, that’s it. Oh, and a kayak rental shack. And a stable. And the famous pancake rocks. And glow worm caves, fast-flowing rivers, gorges, potholes, sinkholes and just about any other hole you can think of. And tracks into the bush and down to the beaches. And curious flightless weka birds everywhere. And the odd possum.

But it’s the pancake rocks that attract the tour buses… a stunning headland of multi-layered sedimentary rock (thus the name) full of caves and blowholes, around which the Department of Conservation has built a vertiginous walkway.

Our house was superb, overlooking the beach on one side and the cliffs on the other. Chris and Kristen kindly gave Janie and I the master suite overlooking the ocean and opted for the lesser bedroom beside the ground floor garage… an act of kindness that will be repaid in kind later in life. We unpacked, then set off to explore.

Our beach house

The beach, especially at low tide, demanded either beachcombing or wave-jumping… or a “refreshing” and dubiously masochistic swim. We collected mussels from the rocks (delicious), ambled to the lagoon where the Pararori river meets the sea, and discovered the kayak shack. The girls wisely opted not to join Chris, Harry and I for a paddle up-river. Wisely, because a) the water was colder than the sea; b) rocks and other obstacles were numerous and challenging; and c) I capsized in a particularly fast-flowing rapid. Evie would not have seen the funny side of sudden immersion in 12 degree C water. We struggled further upstream, hoisting kayaks over fallen trees and pulling them up shingle banks to avoid the rapids. When we finally turned back, it took little over 15 minutes to skim down to the lagoon.

Chris, Harry and I took off very early one morning to hear the dawn chorus and hike part of the Inland Pack Trail through the dense bush. I cannot imagine how those early settlers cut this path out of the thick, primeval forest… and how they avoided the many bottomless sinkholes and chasms half-hidden by fallen trees, ferns and beguiling moss.

One afternoon, we walked the Trueman track down to a rocky beach. We tramped from cove to cove, watching the surf pounding the rocks, squeezing along narrow crevices between the boulders, clambering through small caves… wondering at the power of the waves that had crafted such extraordinary shapes out of the limestone. Warning bells jangled… we were extremely aware of the danger of being caught by the tide. There were few safe routes back up the cliffs to safety, and the water was wild, with fierce undertows and riptides. We forbade the children playing in the waves… some of the wash swirling up the sand was powerful enough to drag down a horse, let alone a child.

Back in the beach house, our combined families discovered the joy of playing Rat a Tat Cat and charades, while sipping cold beer and wine, overlooking the Tasman Sea.

Evie and Janie riding on the beach

Delightful. We had four nights in one place, with Kristen’s fine cooking and no need to drive anywhere. It was the perfect counterpoint to 1,000 miles of campervan touring.

Farewell Punakaiki

The slide that Georgie couldn't ride

Hanmer Springs’ main claim to fame – other than it being a delightful summer mountain resort and winter ski centre – is its complex of thermal pools.

After an early morning run up the forest-clad Conical Hill to the catch the view at the top – just me, in case you’re wondering – I took the girls to the thermal springs while Janie headed into town for some long-overdue retail therapy.

When we discovered that Georgie was too small to be allowed down the long slide, I told her that I was too big… which seemed to forestall a possible hissy fit. We wandered through delightful gardens, dipping into this hot pool, then that one, then another… and finally opted for a semi-warm pool where we could duck and dive under water and play various dolphin/seal/penguin games.

Janie turned up, and we set off for the Lewis Pass on Highway 7, where we had a 12 noon rendezvous with Chris, Kristen and Harry.

Easy.

Except that we had no mobile – not that there was any signal. And where exactly WAS the pass? We stopped at various ridge-like bits of mountain road, trying to work out if the rivers below were flowing east or west. I pride myself on acute geographical awareness, but in this case (like many others, my mountain-climbing friends will no doubt say) my mental compass, obviously confused by southern hemisphere electromagnetism, decide that the Lewis Pass was about 15 miles from its true location… and we finally reached my perturbed cousin and his family an hour late. Apologies, bro.

Waiting at not the Lewis Pass

After Kristen’s fine picnic lunch, we headed off into the bush for a sub-alpine wander before driving the 20 minutes or so to Maruia Springs, a bizarre slice of Japan in the middle of nowhere. Like Hanmer Springs, its raison d’etre is hot water, in this case, black hot water – black because of the algae living in the rocky vents. A Japanese company bought the resort some years ago, and has added a Japanese bath house, Japanese restaurant and Japanese staff. I was itching to get into my kimono (not something I normally admit), but Chris had other ideas. He announced that he had his eye on nearby Mount Technical, a 6,000ft peak still basking in the afternoon sun – between the wisps of cloud. Remember, I had already ran up a smallish mountain that morning, and my legs were feeling… noodle-like. But my motto is “never say no unless you’ve got a damn good reason”, so off we went, with 14-year-old Harry humming manically as he slurped his sixth can of coke.

I now realise that my Kiwi family has somehow inherited mountain-goat blood. Anyway, I managed, just, to keep up with them and reach a peak just below Mount Technical, where we did enjoy a pretty spectacular view.

Mark and Chris peak

And then, joy of joys, we staggered back to Maruia Springs, put on our kimonos, and slumped into a heavenly, muscle-soothing pool of black, algae-riddled hot water, in the open air, beneath forest-clad mountains.

In one of the hot pools

Japanese dinner

And more was to come. Dinner was a family Japanese feast on a big, low table, washed down with a trans-cultural mix of Marlborough Chardonnay and Japanese sake. Arigato, bro, for a wonderful stay in this strange little corner of your country!

The girls in the storm chamber

After breakfast, we drove Herbie to the International Antarctic Centre near Christchurch airport, to enjoy the renowned Antarctic Attraction.

We started our visit by donning a warm jacket and entering the “storm chamber” to experience a mild (by Antarctic standards) “weather event”. The temperature in the chamber is a constant minus 5 degrees C, but as the lights dim and the wind starts howling, it dips to minus 18… with 40kph winds threatening to blow you on to the ice and snow. Evie loved it, but little Georgie quickly retreated with Mum to the warmth of the observation gallery. As Evie and I staggered back to safety, I pointed out to her that temperatures of nearly minus 90 degrees C have been recorded on the continent, with winds of up to 300kph! I wonder how long we’d survive in that wearing a pink Polartec fleece.

Mark braves Antarctica

We wandered to the little blue penguin area – an 80,000 litre pool with natural banks and burrows, and enough room for 26 lucky little beasties… for these are all rescue birds. They’ve either been bashed by boats, half-eaten by predators or semi-squashed by vehicles. One is blind (Elvis), and another (Jake?) only has one leg. But they can all swim… and you can watch them whiz through the water chasing (dead) fish, thanks to comfy seats beside a huge glass pane. The kids loved it.

Penguin pool

We saw a couple of fascinating sound and light shows, and then joined a short queue for the Hagglund ride…Antarctica’s answer to the Landrover. The Hagglund is an all-terrain amphibious vehicle. It floats, can be “driven” in water at 3.5kph, still functions at minus 40 degrees C, and zips along the flat at 55kph. It can climb steep hills and exerts only half the ground pressure of a human foot with its special caterpillar tracks. In short, it’s the sort of boy’s toy that’s absolutely ideal for pottering around the South Downs of England. I’ve put my order in.

We climbed aboard, strapped in, gripped hard, and went for an exhilarating ride down a tarmac road, over a stomach-churning obstacle course and into a flooded ditch where water came lapping up the window. Fantastic!

Hanging on inside a Hagglund

Once back on dry land, we watched a superb new “art” film on the continent, shot mainly from a helicopter, that gives you some idea of this vast, empty but stunningly beautiful land, which is “the coldest, windiest, driest and highest continent on earth”. It’s twice as large as Australia and the same size as Europe and the Mediterranean combined.

Suitably gobsmacked, we joined the “penguin backstage pass” to go behind the scenes and see how the centre actually cares for their charming little visitors. This included 10 minutes in the “convalescing” wing, where two little blues waddled around between our legs, perfectly happy to be so close to humans.

Real, not stuffed

If ice, penguins and Antarctica tickle your fancy, check out www.iceberg.co.nz. And thank you, Wendy Smith!

After four fun-filled hours, we left to return our beloved Herbie to United Campervans. We collected a fancy Subaru Legacy from Ace Car Rentals (dead cheap and dead good), and drove the two hours to Hamner Springs up in the mountains. We checked in to a spacious chalet, cooked up another sirloin steak feast, bounced the children on a trampoline, and finished the day by lying on the trampoline and gazing up at the clear, star-studded sky. I baffled the girls with tales of the Big Bang four billion years ago, the space-time continuum, light years and an ever-expanding universe. The perfect way to get them rushing for bed.

Crayfish lunch

Kaikoura Seals and Christchurch Maoris? No, not a Super 14 rugby match, but the game plan for the day… a seal swim in Kaikoura, a three-hour drive to Christchurch, and then Ko Tane – a Maori dance and culture show followed by a wildlife tour at the Willowbank Wildlife Reserve.

We rose for an early rendezvous with Seal Swim Kaikoura, which involves… yes, you guessed it! More immersion in the decidedly un-hot springs of the southern Pacific.

Evie and Georgie didn’t bat an eyelid as Janie tugged them into yet another neoprene fashion garment, and the hugely helpful folk running the company tried them out with a variety of fins, masks, snorkels, waterproof hats and socks. The latter two items were too big, so they had to go without… which we realised could get them cold pretty quickly.

We jumped into a bus, and drove around the bay on Highway 1 to a rocky outcrop close to land – prime fur seal real estate. The driver talked us through seal life and the swim ahead… basically go as close as you want to the seals, but do NOT touch them, do NOT attempt to climb on the rocks, and do NOT stand on rocks so that you rise out of the water… this is, apparently, the fur seal equivalent of “your mother is a walrus”. Daddy fur seals are large, extremely territorial and do not brush their teeth.

Seal (and cormorant) rock

We waddled down to a zodiac on the edge of the water and fell in. The pilot, Derek, and his jolly helper (let’s call him Jack) – both clad in wetsuits – gave us another talk before we chuntered out towards the biggest rock, which was covered in the white guano of a thousand cormorants. There were seals aplenty, some surprisingly high up the rocks, and pups too, playing nervously at the watery edges as if egging each other on to go all the way.

We let the other swimmers splash overboard before enticing our offspring into the water. And then, to my delight, Jack took out a large blue float, jumped in the sea, and encouraged Evie and Georgie to join him. They did, with barely a squeak. Jack lay on the middle of the float with the girls either side, masks in the water… and off they paddled towards the rocks. They looked safe, and even Georgie seemed surprisingly happy. This was great, as it gave Janie and I the freedom to swim where we wanted. We found a crevice in the rock where a number of seals and pups were lying, and edged to within five feet of them. A seal swam beneath us and up to the rocks. Another slid in to inspect us. We’d been told to engage the seals by matching their movements, so we span and ducked and twisted as they sped past, sometimes so close that you could reach out and touch them. Dolphins may be elegant and beautiful, but they do NOT play with you as much as fur seals – which are just as elegant and beautiful. They ducked and dived, bobbed and weaved, toying with us, leaping out of the water beside us, occasionally coming scarily close and grimacing, as if to say “you’re too close… back off!” So back off we did… a little.

Evie and Georgie lasted a good 20 minutes before their curiosity succumbed to the cold. Jack didn’t swim them too close to the rocks and they only saw one seal under water. They decided it was more fun watching the seals snoozing and clambering around the rocks from the boat than from the water. So they climbed aboard, where Derek and Jack wrapped them in foil survival blankets to keep out the chill, and happily watched the antics of swimmers and seals. Janie and I paddled around for a full hour before the first swimmers began climbing aboard. The thick neoprene, hats and socks kept out the chill amazingly well, despite the icy water.

We climbed into the bus still in dripping wetsuits and drove back to Seal Swim Kaikoura’s base. We peeled ourselves out of all rubber and then, paradise. Hot, hot showers. Heaven, without theological doubt, is a hot shower after a sub-antarctic swim! For a close encounter with Kaikoura’s friendly fur seals, go to: www.sealswimkaikoura.co.nz

We drove to the end of the Kaikoura peninsula for lunch at a crayfish BBQ shack. We sat at a table outside while our lunch was cooked for us on the BBQ – Janie had half a cray and salad for just under £10, Georgie had plain white rice for a pittance, Evie had grilled fish, rice and salad for £4, and I had a plate of scallops, rice and salad for £5. Delicious! So good, in fact, that we went back for more… except this time I had a Paui black shellfish “sammy” – omelette. So delicious that we had to share a third helping of grilled fish!

Evie contemplates her lunch

Highway 1 to Christchurch hugged the coast before winding over the mountains and down to the flatlands of the Canterbury Plains. We drove to the north side of the city, found the well-placed North-South Campground, parked Herbie for our last campervan night, and called Willowbank to see if they had a courtesy bus that could pick us up for the show. They did, and we reached the reserve at 5.30pm, looking forward to the evening ahead – a Maori forest and dance experience (Ko Tane), dinner, and then a tour of the New Zealand wildlife section of the Willowbank nature reserve.

We were led along a twilit boardwalk over a river and between pools of fresh springwater, deep into the fern-clad forest. We had been warned that a Maori iwi, the South Island Ngai Tahu people, lived in the forest, and that we would be “challenged” – but we still jumped out of our skins when a heavily muscled and richly tattooed warrior burst out of the undergrowth right behind Evie and me and bellowed a warning. Who the hell were we, and what were we doing in his land! The tall South African who had been chosen as our pakeha “representative” quickly appeared to accept the challenge. Peace was made, the two “warriors” pressed noses and foreheads together in the traditional hongi embrace, and after a few minutes of chanting and posturing, the iwi melted into the darkness. We were then invited to see their woodland village, which, in bygone days, would have been a temporary settlement for the tribe to gather the riches of the forest before they returned to their main settlement, a fortified village or “pa”.

This part of the show was fantastic, as it really gave us an idea of what life was like in the early days… both Maori life, and the trepidations of those early white settlers who came face to face with these awesome warlike people. More was to come. After a few prayers and songs of peace in the village under the darkening forest canopy, we were ushered into the Maori meeting house for the whakangahau – a display of traditional and contemporary Maori dances. As in Rotorua, this included the poi (swinging ball) dance, the good old haka (which I joined in on stage again!) and a waiata ringa (action) song. The costumes, singing and dancing were all excellent, and the hall, being relatively small, was enjoyably intimate.

Fearsome white warrior performs embarrassing haka on stage

We were led to the smart riverside Willowbank restaurant for a delicious New Zealand-inspired dinner. At 7.30pm, a Maori guide appeared to lead us around the New Zealand wildlife section of the reserve. The walkways meander around dimly lit pools and rivers, through forest and under ferns, into open aviaries and past animal enclosures. We met New Zealand’s kea, or alpine parrot, which can strip an untended car of all rubber in the Southern Alps. We met kune kune pigs, which were introduced by the Maoris from Polynesia centuries ago. We met the tuatara, an extremely rare lizard that still thinks dinosaurs rule the planet. We met various nocturnal New Zealand birds, the most notable of which is, of course, the elusive kiwi… which got up close and truly personal. We met tame freshwater eels, and the effigy of a giant moa, which, at 12 feet tall, was a family feast for those early Maori settlers. Sadly, like all of New Zealand’s many ground birds, it had no evolutionary concept of being “hunted”, and virtually walked into the cooking pots. The kiwis almost went the same way.

Georgie and a friendly (but stuffed) kiwi

Willowbank was a wonderful finale to our last night in Herbie the campervan. For details on the Ko Tane Maori cultural performance and the Willowbank Wildlife Reserve, see www.willowbank.co.nz

Wednesday 15 April

Janie’s blog

To say we were excited would be an understatement.  By the time we met Jo Thompson, Encounter Kaikoura’s marketing manager, at 8am in the company’s smart café, and heard the details about our imminent swim with dolphins, we were ready to burst.  Sea conditions were excellent and we proceeded to the changing area to be decked out in wetsuits and kit.  Mark had the straightforward task of getting himself into a wetsuit in the privacy of the men’s changing room, whilst I was given the ‘challenge’ of wriggling two kids and myself into black rubber with a bunch of other women all pushing and shoving their various bits into impossibly snug seal outfits.  As the girls were so small, they were given two all-in-one’s EACH to put on, one on top of the other.  My suit was so tight as to push all the blood to my face and make bending over a clear no-no.  Persistence triumphed over neoprene and, exhausted but eager, we emerged and waddled towards the bus that would speed us down the coast to our waiting boat.

One of the dolphin boats in south Kaikoura harbour

We were greeted on the launch by an exuberant and very friendly guide, who talked us through the drill and said that a pod of 600 or so dusky dolphins had been spotted just 20 minutes away.  Next thing we knew we were off…!  Sure enough, small fins began to break the water and before we knew it, the boat’s horn blasted – signalling for us to get in the water and swim out to them.  We waited until everyone else was clear before getting the girls in position.  My heart was beating fast.  Georgie, two huge eyes peering anxiously back at us through her mask, looked at the inky, cold depths and wobbled.  She retreated to the comfort and safety of the boat’s long seat inside, lay down and dreamed of dry land.

Neoprened and ready for a dip

Mark and Evie took the plunge, gasping as the cold water seeped into their suits. Heads down, they paddled swiftly away from the side of the boat (no doubt trying to get their circulation going again!).  I nudged to the edge, and lunged.  Freezing water took my breath away.  I pushed out and flapped my flippers for all they were worth to take my mind off the cold and the fact that I was swimming in the middle of the ocean with who knows what below.  Looking down, strings of luminescent krill danced everywhere and then a huge dolphin swam past inches from my face.  I looked up to see fins and snorkels everywhere.  Keep breathing, keep looking, I kept saying to myself as I slowly swam forward.  Dozens of dolphins appeared, some on their own, others in small groups.  Then more!  We had been told to sing to the dolphins by our guide, who said the noisier the tune the better.  The water was alive with babbling human noises.  I couldn’t think of anything other than the songs from the Sound of Music, but it worked!  Dolphins turned and twisted, eyes looking into mine as they passed, no doubt trying to guess what kind of strange black blob was murdering a classic.

Dusky dolphins surfing our bow wave

The horn sounded, breaking the underwater spell. I realised I’d drifted quite a distance from the boat so swam quickly looking for signs of Mark and Evie.

Back to Mark

The water was around 14 degrees C… cold enough to suck the breath out of your body when you first plunged in. I admit, I felt a finger of fear caress my back when I first slid off the boat into the icy blue water after the other 10 swimmers (the Department of Conservation allows only 13 swimmers in the water from one boat at any one time). The 6,000 feet of underwater canyon beneath us holds a lot of very large wildlife. What if those carnivorous sperm whales suddenly took a fancy to man flesh… or those pleasantly named killer whales… or New Zealand’s not uncommon giant squid… or worst of all, a vacationing white shark? This was the open ocean, and I held Evie’s arm tightly as she swam bravely beside me.

But one glimpse of those wondrous dolphin eyes gazing at you from just a few feet away, and the fear evaporated. And they were everywhere, filling our ears with their clicks and squeaks. Beneath, beside, above, breaking the surface, gliding past upside down, turning tight circles and coming back for a second look at this strangely-clad, bubble-singing father and child grouplet. Perhaps they are interested in us because we have similar dimensions to them, as the duskys are the smallest of all dolphins.

Magical.

Until one of them did a speed poo just a few feet away. Less magical, but entirely natural. Unless it was a comment on our singing.

The boat’s horn sounded, and we swam back to the platform. We chuntered half a mile to catch up with the main pod. And then we were in the clear water again, with Evie gawping at the teeming life around us, at the invertebrate creatures shining in the sun’s rays like “glittering necklaces”, as she said. We touched the strange helixes of jelly-like creatures pulsing in front of our masks, and wondered at the riches of these cold southern oceans.

And then Evie got a little scared, but I couldn’t understand her snorkel-strangled words, and quickly decided to make the distress signal to the watching boat. The launch reversed to us, and we hauled Evie out of the water. No serious panic… she was having a bit of trouble with her snorkel taking on water, and was a bit concerned that we were getting too far away from safety. Gosh, could I have swum with my Dad, aged eight, in water this cold and deep? Respect, little Evie.

Dolphins, dolphins, everywhere

We swam on with our mammalian friends, jumping in and out of the boat, until even the blubberiest of the human swimmers had finally had enough. We took it in turns to shove a hose of hot water down our wetsuits, and, once warm, tugged off the neoprene, rubbed ourselves dry and got dressed.

Evie uses up the hot water

Back on deck, our guide gave everyone a mug of hot chocolate, and we chugged slowly landward, past a surfacing sperm whale. And then the whole dolphin pod must have got wind that they were losing the day’s playmates, and they sped towards us. Our captain opened up the throttle, and the dolphins surfed our bow wave, speeding past effortlessly as we approached 30kph, leaping out of the water, doing somersaults and back flips in an effort to entice us back in… to share their world and turn us into dolphins once again.

Someone suddenly shouted that a baby dolphin was playing with the adults. We enticed Georgie to have a look, as her interest in the dolphins was marginally less than her interest in the comfy couch inside the boat. We craned our necks to see the tiny little body leap in and out of the water beside the seemingly giant adults. Our guide laughed, and said it was a blue penguin that had come to play with the dolphins. Despite its miniscule size (18 inches at most), the little bird was just as fast as its sleek mammalian neighbours.

As we neared the Kaikoura peninsula, the pod seemed to increase in size until we were completely surrounded by more than six hundred leaping, cavorting dolphins. And then, as quickly as they arrived, they disappeared… back to their own world once again.

The Encounter Kaikoura bus took us the few miles back to town, where Jo offered us lunch in the company’s splendid café. Over delicious food, we discussed the afternoon’s activities. Encounter Kaikoura had booked us in for an albatross trip, but was it fair to put the girls through another three or four hours on the open sea? Both are prone to seasickness, and if Georgie was too young to swim with dolphins, albatrosses and other seabirds were unlikely to ring her bell. Janie and I decided to give them the afternoon off, and let them roam the Top 10 campsite’s playground and huge bouncy cushion. I would enjoy the albatross encounter alone.

Chilling after lunch, before the albatross encounter

Our guide, Alistair Judkins, greeted his six clients and led us to a minivan. We drove back to south Kaikoura’s little harbour to find that the sea conditions were even better than in the morning. We boarded a small launch, and headed into the sunlit ocean. After half an hour or so, once we were above the Kaikoura canyon, Alistair switched off the engine. We rolled gently in the swell as he dug out a large lump of frozen fish liver, put it in a net, and swung it over the back of the boat. Within minutes, a giant northern petrel arrived, landed noisily, and began tearing at the fish liver ice cream. Another petrel arrived, and then a shearwater, and a black-backed gull. The squabbling began, as we watched from a few feet away. But no albatrosses. Alistair switched on the engine and chugged a few hundred yards. The birds circling our boat quickly attracted more interest. Alistair pointed, and we saw the 3.5m wingspan of a wandering albatross approach us, effortlessly.

The 3m wingspan of a wandering albatross

He glided past, circled once for a closer inspection, then came in to land. The other birds quickly deferred to this giant of the southern ocean… for a few seconds. Pecking orders were re-established, the squabbling began anew, and the ice cream feast continued. Until another wandering albatross arrived. And then a royal albatross. And more petrels. And gulls.

Alistair moved the boat a few hundred yards every 15 minutes, both to attract more types of bird and to allow us to watch the albatrosses in the air. On the surface of the sea they look like giant gulls, as large as swans – but with a predatory curved beak. Once in the air, they are transformed into magnificent gliders, their triple-jointed wings spreading in an impossibly wide and straight line across the sky.

Squabbling over fish liver ice cream

We learned a great deal about the birds from Alistair, who has spent time guiding off the west coast of Scotland and is about to do the same off Canada’s Vancouver island. Albatrosses, like us, mate for life, and are known to reach 65 years of age. Unlike us, they have a lower divorce rate… only 8pc! Once they are fledged, they will spend around three to five years on and above the ocean before returning to land. They will spend one season at a “teenage” albatross colony, where they will party hard before choosing their lifelong partner, and will mate a year or so later.

Alistair recorded all the birds we saw (and even knew some of them by name!). For all you twitchers, this is who came for the day’s liver ice cream:

1 northern royal albatross

2 southern royal albatrosses

8 Gibson’s wandering albatrosses

3 black-browed (sub-antarctic) albatrosses (mollymawks)

5 New Zealand white-capped albatrosses (mollymawks)

2 Buller’s southern albatrosses (mollymawks)

5 giant northern (nelly) petrels

8 westland petrels

4 white-chinned petrels

30 cape pigeons (petrels)

3 common diving petrels

2 Buller’s shearwaters

1 sooty shearwater

And a noisy gaggle of black-backed and red-billed gulls

As we sped back to Kaikoura in the late afternoon light, the dolphin pod came to greet us… and it looked like the full 1,000 duskys in the canyon had come to play. The ocean was full of dolphins leaping and jumping, the snow-capped peaks of the Kaikoura mountains gleamed… the place is fabulous.

The best of Kaikoura

I met Janie and the girls, and we found a takeaway close to the campsite for our first taste of fish and chips, New Zealand style. Yes, cod, but not as we know it in the motherland. Blue cod, for a start. In light, tasty batter. With crisp, buttery chips. Washed down with a Marlborough Pinot Gris. As deliciously good as a day floating above the Kaikoura canyon.

See what all the fuss is about at: www.encounterkaikoura.co.nz

Highway 1 sweeps towards Kaikoura beside beaches like this

We woke to a beautiful morning, and had breakfast out in the field. We drove to a supermarket in Blenheim and stocked up on a few critical essentials, like porterhouse steak and beer. And then we set off south over the hills and down the coast road towards Kaikoura.

And what a road… seals slumbering in the sun on every headland, snow-capped peaks glimmering to our right, and to our left the mighty Pacific stretching endlessly to Antarctica.

We reached Kaikoura (which the locals call Kaikouda) around lunchtime, and checked into the Top 10 campsite. Forget whale and albatross watching, and swimming with dolphins and seals… all the children wanted to do was bounce on the vast air-inflated “cushion” in the playground. You’ve got to hand it to the Top 10 crew… they know how to keep the kids happy. And happy kids = happy Mums and Dads.

We managed to drag them away from the bouncy cushion at 3pm, sneaked across the railway tracks to the Whale Watch Kaikoura centre on the beach, and checked in. Whale Watch Kaikoura is a super-slick operation. Set up and owned by the local Maori iwi over 20 years ago, when Kaikoura was a sleepy little hamlet living off slim pickings from Highway 1, the business is now the biggest employer in town and is THE main reason why Kaikoura is in big letters on New Zealand’s tourist map. They own five or six impressive luxury launches, with a top observation deck and gangways all around for camera-snapping punters like us to gawp at the big marine mammals… if you’re lucky enough to spot ‘em. And a large flat-screen TV for a whale video presentation, given by a cool and charismatic young Maori dude while the launch speeds out to sperm whale zone.

Why are there so many marine mammals around Kaikoura? Because of the 6,000ft canyon just a kilometre or two offshore. From this uber-deep canyon swirl up vast quantities of organic fish food from the Antarctic – plankton, krill, squid, fish… it’s a free marine hypermarket.

Did we see sperm whales?

Professional whale spotters

Yes, three! Armed with advanced echo-sounders and hydrostatic earphones, and using local knowledge and radio contact with other boats and helicopters (you can view the whales from the air too), our cap’n successfully located a number of whales. They spend about seven minutes on the surface before diving for up to 50 minutes, and the best bit, of course, is when they sound… as their massive tail rises into the air. Sperm whales are small compared with the blues, but still massive at over 30 tonnes.

Simon the sperm whale

The swell was slight by Pacific standards, but still noticeable. Georgie and Evie were both feeling seasick, but the excitement of the first whale-spot erased all nausea, and they had a blast, racing outside, pointing, shouting, gawping. The first whale breached, then spouted a misty blast of spray which had the delicate aroma of a gannet’s rubbish tip.

The sun shone, the snow-capped Kaikoura mountains glistened, and we all gazed in wonder at the whales, the bay… the place. And on the way back to harbour, a huge pod of dusky dolphins swam passed us, leaping and cavorting as they showed off their aquatic dominance.

We had supper in an organic café just outside the Top 10 campsite, then went to bed knowing that tomorrow promised… swimming with dolphins!

We said our temporary farewells to Chris and family, and drove Herbie to catch the 8.15am Interislander ferry to Picton on the South Island – the one-way trip is part of our prize. We had a dodgy UK style breakfast as the ferry sailed out of the harbour into the Cook Strait. Janie and the girls settled into the mini-cinema to watch Monsters vs Aliens, while I settled on the top deck to watch the world slip by. I could see the snow-capped peaks of the Kaikoura mountains, where we planned to meet a marine animal or two in a few days. The sea was calm in what can be an atrocious crossing, with barely a swell. The misty valleys around Wellington receded as the mountains around Queen Charlotte Sound loomed ever nearer. The huge vessel (which used to ply the Portsmouth-Cherbourg route across the English Channel) entered the narrow sound as the girls reappeared, and we watched the hills and inlets pass from the top deck.

We arrived in Picton after three and a half hours, and drove to the waterfront to find the “Have Your Say” truck – a TNZ mobile film unit that records visitors’ viewpoints on film, edits them, adds a few digital pictures and then uploads the file to You Tube. Manager Brad Kirner was super-helpful, and even managed to download Janie’s digital camera images onto an I-site (tourist information office) memory stick, which he then gave us. If you want to have a laugh, check out our clip… we ain’t gonna be film stars!

http://www.youtube.com/purenzhaveyoursay?v=JIMrA6iApjo

We picked up Highway 1 once again, and drove the 90 minutes or so to Blenheim, and then a few miles out of town to Wine Tours By Bike, “the best way to explore the Marlborough wine region”. Nigel Hart, the Englishman who runs the show, directed us to his large mowed field, surrounded by vineyards, where we parked Herbie. And then he showed us the bikes. He had managed to procure two tagalongs (towalongs in Kiwi speak) for Evie and Georgie, and each bike had a special pannier for carrying wine bottles! Great idea. He talked us through the Marlborough Wine Trail map, recommended a few vineyards, and off we went in the sunshine.

On yer bikes!

For five minutes.

Georgie felt very unsafe behind me, and was therefore deeply unhappy in that no-nonsense six-year-old way that suffers no compromise, while Janie and Evie were wobbling around like a plate of jelly.

The only solution was for Janie and Georgie to return to Herbie for some quiet time, where Nigel was more than happy to give us a partial refund. I managed to cajole Evie to join me on a truncated wine tour to the smart Highfield Estate vineyard about four miles away.

I was expecting the usual no-nonsense Kiwi welcome. But no. Not at a smart Marlborough vineyard. It’s all tres Chablis, darlings. We were greeted with limited enthusiasm by the snooty French head waiter in the tasting room/restaurant, who eyed my cycle helmet, jeans and daughter with obvious displeasure.

"Young and a little presumptuous," says wine connoisseur Eve Lunn (eight)

Evie and I tasted a variety of Chardonnays, Sauvignon Blancs and Rieslings, which were all good without being wonderful… not quite up to the delicious Golden Ridge old vine Chardonnay that I discovered on my first visit to an Auckland Countdown supermarket. We sat outside on the verandah, ordered a plate of freshly baked baguette, aioli and dips, and a $10 (£4) glass of Chardonnay, and gazed over the vine-clad Marlborough valley, which is surrounded by dry hills. Again, like so much NZ scenery, quite beautiful.

Inspired Coleridge-like by Chardopium, I realised that we still had time to cycle back to Herbie and drive to another vineyard with Janie and Georgie for one more tasting. So off we biked, downhill. What had taken us nearly an hour uphill into the wind took a mere 15 minutes back. We jumped into Herbie, burnt some rubber and headed for the vineyard with the latest closing time, River Farm Wines. Here was the Kiwi welcome! One room, one girl and four wines to sample. And never have we had such a delicious Pinot Gris! Check it out if you can – River Farm single vineyard Pinot Gris 2007, costing around £10 a bottle. “The wine has rich, ripe flavours of pear, quince and melon. A creamy mouth feel gives way to a lingering, dry finish.” Couldn’t put it better myself!

Breakfast in the vineyard

We parked Herbie in Nigel’s field, which we had all to ourselves, and the girls and I ran around in the sunshine while Mum cooked supper… washed down with some excellent wine, naturally!

Herbie in Nigel's field, surrounded by Marlborough's vineyards

Thanks, Nigel, for an inspired vinous visit.

Check out www.winetoursbybike.co.nz for more details.

Chris, Georgie and I at The Sanctuary

What a beautiful morning! Whoever named the city “Windy Welly” is obviously deluded. Not a whisper of wind, and not a cloud in the sky.

Frank was still asleep, having chatted with his Mum and Dad about the course of his life (in other words, starting a career) until 2am. The rest of us decided over breakfast that Evie and Georgie would not thank us for a long tour of Wellington’s bicultural (Maori and pakeha, or outsider) museum of NZ heritage, Te Papa – which means “our space”, or “our treasure chest”. Evie maybe, but Georgie has the attention span of a mollusc. Chris volunteered to drive us into town and join the guided tour organised for us by TNZ, so off we trekked. Bill Whelan was our guide, a straight-talking, white-haired outdoorsman of wide knowledge, who will soon be publishing a book on the possible inspiration behind Coleridge’s The Ancient Mariner, based on a chance encounter by Captain James Cook with a wandering albatross in a South Island sound in the 1760s. Bill led us on a wonderful tour, which lasted two hours and barely seemed to scratch the surface of this amazing treasure trove.

Janie loved the social history of the Maori and the early settlers, especially the story of the young Kiwi soldier in WW1 who lived for the little messages of faith and hope scratched into the bullet casings that he used in the trenches in France. He survived the war, went to London, found the factory where the shells were made, and tracked down the young woman who had created the words that had given him so much hope. They fell in love, married, returned to NZ and lived a long and happy life. From filth comes beauty. Chris enjoyed the carved Maori meeting house, while I loved the huge anchor in the main hallway. It belonged to a French explorer who visited NZ many years before James Cook. Monsieur was anchored in what is now Wellington harbour, but had to throw one of his anchors overboard to free his vessel from rocks before sailing home. There’s a symmetry somewhere with the Rainbow Warrior.

We saw a preserved giant squid, multimedia maps of NZ forestation, geological fault lines, Maori and pakeha art, a functioning marae… and much more. A fantastic museum in a wonderful setting. Thanks Bill!

See www.tepapa.govt.nz for more information.

We drove home for a tasty lunch cooked by Kristen, whom I now revere as a kitchen goddess. And then all of us bar Kristen drove up Welly’s steep hills to The Sanctuary (recently renamed Zealandia), a whole valley in the mist of the city (and right on the fault line between the Pacific and Australasian plates) fenced off from introduced predators and home to many endangered indigenous species of birds and lizards. It has 34km of tracks through forests, beside streams and over lakes and dams. We heard lots of birdsong, saw a few rare birds and enjoyed a fabulous meander in the sunshine. Once again, thank you TNZ, and Zealandia, for allowing the whole family in gratis.

For more details, go to www.sanctuary.org.nz

We drove to Island Bay’s beach, where the kids vented yet more energy at one of NZ’s many cleverly designed playgrounds, and then went home to meet Frank – a cool, arty, skateboarding 19-year-old who has now explored Sydney’s graffiti scene and wants to do the same in Barcelona and Berlin. But he also recognises that some sort of career may be necessary. And that money helps.

Good luck, mate. Sweet as!

We had a delicious dinner of spag bol (for Georgie) at Kristen’s parents, Don and Paddianne. Don is president of New Zealand Cricket, so has plenty of tales to tell of trips all over the world on test match tours. The children impolitely stuffed themselves stupid and then bounced on the trampoline. Wonderful!

Hmmm... Kiwi antipasto

Haven in a seven-hour road trip

Saturday 11 April

A long day of driving, which began with a farewell wander around the hot springs. Then we were off, south to the Tongariro National Park and what the Kiwis call the desert road… an empty high altitude plateau of heather and tough grass, and distant, snow-capped volcanoes.

First stop was a settlement on the edge of existence, where we scoffed home-made pies, downed a coffee and filled up with diesel… which, at $0.98 per gallon (40p) is ridiculously cheap compared with the UK. And then on, down Highway 1, the main road between Wellington and Auckland. At times, it was virtually empty, with a passing lane every five kilometres or so. But stunning scenery.

We stopped for lunch in a nondescript town called Bulls, after spotting what looked like a typical avant garde NZ café… not a sad, down-at-heel place like so many cafes at home, but a seriously arty gastro-caff in a converted old bank, with stunning photography on the walls. And stunning food. For $25 (£10), Janie and I had an antipasto platter with a glass of sherry each, which included olives, smoked salmon, stuffed peppers, steak skewers, pickled mushrooms, homemade houmus, chorizo and homemade bread.

And then on. And on, and on. We reached Wellington, which sits on the fault between the Pacific and Australasian plates, and appears to be a long series of steep valleys with lots of pretty houses with manicured English gardens. And not very big. And surrounded by ocean… very much an end-of-the-world feel to it, with bright Antarctic light all around. The southern hemisphere equivalent of Vancouver.

We tracked down Jackson Road in Island Bay, and were welcomed by my cousin Chris, his partner of 25 years Kristen, and their 14-year-old son Harry. Frank, 19, was due in from Sydney late that night. We parked Herbie on the steep road outside and settled in for a family meal. I was hoping to go to the airport to meet Frank for the first time ever, but tiredness overwhelmed us all.