A long, long time ago, before the world was fully formed, the Maori warrior
Kupe wrestled with a giant octopus in the Pacific Ocean. As the battle
raged, the monstrous cephalopod reached out and grasped the northwestern tip
of the South Island of New Zealand. Its flailing tentacles gouged out the
maze of narrow channels and small bays that would one day be known as the
Marlborough Sounds.
Fast-forward a few aeons, and beneath those same perfect blue skies I, like
the great Kupe before me, am wrestling with a monster of the deep. The only
difference is that I am on a luxury yacht. Also that I have a glass of
sauvignon blanc in one hand. And that the quivering seabeast is a mussel – a
meaty colossus among molluscs, twice the size of its blue-shelled European
brethren – that has been freshly steamed over white wine and garlic.
Perhaps it was the influence of the “sexy savvy”, as the Kiwis call their
favourite tipple, but it seemed to me that Kupe would have approved of a
scene he was instrumental in creating. I was one of a dozen tourists
cruising the beautiful Kenepuru Sound, getting lightly sozzled in the
afternoon sun and marvelling at the sight of mussels being plucked from the
500m-long ropes on which they are grown, to be cooked and served with wedges
of lemon and sprigs of parsley.
He’d have approved, I think, because the natural beauty of the land he
bestrode remains relatively untouched by humankind. These waterways resemble
Norway’s fjords or the lakes of northern Italy before the Romans began to
clutter the hillsides with their villas. Except, of course, that their
character is unique. And a little surreal.
The previous day, for the first time in my life, I had ventured out on the
glassy blue deep in a kayak, with Kath, an instructor at the Bay of Many
Coves Resort. The tranquillity of the waters, the quiet – interrupted only
by the whisper of a breeze and the cries of cormorants – and the vegetation
cascading down the hillsides to the water’s edge made it a struggle to
remind myself that I was not on a lake, that this was seawater dripping from
my paddle. On our return we encountered a pair of dolphins, a mother and
calf that are regular visitors to the area near the resort’s jetty.
There are no roads to the Bay of Many Coves – the only way to reach it is by
water taxi. On the morning following our mussel feast we sped across the
Sounds once more – past pods of dusky dolphins and seals intent on pilfering
from a salmon farm – towards Ship Cove and the start of the Queen Charlotte
Track.
Captain James Cook had anchored the Endeavour here for three weeks in 1770 to
make repairs. It must have suited him, because he returned on subsequent
voyages. Like Kupe, he would find the place little changed, and it’s not
hard to imagine his first impressions of this bewitching country. It must
have seemed, as it did to me, a kind of Eden.
New Zealanders relish the great outdoors – everyone seems to spend some time
hiking, camping, sailing and mountain biking – and thank goodness, for it
would be a terrible waste of a country were they a nation of couch potatoes.
One of the consequences is that trails such as the Queen Charlotte are broad
and neat, well mapped and well signed. Ups and downs aside, negotiating them
could not be easier, with rest and accommodation points to cover journeys
lasting from a couple of hours to several days.
Our stroll towards Resolution Bay and Furneaux Lodge took us through the
strangest forest. There were the whoops of exotic birds and encounters with
tree ferns that made it feel tropical. Yet the temperate climate and the
absence of menacing creepy-crawlies – there are no snakes in New Zealand,
and only one species of poisonous spider – made it feel as dangerous as
walking through an English beech wood. It was jungle-lite, you might say.
When we stopped for lunch, we were assailed by a pair of scavenging wekas, a
faintly comical flightless bird that many visitors mistake for a kiwi. I was
astonished to discover that, before man introduced rats, goats, pigs and the
like, there were no mammals indigenous to New Zealand. Not even hobbits.
A marvellous aspect of this beguiling corner of the world is the fact that, at
the end of a day enjoying the magical outdoors, one can return to the
comforts of a stylish boutique hotel. More than 11,000 native shrubs have
been planted to help the Bay of Many Coves Resort blend as naturally as
possible into its surrounds.
Yet it boasts a restaurant whose elegant bar, lofty cedarwood ceilings and
enormous windows – not to mention outstanding cuisine – would make it an instant hit in London, Madrid or New York. The bedroom of my chalet, all
natural light and wood, had one wall that was entirely glass, the top half
of which opened at waist height to offer a view comprising three layers:
azure waters, green-clad hills and sky.
As I gazed out, I spotted the two dolphins – mother and calf – I had seen
earlier, frolicking about 20 yards from shore. I sat on the verandah to
watch them, poured myself a glass of sauvignon blanc from nearby Cloudy Bay,
and gave thanks to the great Kupe for making it all possible.
Australia Pacific Touring’s four-day Marlborough Regional Experience costs
from £625pp, based on two sharing, and includes one dinner and three
breakfasts, gourmet food and wine tours, cruises on the Marlborough Sounds
and all transfers (0845 6036738; www.aptouring.co.uk).
Air New Zealand Pacific economy class fares start at £689 including taxes
(0800 0284149; www.airnewzealand.co.uk)
