On a whale trail

My proficiency in map-reading has never been an ability I'd proclaim from the rooftops. I'm not the kind of person who can glance at a directional diagram and transform it into 3D in his mind and relate to the place he is in with reference to that map. Give me a talking GPS and I'll find my way.

But I really don't need a map to find my way from Christchurch to Kaikoura in New Zealand's South Island. The streets and junctions are so lucidly signposted that, within 15 minutes, I have negotiated my way from the city centre to SH1 and am pointing the nose of the Toyota RAV 4 towards Kaikoura, a 170km drive north of Christchurch.

About 50km along the road is the Pegasus Bay Winery and Restaurant. It is a lovely place to break for lunch. The views from the garden are fantastic and reminiscent of being in a vineyard in France or Italy. The food is fresh and organic and mainly sourced locally. I had the Muscovy duck and it was sublime.

Continuing on the drive: It is fantastic, especially with the last 22km of the route sinuously hugging the south Pacific.

Long before the first Europeans arrived here, the Maori inhabited Kaikoura, which literally means "Eat crayfish". Living up to its nomenclature, eating Kaikoura crayfish makes for one of the best lobster experiences you can have in the South Pacific. Not just crayfish, thanks to the geographical peculiarities of ocean currents and continental shelving, there is an abundance of wildlife around here, from fur seals, dolphins, penguins and shearwaters to petrels and albatrosses. The sea bed gradually slopes away from land before plunging 2700 feet, where the southerly current hits the continental shelf. This creates an upwelling, bringing nutrients from the ocean floor up into the feeding zone.

What I am here for - and probably what most tourists come to Kaikoura for - is to see whales. In fact, the Europeans established a whaling station here in 1842 that continued to flourish right until 1922. After that was put to an end, the sea and the sheep farming continued to sustain the community.

The next morning I stand holding on to the grab rail of the Wheketere, a whale-watching boat, staring wide-eyed with wonder as a sperm whale blows fountains into the sky as it lazes on the surface of the Pacific, a stone-throwing distance from the boat.

The Wheketere is one of the boats that Whale Watch Kaikoura operates. It is a modern catamaran that minimises underwater noise by using Hamilton jet units. They also have an internal propeller, thereby eliminating the risk of a propeller-strike with marine mammals.

Besides the Wheketere, the Whale Watch Company operates three vessels, all fitted with special tracking listening devices that can pinpoint the location of whales from up to 3km away. As soon as the pilot picks up a sound like clicking fingers, the boat's directional device tells him where the whale emitting the sound is, and he heads in that direction. Meanwhile, crew on top of the boat keep a lookout for the tell-tale spray of a whale-exhale.

The sight of a whale in real life can make you blink your eyes in disbelief: The one before my eyes, for instance, is 20m long, two metres more than the boat. As we look on, he seems to sense our presence and puts up quite a show, blowing out plumes of spray till, at some point, he tires of being the cynosure of all eyes and dives underwater with a signature tail splash.

So dependable are the whales here - the success rate is 98% - that companies will generally refund up to 80% of the ticket cost if these majestic creatures actually prove elusive. It is also possible to watch whales from the air in a helicopter, but these sightings are shorter and more expensive. On the flip side, you get to see the whale in its entirety from the air, rather than just the tail or the spout as is the case from a boat.

Once I am back on land, I drive from the whale-watching pier to Fyffe Quay and park there. This is the start of the Kaikoura Peninsula Walkway, a 3.5-hour loop. On my walk from Point Kean along the cliffs to South Point, I come across a family of fur seals. The mamma seal seems to be having quite a rough day managing mischievous baby seals. Then I see red-billed seagulls and mutton bird (also called shearwater birds) colonies. They are as noisy as a group of schoolkids. At lookout points, there are interesting interpretive panels that make the walk even more enjoyable.

I have just one night there, so a lot of research and asking around goes into making the choice of where to eat. The name that keeps popping up is the Green Dolphin. It sounds like the name of a seaside pub but, in fact, is a fantastic restaurant on Avoca Street. I sigh with disappointment when I see the number of people waiting outside, but, probably taking pity on my solo status, the waitress gives me a conspiratorial wink, tells me to enjoy a drink at the bar or in the garden and, in about 20 minutes, leads me to a table by the floor-to-ceiling windows. The menu has a lot of options from the shed, the sty and the sea. Of course, I opt for the local crayfish. It arrives oven-baked with mesclun salad and lime horseradish butter. To say that it is delicious is an understatement.

Even today when I think of Kaikoura, in my mind I see the whale diving underwater with a majestic wave of his tail and my head fills with the delicious aroma of that meal at the Green Dolphin.