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.

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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)

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