Catch the breeze in Auckland

We woke to the usual soothing boat noise: "slooossssh-slap" of water on hull. Then, through the open hatch came the eerily close "baaaa" of a sheep. We were anchored in a tiny cove about 20 minutes as the seagull flies from downtown Auckland and on the hillside above the pinky-beige curve of sand, several sheep had gathered for a morning gossip.

What a difference a day makes. Landing from London early on a humid morning, an hour later we were boarding our chartered 44ft sloop at Westhaven Marina, 15 minutes' walk from Auckland's main street. We motored out past the America's Cup bases, beyond gleaming glass office blocks, crossing the path of commuter ferries from the North Shore.

"Where shall we head?" asked our skipper, Charles, spreading out the charts as his wife, Annie, passed around tea and croissants.

If there's a drawback to sailing out of Auckland it's that there's almost too much choice: the islands of the inner Hauraki Gulf (Waiheke, Rangitoto, Motutapu) offer countless anchorages, only an hour from downtown.

Further east are the hidden coves of the Coromandel Peninsula. To the north is Kawau Island - the social mecca for Auckland's yachties - and, beyond it, Great Barrier, with its pristine bays. "After 27 years of sailing here, I still haven't explored it all," Charles said with a grin.

We headed for Waiheke with clouds gathering. A visit to the island's Goldwater vineyard seemed a great idea. Two hours later we returned, soaked with rain, laden with bottles of rosè, Chardonnay and Cabernet Merlot and ready for a nap. We woke to a late evening sun and a sky filled with puffy, pink-tinted clouds. " Surprised you," grinned Charles. "The only consistent thing about the weather here is its changeability."

You don't go sailing in New Zealand for endless blue skies and constant trade winds; what you get, instead, is a real adventure, which takes you back to nature, with days of variety and texture. Like the exhilarating sleigh-ride of a sail from Great Barrier to Kawau's dark sapphire-blue water, a perfect breeze, brilliant sunshine, dolphins, gannets wheeling overhead before divebombing into schools of silvery trevally.

And, in contrast, the still, blue afternoon between Waiheke and Coromandel. Different again was Elephant Cove, a natural amphitheatre of dark, towering rocks, where an overnight rain storm sent waterfalls cascading into the calm water.

We hooked snapper and kahawai and Charles showed us how to scale and fillet them for the freshest supper. We dug for pipis (similar to clams) on the beaches. Charles went diving and brought back scallops and a crayfish - the native NZ rock lobster, with a delicately sweet flesh - to our ozone and Chardonnay-fired appetites.

New Zealand had another special ingredient: unpretentious style and the instant, easy rapport with locals and other sailors. Here, like nowhere else in the world, everybody - at least everybody on boats - seems to know somebody else. And if you don't, you soon will.

Scouting for our anchorage at Kawau, we passed a large, elegant motor yacht. Suddenly there was a call: "Hi Charles! Let's have a drink when you're settled." Thus began a memorably funny evening among erstwhile strangers: drinks on our boat, dinner on theirs, the crew and clients enjoying music and laughter well into the small hours, as if we were the oldest of friends.