Maori folklore has its own explanation for the sinking mountains. According to the myth, New Zealand's South Island was formed eons ago when curious gods descended from the heavens to explore, and being so far away from their source of power, capsized their great canoe. The giant keel rose to form the snow-bound Southern Alps, and its intricate carved prow shattered and partially sank to become the Marlborough Sounds.

We began our adventure in Havelock, a small fishing village on a large estuary sheltered by round green hills. Because Bill and I decided to go without a guide, we met with Steve Maley, owner of the Wilderness Company, the night before to discuss logistics and equipment. The next morning, Steve picked us up outside our cabin -- his van brimming with gear and a trailer toting two single 13-foot sea kayaks.

Although I have done a fair amount of paddling, this was my first time on an overnight trip. I took one look at the equipment and declared, "No way all that stuff is going to fit!"

"Wait and see," Steve countered, with Bill nodding in agreement.

Sure enough, when we glided into the water later that morning, we had a small tent, winter sleeping bags, inflatable mattresses, a Coleman stove, first aid kit, binoculars, food for three days, clothes, toiletries and a bottle of red wine carefully wrapped in towels. All of it fit into the sealed fore and aft compartments of our kayaks, with room to spare.

"The scene looked like a remnant of the Great Flood, and I imagined us to be present-day Noahs."

We put in at Tennyson Inlet, one of the more remote parts of the Sounds, an hour's drive from Havelock. On the way there we passed patchworks of farms chiseled into denuded hills, inhabited by droopy-eyed sheep, frolicking lambs and grumpy cows. The road then wends through the tangled podocarp (native evergreens) and beech forest of the Opouri Valley, and climbs 1,700 feet to a plateau. The view was as sudden as it was dramatic. Stretched before us were the blue reaches of the inner Sounds with mountain peaks peering from the depths and forlorn islands scattered about. The scene looked like a remnant of the Great Flood, and I imagined us to be present-day Noahs.

The Sounds have long been a popular summer destination for Kiwis. Summer houses decorate the shorelines, and the outer reaches are playgrounds for large sailboats and motorboats. But the Tennyson Inlet remains virtually untouched and unpopulated. In the three days we paddled there, I saw only three recreational fishing boats and two other sea kayaking parties.

The waters are rife with fish -- 200 species -- as well as dolphins, seals and whales. The more exotic fish include the blue-green butterfish, groupers, blue cod, dogfish and fearless leatherjackets. Rays settle on the sandy bottom, warranting a cautious check before stepping out of your kayak. While whales tend to stay in the outer Sounds, orcas are sometimes seen in the inner Sounds where we were, especially after a storm in the Cook Strait.

We paddled a leisurely 30 miles over three days, taking our time to explore every nook and cove. Each day, we launched our kayaks in late morning and set up camp in early evening. Lunches were quiet picnics on pebbled beaches tucked away in small bayous and consisted of peanut butter and honey sandwiches. We were determined to take the rush out of our lives, even if just for three days.