Wine tasting, The Figgury, and family lamb dinner.

After a lovely sleep — the main corridor of this airy, modern house has footlights on motion sensors at night — David dressed to climb Te Mata, the mountain behind the house, leaving Cynthia asleep at 7:15.

David ran up, down and around the many volcanic hills behind Tod and Kate’s, uncertain of the many trails’ ultimate destinations but enjoying the cool, mist-shrouded morning. Many of the paths that he follows leading to the wrong side of the wrong mountain are soft under layers of needles from towering white pines and Norway pines. Eventually, his unerring sense of direction and blind luck find him on a variety of paths marked forbidden to hikers and reserved either for sheep, mountain bikers, or abseilers. Determined to be a scofflaw on every possible land mass, he takes every forbidden path and winds up on Te Mata’s summit by 8:30. Its sides are so craggy and steep that he fears to stand, crawling around on the four-square foot summit as swirling mists almost immediately obscure his view east of a lush wide plain fanning east what may be a lake glinting silver in the distance. Beautiful climb.

Katie, her father-in-law, David, David’s wife, Pat, Cynthia and David have a leisurely morning fueled by double espressos from the Breville machine that grinds its own beans and will make an appearance in the Grant’s D.C. kitchen immediately upon our return. Then off to the Hawkes Bay wineries, famous for their reds rather than whites.

First up is Elephant Hill, which sits on a coastal road near the south end of Hawkes Bay, which is lined with cliffs and sports a gannet colony like Muriwai. The several Jaguars, BMWs and Range Rovers in the parking lot prepare us for the ultra-modern tasting room, with sunken conversation pit for clients who purchase the 48-buck cheese assortment with their tasting flight, and white table-clothed dining room behind. We all sample several and D&C, served by Paul Miguet, a young Frenchman here to learn wines from the ground, buy two Syrahs and a mostly Merlot mix (Cab S and Malbec).

On to Clearview, just down the road, where we park under a few avocado trees that give meaning to “high hanging fruit.” Cynthia tries to get a bite to eat in the restaurant but is turned down. Though the terrace of tables with blue umbrellas is not full, the restaurant is totally booked. Cynthia likes the rose and the Cabernet and buys a bottle to take with us to Wellington to share with the McInerneys.

Back to Tod and Kate’s for dinner. The pre-dinner entertainment is David, who doesn’t realize the air rifle that Tod and his son Fletcher, who is a crack shot at the paper target 50 feet away, has a kick. David gives himself a cut and black eye when the scope smacks back. Stupid brain!

A delicious meal of legs of lamb, roasted potatoes and carrots, bright green peas, the two Elephant Hill Syrahs, a Clearview rose and all nine of us around the dining room table. A few songs at the end of the meal and bed.

Another day in Paradise.