Wine sampling, fine food, walks and cycling - Justine Southwick creates a perfect break.

Sunshine, rows of vines and postage stamp-sized swimming pools greet me as my plane approaches Blenheim airport. It's 20 years since I was here, but this is just how I remember it.

It's a glorious day and my first stop is the dry, brown Wither Hills that loom over the town. Wither Hills Farm Park is a working farm. Biking is allowed in some parts, but riders are limited to 10kmh.

I walk up past the reservoir and part way up the Taylor View track, which takes an hour each way. The scenery is pleasantly different from the usual bush; the hills are brown and very dry, and there's virtually nothing in the way of trees.

The track is relentlessly steep, and halfway up I collapse gratefully on a bench. All of Blenheim and Marlborough are spread out below me.

I spend the second day making the most of the 60-odd vineyards around Blenheim. Bike tours are popular, but I provide my own and take the independent option. I spend the morning touring Wither Hills and Villa Maria, which I'm told are the two newest.

I don't know what I expected of Wither Hills but it wasn't this imposing structure with white gravel paths that brings to mind Greek villas teetering on cliffs above the ocean. Wither Hills' 2003 chardonnay is on today's tasting list and it topples Oyster Bay, my previous favourite white, from its perch.

Visitors are welcome to wander round the winery so I head downstairs to the cellar, 2004 pinot noir sample in hand, and drink in the delicious oaky smell before moving upstairs for a view of the vines from the balcony.

Five minutes down the road is Villa Maria which, though not as architecturally impressive, is still stunning with its sweeping driveway and immaculate hedges.

Cloudy Bay, on Jackson Rd, has Italian villa-style buildings covered in ivy, and beautiful gardens, but the tasting counter is crowded; there's a lot of ground to cover and I don't wait around. As far as I can tell, Cloudy Bay is the only vineyard of the six or so I visit during my holiday that provides bike stands – odd given the number of bike tours in the region.

Next stop is the Mudhouse, on Rapaura Rd, which has olive oil and vinaigrette samples. The friendly staff assure me everyone splutters and races for water after a taste of the chilli oil. The Mudhouse also sells liqueurs, and next door to the main building is a quilt and craft store.

I head across the road to Makana Confections, where I sample mouth-watering macadamia toffee crunch that makes my teeth stick together. Makana, which has two boutique factories, here and in Kerikeri, specialises in handmade confectionery.

On Saturday I'm treated to a gorgeous lunch at nearby St Clair Estate Winery, which produced its first wines in 1994. We have to wait for an outside table but the staff are excellent and my salmon and cream cheese quiche, complemented by a bottle of sauvignon blanc, is perfection.

St Clair also produces pinot gris, chardonnay, riesling, gewurztraminer, pinot noir and merlot.

I'd planned to walk a day of the Queen Charlotte track on Sunday, but the weather is awful in Picton and I change my mind. I cruise out to Ship Cove anyway, with cyclists and walkers who haven't wimped out, but it is too grey to see much – there's no chance of spotting the dolphins I'm told often swim alongside.

I have a few hours to kill after the 90-minute cruise, so I consult the map and venture on to the Tirohanga Track, which heads uphill from Newgate St. It's 45 minutes to the lookout, and is an uphill slog all the way. But I find walking in the rain so invigorating I can't resist the slightly more crowded Picton walk next.

This starts from Victoria Domain, accessible from Sussex St. It heads along the hilltops above Picton Harbour, and through occasional gaps in the trees I catch glimpses of an Interislander ferry in port. Taking the lower route when the track forks, I head away from Picton toward Bob's Bay. The track is well formed and gently undulating, and has stunning views – made more stunning by the eventual appearance of the sun.

Bob's Bay was accessible only by boat or along the shore at low tide till 1958, when the Rotary Club cut an extension to the Domain track.

Back in Blenheim, I poke around the town's shops. There's a sense of having stepped back in time – there are no traffic lights and, for that matter, very little traffic. Blenheim has kept its old-fashioned charm without sacrificing the conveniences of modern life.