His daughter is now engaged. That's Bruce Munro's excuse for piling seven people into a six-berth camper van on a recent ''tiki tour'' through North Canterbury. But as it turned out, that extra person might well have wished he had stayed home.
I am trying to figure out why I feel somewhat biblical.
The modern Mercedes-Benz camper van is so easy to handle it almost drives itself as we clock up the first few kilometres of a three-day circuit of North Canterbury's scenic plains and coastline.
So, as we head towards Christchurch's Belfast shopping centre to pick up groceries, I have time to wonder why Jonah keeps leaping to mind.
Or is it Noah?
Perhaps it is the prospect of all that lovely warm water we will be soaking in at Hanmer Springs this evening. Or could it be because for years my wife has wanted to take the family on the Whale Watch tour at Kaikoura and it is finally going to happen?
Or, just maybe, it is because the camper van is as loaded to the gunwales with living beings as the proverbial ark.
On board are not only me and my wife and our three sons aged 17, 13 and 11, but also our 19-year-old daughter and her newly engaged fiance. (Yes, they are young, but what can I say?
He's a fine young man, they are committed to making it work, and I wasn't that much older myself when I got engaged). Seven in a six-berth campervan. It's cosy. But we couldn't have left him behind. I hope we aren't about to have 40 days of rain.
The camper van starts to feel as if it is 300 cubits long and 50 cubits wide when I pull in to a space in the supermarket car park. Our tail end is blocking one whole lane, so I begin to reverse in search of larger lodgings.
A horn sounds. I slam on the brakes. No-one there. I reverse. Toot!
I pull forward. Toooot!
Oh no, I think, the campervan's horn is faulty. There is nothing I can do but try to get out of here and sort it out.
The camper van begins a circuit of the car park, horn blaring proudly. It is a good 20 seconds before I realise the handbrake is on, and release it. The car park falls suddenly silent.
Forty minutes later, with our Britz van's commodious storage spaces now stuffed with supplies, we head north across Canterbury's wide plains under a warm autumn afternoon sun.
We slip through the small settlements of Woodend and Amberley, past the Waipara turn-off and into the foothills of Greta Valley.
In my defence I wish to state that there is no signage at the Waipara turn-off suggesting one might also find Hanmer Springs along that road. None, at any rate, that I saw.
At some point, however, the conclusion is reached that we have gone too far, and the van is pointed south again. I can now recommend Scargill Valley Rd as an alternative, and pleasant, but somewhat longer route to Hanmer.
The sun is an afterglow on the horizon when we reach the Hanmer Springs Top 10 Holiday Park. In less than 10 minutes we are supposed to be at the hot pools. Our gracious camping ground hosts say no problem, we can just drive in through the side entrance when we return tonight, and then come see them in the morning.
The Hanmer Springs Thermal Pools & Spa was rated New Zealand's top attraction by public votes that determined AA Tourism's 101 Must-Do activities.
It is obvious why - a picturesque village nestled at the foot of majestic mountains, built around a wonderful hot spring.
The young people are keen to explore and enjoy the hot pools and slides which have been redeveloped since we were last here. The youngest are especially looking forward to the SuperBowl slide, complete with ''plughole'' that sucks users down to the exit chute.
Francesca and I are eagerly anticipating the Spa's new cocktail body treatment, whatever that is.
I've never before been rubbed in sugar and then told to shower. I've also never worn disposable boxer shorts and been asked whether I prefer to be massaged with pina colada, mojito or cranberry cosmopolitan oils.
It is divine.
I have 100 questions for my masseuse. Where did she train?
Does she mind doing this all day? Are some clients troublesome ..? But I barely say a thing, lost in the experience, lulled into a deep state of relaxation.
The shortest route from Hanmer to Kaikoura is via the inland road, State Highway 70.
A bright Sunday morning finds us on that 80km cross-country jaunt, making good time considering the half hour spent at the Hanmer Springs Rd bridge seeking the perfect photograph of the Hanmer Plain and mountains in all their autumnal glory.
The road winds its way along the southern edge of an old river valley, sometimes almost doubling back on itself. The fiance is soon sitting up in the cab to reduce feelings of motion sickness.
We talk about past travels, family, martial arts, even a little philosophy ... anything to divert attention from the undulating, twisting tarseal.
Rejoining the main highway at the coast a few kilometres shy of Kaikoura, we pull over outside the town's golf course. While I phone Whale Watch Kaikoura other members of our party discover the fruit on the roadside apple tree in front of the clubrooms is both ripe and delicious.
On my phone, however, the news isn't so good. The whale tour manager says there has been a mix-up with our bookings for this afternoon's sailing, which is already full. We will have to wait for tomorrow morning's tour.
Suddenly we have several empty hours to fill.
Fortunately, Kaikoura is looking gorgeous - pale azure Pacific Ocean contrasting sharply with a parade of dark Norfolk pines lining an emerald seafront verge, all set with a backdrop of looming snow-capped mountains gnawing at wispy clouds on an opalescent sky.
We split up, depending on whether our interests lie in beach walks, playgrounds, historic buildings or shopping. But are reunited a couple of hours later by a common interest in fish and chips.
During the afternoon we have been told about a must-see attraction. So as the light drains from the sky we race 20km northwards along the coast to the Ohau Waterfall.
Five minutes' walk into the bush, a 10m high waterfall gushes into a large rock- and tree-ringed pool - a pool alive with dozens of writhing young seals.
Each year New Zealand fur seal pups from the nearby coastal colony lollop a couple of hundred metres up a freshwater stream to this aquatic nursery where they cavort in safety while their parents are away fishing.
It is a true natural wonder.
THE kitchen at the Kaikoura Top 10 Holiday Park is spacious and modern. Fortunately it also has good ventilation as we are cooking up a greasy breakfast storm: eggs, bacon, sausages, tomatoes, mushrooms and toast.
Cleaning up is never as quick as hoped, and we are a little late arriving for our whale tour briefing.
But the Whale Watch Kaikoura staff are gracious, and the manager even goes along with the suggestion of allowing the engaged couple to join the tour.
Our daughter had originally said no to the expedition because of her beloved's propensity to feel ill at sea.
But he gallantly says he will accompany her, so it is not long before we are all seated in a large catamaran as it bounces towards the open sea.
Two of the crew have already been out whale-spotting early this morning. So the catamaran is now headed 9km offshore to the area where sonar soundings suggested at least one whale might be feeding.
There is a one-metre swell but little wind. The fiance, however, is already looking a little grim as the vessel surges onwards. Our daughter seems to be going out in sympathy. Their heads are bowed, lips pursed tight, hands gripping the armrests.
Soundings are taken a couple of times. Perhaps we will be unlucky.
Then, finally, about 24km from shore, there it is. People pile out to the handrails and up to the rooftop deck as the skipper cuts power and turns the vessel side-on to the sleek black back of a surfaced sperm whale less than 20m away.
Cameras click incessantly, their operators unsure how much time they have before this behemoth dives deep again. It is awe-inspiring to be this close to one of the planet's largest toothed whales.
As it turns out, we must have arrived not long after it surfaced, because it is almost 10 minutes before the back suddenly disappears and the flukes rise in momentary salute before sliding beneath the waves.
The rocking motion of the vessel is more pronounced when she is at rest like this.
Seasickness grips our youngest, and my wife fetches him a paper bag just in time. He comes undone as he is being led past the seated couple.
Like tumbling dominoes they also lean into their sick bags with guttural gusto.
The catamaran is moving again, headed back towards shore.
To help the time pass more quickly the crew screen a stunning animated video of marine life in the 2km-deep Kaikoura Canyon over which we are travelling.
We are just about to re-enter the shelter of Kaikoura Peninsula's southern side, when the skipper spots two juvenile humpback whales playing with fishing-boat buoys and turns the catamaran to give us a closer look. We cannot believe our luck.
The fiance, however, who had believed his ordeal was about to end, buries his head one more time in the open mouth of his sickbag.
In the row behind him our two unaffected, clearly compassionless boys begin simulated vomiting noises and jokes about regurgitation.
Welcome to the family, Zac.
• Bruce Munro travelled courtesy of AA Tourism, Britz Campervans, and Hanmer Springs and Kaikoura Top 10 Holiday Parks.
