There’s a new course in town down at Gibbston Valley, where the first grapes were planted back in 1981, like promises buried in stoney terroir. What started as a few vines has become a place where wine lovers and valley lovers set up home among the vines. The whole valley is now covered in wineries from start to finish – you can’t swing a sand wedge without hitting a Pinot Noir.

Traditionally, it was Gibbston and Chard Farm as the two main operations, but the valley’s grown up since then. Now there’s a tavern, restaurants where you can listen to live music on a Sunday afternoon (the kind that makes you forget what day it is), and a cycle trail that lets you weave and wobble your way through vineyards sampling the local delights. Top it off with a wood-fired pizza at the Gibbston Valley Tavern, and you’ve got yourself an afternoon that golf can’t quite compete with – though it tries. At the gateway to the valley stands the original bungee bridge, opened in 1988. As a monument to the peculiar human desire to throw oneself off things for entertainment.

The addition of a luxury housing estate called “The Reserve” came with Gibbston Valley Golf Club, nine holes that materialised like an afterthought to wealth. The original plan was to keep it private, for residents only, the way some folk like to keep nice things to themselves. There’s a lodge and spa club and other such amenities if you’re into that sort of membership, but here’s the thing – the golf course is now open to the common golfer. After a brief private opening (long enough to let the champagne go flat), it’s available to anyone willing to part with $95 for nine holes. That’s steep country for your average hacker, the kind of green fee that makes you think twice about where that tee shot’s heading.

I haven’t made it there yet, but I will when the moment seems right and my wallet feels brave. Word is there are no distance markers – you’ll need a friend with a rangefinder or a very good eye for lies, both the ones on the ground and the ones you tell yourself about club selection. There are a couple of shared greens too, which suggests they were working with what space they had, squeezing golf out of a valley that already had other ideas. But it’s good to have another course in the collection, another place to lose balls and find excuses.

Now, as I introduce the new to you, I must apologise for forgetting the old. The Royal and Ancient Frankton Golf and Country Club Resort International – a name longer than some of its holes – sits in Frankton, cuddled up next to the airport like a dog waiting for its owner to come home.

It’s got a driving range with what used to be the best little golf shop in the South Island, until a small fire recently sent it into temporary exile in a portacabin. Still, you can get a bucket of balls and hit them without any technical wizardry telling you how far they went, which is merciful, really, when you’re just trying to work out the knots in your swing. There’s something honest about hitting balls without the numbers judging you.

The nine holes here run short and long, some taking you down the side of the airport where there usually is, and always will be, an aeroplane taking off or landing during your round. If you’re a plane lover, it’s paradise. If you’re not, it’s still golf, which is its own kind of heaven and hell combined. I’d recommend playing Frankton when you’re in Queenstown – it won’t take long, the views down the lake are the kind that make scorecards irrelevant, and it’s a fine little nine-hole course that deserves more attention than it gets.

Here’s a thought: if you’re heading to the airport, arrive a couple of hours early, hit some balls, play nine holes, then stroll across to your flight. I’m fairly certain the fellow in the shop would look after your luggage. He seems the type.

I’ve moved to Queenstown full-time now – lucky me, lucky Queenstown, I suppose. I’m a member at Arrowtown, which happens to be the first golf course I ever played in New Zealand, back when it had no fairway watering and before anyone thought to call it one of the country’s finest. Some wags call it “Narrowtown” on account of the fairways being tight as a miser’s grip, and the driving holes demanding the kind of accuracy that most of us only dream about after three pints. But don’t let that put you off – it’ll be the rough that gets you if you stray.

I’ve added some photos of playing Arrowtown at dawn, when the sun rises and the course reveals itself like a secret told slowly. It’s a magical spot, make no mistake. We’ve got 2 courses at Millbrook nearby (which recently hosted the Open again), The Hills and Jack’s Point, and Queenstown Golf Club, but Arrowtown should be on your list if you’re choosing where to play in these parts. The club’s a proper golf club where members love their golf and each other’s company in equal measure – the kind of place where the 19th hole matters as much as the first.

I’m up to 31% of New Zealand’s golf courses played now. Things are going well, which is to say I’m running out of excuses not to visit the far-flung corners of this golfing nation. Being in Queenstown helps – courses cluster around here like moths to a flame – and it’ll accelerate my journey toward all 387 golf courses that now exist in New Zealand. That’s a revised number.

I squeezed in a round at Lake Hawea not long ago – a nice flat track for holiday makers, just outside Wanaka. Worth stopping for if you’re passing through that beautiful, achingly beautiful part of the country.

A quick message to those at Pegasus: I see the course is closed. I’m not sure what the future holds, but I hope an investor with sense and money swoops in and saves it. I’ve never played Pegasus, which bothers me more than it should, and I sincerely hope you can keep it open – if not for New Zealand’s golfing population, then at least for me and my foolish quest.

There are rumours that other golf courses are opening in this region and beyond, so the current tally stands at 387, I believe. If you need the full list, it’s right here on the website, waiting like a challenge you didn’t ask for but can’t ignore.

Happy golfing, golfers. If you’re ever in Otago visiting Queenstown, I’d love to have a hit. The rounds are long, the views are longer, and the stories afterwards are longer still.