I didn't have the heart to include - in the 'bon voyage' message I sent via satellite a few seconds ago to my wine-loving friend, John Weaver - details about the wonderful wines I enjoyed this weekend. The reason? He has forsaken his cellar for three months and will, for the next month at least, have to limit his consumption to a glass an evening. And, by his own admission, his purchasing decision for this has been driven by price, not by quality.

John is in charge of the galley on the yacht owned by Elgin apple farmers, Niekie and Renee Rust; the yacht which they (that's John, Niekie and four other crew) are sailing to the Antarctic simply to see the Orcas. It's a long story but, one day on the Whale Trail when Niekie was waxing philosophically about how near the end of his three-score-and-ten so-called tenure he was, John convinced him that this was one trip they both needed to do before they die.

I eagerly await the emails John composes from ice-cold internet cafés; they are very descriptive and so different to what I have experienced and, often, I wish I was there, especially when he writes:

One of the yachties we have met is a Bordelaise. He has an island in the Gironde, not far from Mouton Rothschild. He farms mielies of all things but says the Baron is a pal of his and, even though he regularly drinks wine with him, he thinks the prices are silly ... but he wouldn't mind getting similar prices for his mielies!

However, I can't profess the same when the message goes along these lines:

The crew objects to paying more than R35 a bottle. Every now and then I sneak in a more expensive, and thus much better, bottle and they get excited; I tell them the price and they recalibrate their enthusiasm.

Tomorrow, John and Niekie set off for the Drake Passage, sail east of Cape Horn, and on down to Deception Island, which will be their first stop in the Antarctic. I think we'll take one of John's favourite wines out the cellar - a Grangehurst or Kanonkop Paul Sauer - put steak on the braai and boil up some mielies in solidarity.

Sea adventure - in progress.

The wines I didn't want to lord over John, I shared with another John: John Maytham, his wife Penny, Philip, and Caroline Rillema and her husband, Ray, on the laziest of Sundays in the Maytham's dining room. The generous list complementing a truly delicious meal included Jacques Selosse NV and Delamotte 1990 from Champagne; a Zind Humbrecht riesling from the Rangen grand cru vineyard in Alsace and Pur Sang from Pouilly Fumé in the Loire, both from the 1999 vintage; Chateau Hosana 2004 from Pomerol; Matawhero 1989 from Bridge Estate in New Zealand; and Chateau Climens 2005 from Barsac.

As so often happens, the wine that impressed me most was the one I didn't immediately take a shine too. This was, on Sunday, the Pur Sang, made by the late Didier Dagueneau from sauvignon blanc vines planted in the clay and limestone soils of Pouilly Fumé. Initially, the wine had brown onion or garlic flower aromas, a very high acidity and a warm alcoholic 'glow'. Half an hour later, it had opened and changed considerably to show lovely black currant leaf notes on both nose and palate, had a spicy fruit undertone and, despite being 10 years old, had the verve to improve in bottle for several years to come. It had also spent that half an hour in an ice bucket and consequently had lost its alcoholic edge.

By contrast, I suspect the riesling was peaking. Typically Alsatian with higher-than-Germany alcohol, lower-than-Germany acidity, an oilier texture than Austria and quintessential Alsace lime-and-apricot flavours, it appeared quite comfortable with itself. If kept much longer, I think it will develop more turpene notes, which will begin to dominate and detract from its attractiveness.

I also enjoyed the Selosse Brut Rose NV, made by Anselme Selosse, from fruit grown bio-dynamically in Avize, Oger, and Cramant. John pointed out that the blend is predominantly chardonnay, but the wine showed many pinot noir characters such as strawberry fruit and a weightiness instead of creaminess that I usually find on wines with a high white grape content. It was really satisfying. The Delamotte, a 'sister' marque to Salon, was more 'champagne-like' with tiny bubbles, a yeasty nose and lemon palate with hint of minerality. It was beautiful but suffered in comparison to the bolder Selosse.

When it came to the red wines, the older of the pair attracted more attention despite the Chateau Hosana being the more illustrious on paper. It (the Matawhero) understandably had an orange rim and deep centre, and appealing oyster shell and dried herbs on the nose, rich fruit on the palate. At 21 years old, it wasn't going to improve but charmed on the lunch table. Interestingly, it featured 34% malbec, 30% merlot, 20% cabernet sauvignon and 16% cabernet franc ... and came in at a Bordeaux-like 12.5% alcohol. The 15-year younger wine showed intense spice and cherry notes, and had supple tannins, with just a touch of 'greenstick' austerity and a dry finish. Coming back to it later, it had blossomed into a black-fruited beauty that really should have been allowed to lie in the cellar for several more years.

Finally, the sweetie. We'd been asked to identify the four dry still wines blind and, while we got there on the whites, the reds eluded us. I think this one would have been a shoo-in: it had the luscious yellow-gold tinged with green that a botrytised white Bordeaux always seems to have, that slightly chemical apricot-and-nut nose, and piercing acidity. It, too, could have aged for longer, if it had been in a 750ml bottle. Perhaps fortunately for us, and for John and Penny or we would not have left before sundown, it was the smaller 375ml and slipped down effortlessly.

Weekend wine adventure - complete.