Mr Ed Leigh and his 15-year-old son, Oscar, are heading to one of their family’s favourite places: Emerald Bluffs, a local beauty spot close to their sprawling Wānaka demesne on New Zealand’s South Island. As is so frequently the case on New Zealand’s South Island, Emerald Bluffs is a reminder that, while civilisation is close at hand, we are still in wild, wild country.

A mere 20-minute walk takes the duo back in time to the country’s pre-colonial idyll and a landscape transformed, replete with regenerated native bush. Mounts Alta and Burke loom overhead, while Lake Wānaka itself provides a luminous, Instagram-ready backdrop.

Plus, there are cliffs to jump off, which is perhaps the real reason this secluded spot holds such appeal for father and son. Although, with the water temperature at a frigid 6 or 7°C degrees, “There’s always a wetsuit involved,” says Leigh, 48.

As has been their wont since Oscar was a young child, father and son take turns hurling themselves into the drink. Oscar, in particular, shows an elegant, occasionally bewildering form honed from doing countless sessions at the local freestyle trampoline centre.

For Leigh, this hike and cliff-jumping session is “something we have up our sleeve as a little family day out”. It is also a chance to bond with his teenage son away from the digital distractions that frequently stymie any attempts to strengthen family ties in nature.

“It’s a beautiful way of detaching yourself, especially with a teenager,” he says. “There’s no mobile signal out there, so there’s no point taking a phone. We usually spend the day out there doing our own thing without any distractions, and it opens him up like a clam.”

Oscar’s mastery of the art of cliff jumping is also an important rite of passage and emblematic of the wider arc of the pair’s evolving relationship.

As an in-demand broadcaster and a diehard skateboarder, snowboarder and surfer, travel coupled with dynamic physical expression has always been a key part of Leigh’s DNA.

His work helming the BBC’s Ski Sunday means he is on the road for more than 100 days a year. In the early days, he would bring his young family along for the ride (he also has a daughter, who is two years older than Oscar). By the time he was eight, Oscar was almost as seasoned a traveller as his father, as familiar with the inside of a departure lounge as he was with a classroom.

Given this background, it is perhaps unsurprising that communication through shared physical experience has always been Leigh’s modus operandi when seeking to forge a deeper personal relationship with his son.

“Yes, the physical stuff is where we get together,” he says. “It’s where we bond.”

Trying to find this middle ground is a key pillar of all evolving father-and-son relationships. It can also be a cause of tension, especially as the younger man grows and attempts to forge his own path and personality away from his father’s shadow.

Initially, like many fathers, Leigh instinctively reached for his own interests as a means of engendering a deeper connection with his son, but he admits this is something he has not always got right. He acknowledges that this search for common ground has often been, albeit unwittingly, on his own terms.

“I’ve definitely fulfilled a more one-dimensional set of needs for [Oscar],” he says. “Sian is much better at this than I am. Her method is to listen, not judge. She’ll just make whatever they’re into what she’s into. She’ll listen to his music, no matter how awful it is. She can spend three or four hours at the trampoline centre, just watching him. So I have to give her the credit, whereas I don’t really have that gene. It’s her philosophies, her reading, the effort she puts into it that has shaped our parenting. And yeah, she’s dragged me to that place, too.”

“I’ve realised recently that I kind of want it to work for me, as well as them,” he says. “Oscar is more of a people-pleaser and tends to do what he thinks I expect of him.”

In the early years, particularly when the family were on the road, this meant snowboarding and a particular teacher/pupil dynamic, as ex-professional snowboarder Leigh showed his son the ropes. A key shift occurred when the pair began to explore new pursuits together, such as mountain biking and now cliff jumping.

“When we started mountain biking, we both learnt together and the dynamic changed instantly in how we worked together,” says Leigh. “We became equals and friends, rather than teacher and pupil, or father and son. The power dynamic changed. Cliff jumping is the same. He’s better than me at cliff jumping, way better. So for me, it’s a lovely way of switching things up. As soon as we hit that environment, cliff jumping becomes the way to really talk to him and he’ll open up.”

The result has been a deeper, more equal connection for both father and son and more freedom for Oscar to express himself on his own terms. “We’re starting to make headway and he’s becoming more assertive,” says Leigh.

The result of this cerebral/physical teamwork is, Leigh says, twofold: a refreshingly open relationship between father and son and a deeper understanding of what drives him, both as a parent and a person.

“By the time I was 13 or 14, I was independent-minded, so I clashed with my parents through my teenage years,” he says. “Having this relationship now, I was expecting the worst. If I’d had myself as a teenage son, I would’ve been terrified. Oscar is 15 now. He’s a really communicative, open, honest teenager and we have a really open relationship and have had some fascinating conversations. I know who’s been involved in sketchy activities at the skate park, who’s smoking weed. Put the effort into meeting them on their own terms, as I’ve learnt, and everything comes out. You just have to bite your lip and not judge or say anything.”

Back at Emerald Bluffs, the light is fading and there’s time for one more cliff jump. This time Oscar, hoiks himself into the ether as his father watches on in reflective mood.

“What have I learnt about myself from parenting a teenage boy? That I wish I hadn’t travelled so much when they were young,” he says. “That I wish I’d spent more time with them. That I think I’m right a lot of the time. That I need to be a better listener. But I’m trying to learn these lessons and it’s making a difference. I love mine and Oscar’s relationship.”