Let’s start with the sea.
It is sheer misfortune that we have arrived on this Indian Ocean archipelago at the same time as the worst tropical storm for a generation. The Seychelles are renowned for their calm, predictable weather - it is one of the reasons they are such a tou
rist hotspot. This makes it all the more sickening when locals happily inform us, over storm-battered cocktails, that they have never seen anything quite like it.
Fortunately, in a place as beautiful as the Seychelles, we still manage to sneak in every paradise island cliché. Azure blue skies, endless white, sandy beaches, lonesome palm trees waving in a hot, tropical breeze - they are all there.
We start our trip at Lemuria on Praslin, a vast sprawl of a resort that dominates the Seychelles’ second biggest island and home to its only golf course. It is managed by a chap whose former post was at Edinburgh’s Malmaison and is a true homage to luxury. Boasting a superb Guerlain spa and several wonderful restaurants, including one hewn out of the rocks, it attracts celebrities, sun-worshippers and the sailing set in equal measure.
Scattered throughout the lush grounds are a number of palatial-looking villas, all with private pools, beds the size of small South American countries and "villa masters". Our villa master is a lovely Mauritian lad who makes some of the most delicious coffee I have ever tasted, but I can’t quite get used to his hovering.
From the moment we get up in the morning to the second we go out to dine in the evening (and even longer for those who opt for the sumptuous in-villa dining), our villa master is there. He puts music on the CD player at just the right volume, he offers to iron, unpack, repack and launder my clothes and is generally the sort of smiling, helpful and anticipatory member of staff you would like to bump into on a Scotrail train, but not necessarily on the way to the bathroom in the extortionate beach villa you are staying in on the holiday of a lifetime. Apparently Lemuria is a haven for honeymooners, but whether they enjoy being joined by a third party for ten hours of the day is debatable.
Lemuria does, however, have Anse Georgette, a stretch of sand that rejoices in the moniker "second most beautiful beach in the world". It is truly breath- taking. Not too long, not too short, with fluffy, white sand and huge, oval rocks at either end, just the right height for sprawling on. The hotel has kept the isolated beach untouched and it all feels deliciously like being cast away on a remote desert island with only a magnum of Champagne for company.
A remote desert island is, in fact, where we head next. Denis Island, small but perfectly formed, with a lapis lazuli coral reef and a tangled jungle interior, is the antithesis to Lemuria. Laid back and relaxed, nowhere is off limits and much of it looks as though it has lain undiscovered for centuries. The staff pretty much leave you to it. They will remember what your favourite drink is and wave you off at the tiny airstrip when you leave but, other than that, they stay in the background. The villas are little cabin-style hideaways with outside showers, no phones and - with only about 30 guests on the island at a time - a great deal of privacy.
The storm has followed us here, whipping the palm trees into a frenzy and cancelling our plans for diving into the reefs and fishing for marlin. Instead, we sit up in the bar until 3am and nurse a bottle of Jack Daniels, watching the tropical rain sheeting down and listening to the island’s guitarist, who is also the island’s accountant, talk about the time he played the blues with Ronnie Wood in a London nightclub. It’s that sort of place.
I like Denis a lot. A person can create their own holiday here, do exactly as much, or as little, as they want, and still come away feeling they have had one of those warmly special, possibly life-altering experiences. But it is North Island, our final destination, that captures my heart.
It is hard to say what turns my head first. Maybe it is the breath-stopping helicopter ride that swoops down over a fug of palm trees to land a hair’s breadth from the ocean. Or the charm of the South African staff when they ask me to help them concoct a new cocktail, just for fun. Or it could be that, from my villa’s outside bed, I can see turtles lumbering along my own little stretch of Indian Ocean sand.
Everything on North Island feels like part of the same living, breathing organism. This is because North, along with being among the most exclusive (and expensive) resorts in the world, is also one of Africa’s most ambitious conservation projects. Abandoned for years and overrun by rats, the island was bought by Wilderness Safaris two years ago and a vast programme of ecological rehabilitation began, a sort of Noah’s ark concept where turtles, tortoises and birds were reintroduced and plants, flowers and trees nurtured and regrown. The final stage was building several heavenly villas, which host a small number of guests each year.
There is a natural harmony about the place. In the restaurant, some bright spark has turned a tree upside down so its sprawling roots form a beautiful wooden roof. At the spa, all the treatments are completely pure, many using indigenous island products such as coconut oil and banana. The wine cellar sits in a shaded glass room that is reached crossing a small river by stepping-stone.
But North’s natural beauty and its inaccessibility are also its downfall. That tropical storm, which up until now has been a minor irritation, suddenly becomes a major problem. We had been flown into North a day late and, with only one night left of the holiday, sit anxiously to hear whether we will be able to spend it here. I don’t want to leave. It seems too cruel that we have been able to get here and see this unique place, only to be spirited away a few short hours later.
To calm my nerves, I walk along the island’s long, white beach, collecting pieces of coral and tip-toeing quietly past a mother turtle and her babies. I take off my shoes and stand in the ocean, watching it curl and fizz around my toes. When I get back to my travelling companions the news is not good. The storm is closing in. We have to leave. Now.
Slowly, solemnly, we gather up our trinkets and slouch reluctantly towards the helicopter, weeping softly over the unpredictability of the sea.
Seychelles facts How to get there Carrier (01625 547030) offers six nights’ full-board on North Island from £3,963, including direct flights with Air Seychelles and transfers. A six-night stay at Lemuria is priced at £1,824 on a B&B basis, and six nights on Denis Island costs £2,211 full-board. All prices based on two people sharing.
When to go The tropical marine climate is cooler from June to November. The temperature varies from around 26 to about 29 degrees all year around.
Information The Seychelles are an archipelago of 115 islands in the western Indian Ocean, to the north-west of Madagascar. The biggest island is Mahe (144 sq km), which is granite. The other islands, including the biggest atoll in the world (Aldabra), are coral. After Mahe, the most visited islands are Praslin, La Digue, Bird, Fregate, Silhouette, and Desroches.
The total population of the islands is just under 73,000 and official languages are French and English. Currency is the Seychelles rupee.
The full article contains 1345 words and appears in The Scotsman newspaper.
