Snorkelling is a favourite activity on Turtle Island. Photo / Supplied
Snorkelling is a favourite activity on Turtle Island. Photo / Supplied
It took eight years but an emotional Steve Deane finally gets a luxury honeymoon in Fiji.
James is clearly going to cry. He's already close to tears just thinking about it. The end; back to reality. The writing is on the water. The seaplane that will carry the American twentysomething and his new bride on the first leg of their long trip back to Oklahoma, or Idaho - somewhere like that - has arrived. Every now and then James takes a swig out of his bottle of Glenfiddich and looks out over Turtle Island's stunning lagoon. Man abroad. With his rather buxom broad.
Their seven-day stay at the all-inclusive, five-star resort island, which included a windswept beach wedding, has been simply "unreal", he says. No surprise. Reality suspension is the whole idea of the place.
After a week in paradise being waited on hand and foot, 90 per cent of people cry when it is time to leave, says the island's marketing manager Matt Buchan.
James is definitely a 90 per center. He's gone the whole hog and stumped up the extra cash for an elaborate departure ceremony that includes a painted turtle being released into the sea.
Hell, we've only been on the island an hour and I'm already close to tears, if only at relief at having engineered a travel junket suitable for a honeymoon that has been eight years - and three children - in the waiting.
My wife, the long-suffering, remarkably fertile Kate, started her new job in Auckland two days after our Marlborough wedding. A three-star motel in Howick hosted us (complete with 1-year-old daughter) through the traditional honeymoon period. Now the wait is over. Paradise found; if only for a couple of days. Our four-night stay on the island has collapsed into two because of our Fiji Airways flights between Auckland and Nadi not connecting well with the seaplane trip to Turtle Island.
Strangely, given they operate the seaplane charters, our short stay raises the collective eyebrows of our hosts. It takes at least two days to unwind and leave real life behind you, we are told, and seven nights to fully appreciate the experience.
Perhaps they are right. Our hosts are anxious for us to see and experience as much of the island as possible during our abbreviated stay. It doesn't leave all that much time for Darryl Kerrigan-style serenity soaking, but that tends to be the price you pay on travel-writing trips. Rates at Turtle Island are negotiable depending on season and availability, but you're unlikely to get much change out of US$2499 ($3815) a night, so a few nights' gratis in exchange for a whirlwind tour or two is still a bargain.
For their serious chunk of change, paying guests get a five-star experience - with a qualification. "It is five-star, but it is Pacific five-star," says Buchan.
In other words, don't expect the sophistication of St Tropez. Potential guests are vetted, but none are turned away, says Buchan. What he actually means is that guests are fully briefed on the true nature of the experience; told that to get the most out of it they'll need to look past the fact that things on a remote, tiny island that caters for a maximum of 28 guests aren't always perfect. In exchange for overlooking a few rough edges, guests receive a truly unique experience. And it's not like the Moet isn't on tap for those that want to guzzle it while lounging in the crystal clear, warm waters of the island's private beaches. From fishing, windsurfing and paddleboarding to truly exceptional snorkelling, whether off the main beach or part of a daily guided offshore excursion, the watersports activities are well and truly covered.
Seclusion is there for those who want it, but harder to find than you'd think for an island that markets itself heavily around the 14 beaches and bays that can be booked for private picnics each day.
The writer with wife Kate on Turtle Island. Photo / Supplied
The movie Blue Lagoon, which featured the stunning Brooke Shields growing up as a castaway, not wearing all that much and eventually figuring out how to kill time with the poor bugger who was stranded on the island with her, was filmed on the island in 1980.
Guests can recreate such blissful isolation but it is fleeting.
With more than 80 staff on the island - including dedicated bure mamas to promptly attend to guests' every need - human interaction is never far away.
A negative online review from a frustrated couple who became annoyed at the constant interruptions was removed as it simply wasn't fair to the island, Buchan tells me. Fair enough. However, it must be said that privacy was an issue at our particular bure which, unless the curtains were carefully pulled, did not yield a single spot where you could be sure of being unobserved. Social seclusion was also tough to find. The property of millionaire American Richard Evanson, who bought the island in 1972 and has since steadily transformed it from a mosquito-ridden wilderness into a self-sustained wonder, Turtle Island operates in accordance with its creator's vision.
Guests are considered family, which is a bit of a double-edged sword. Families are great, but they are governed by social contracts. At Turtle, that means pitching up for most meals with fellow guests at the communal dining table. Private dine-out and in-room options are available, but come with the slight social burden of letting fellow guests know you'd really not prefer their company.
We dined out at the end of the pier on our second night, but no sooner had we polished off our truly outstanding sashimi and lamb rack, than we were ushered back to the main table to listen to the staff choir. We'd rather have stayed out on the pier and fed the fish gathering under the flood lights and listened to the incredibly melodic gospel music drift out over the water, but that wasn't an option.
There's a fair bit on the island that isn't all that optional. That most definitely applies to the wonderfully friendly and professional staff, for whom singing in the choir on a Sunday night is all part of the job.
Like guests, staff are family, but there are tiers of existence.
On our first morning on the island we were ushered to the pre-breakfast staff meeting, hosted by Evanson and island manager Alex Weiss. With the entire Fijian staff sitting, legs folded, on a large grass mat at the feet of a couple of benevolent white men (and singing songs for the honoured guests on demand), it's a scene many Kiwis might find awkward.
Certainly it reinforces the impression that Evanson has created his own 200ha fiefdom, complete with dutiful subjects. However, it's unlikely the vast disparity in status registers with a clientele consisting mainly of extremely wealthy Americans, for whom staggering inequality is merely a part of daily existence. Those that do notice seemingly aren't bothered by it. Evanson's island provides employment, healthcare, education and status for villagers, a guest points out.
True enough, but ...
Pretty much self-sustaining because of the incredible gardens and orchards, abundance of local seafood and solar power generation, the island is undoubtedly a marvel of creation.
There are, however, limits to the level of escapism it provides.
Our fantastically catered picnic at Devil's Beach loses a bit of its magic when we notice the collection of plastic buckets and bottles littering the high-tide line. The beach faces the Fijian mainland and the prevailing wind blows straight onshore, carrying with it unwelcome reminders that even the most remote, idyllic places on the planet are seldom totally spared humanity's detritus.
It's hard to know what to make of Turtle Island. It's paradise, certainly, but paradise with a twist. Or maybe we just didn't stay long enough. But if a unique style of Pacific Island luxury is your thing, it may well be the place for you.
CHECKLIST
Getting there: Air New Zealand flies daily to Nadi, Fiji. Seaplane transfers go directly to Turtle Island.
