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| | | | Survive the Seychelles
There is nothing worse than a noisy hotel. Here we were on Mahe, kept awake all night by the roar of surf throwing itself upon the shore of the Indian Ocean, 20 yards beyond our bedroom window.
Do I hear you say that there are worse problems in life? Maybe so, but one must find something to moan about in paradise.
My father, a man of extravagant enthusiasms, once had himself cast away upon an outlying atoll of the Seychelles' 115 islands, to prove that he could survive with only a gun, a fishing line and a machete.
He won his bet narrowly, having neglected to do any homework about edible vegetation. He came home on a stretcher after two months with some nice cowrie shells and a shocking case of scurvy, looking as if he had done time as a prisoner of a particularly brutal Japanese investment bank.
From his hospital bed, he announced he would be delighted to return to the atoll permanently, if he might be allowed to take a case of gin and some cigarettes.
The Seychelles has that effect even on people less dotty than father. I was thinking of his 1960 experience as we were shown to our villa at the southern end of Mahe.
From the sea, the whole place tucks discreetly into the landscape as if it had been there for a century rather than last year. Only the ochre sunset interrupted the view of the ocean.
Beyond the little terrace of our villa, the size of a young bungalow, was a private open-air Jacuzzi, pavilion for lounging in the shade, and swimming pool that would hold the Deputy Prime Minister and both his Jaguars.
My wife took one look and said: 'You are going to have serious trouble getting me home from this place.'
We sat drinking under our private palm tree amid the rampaging tropical vegetation, and wondered whether a second mortgage would suffice to pay the bill if we always holidayed like this.
The presidential villa, which is even grander than ours, costs between £1,500 and £2,000 a day according to season. There seems no shortage of eager occupants.
Travel guide: Seychelles
Pure unspoilt beautiful islands
We love the Seychelles. My wife and I and my twin sons visited five different islands in the last two years- Mahe, Praslin, La Digue, Silhouette and Desroches.
The locals are the most friendly people you could ever wish to meet. The islands we visited all had beautiful beaches. The weather was sunny and hot even when it rained.
There was no loud music just local entertainment at night. The days were spent soaking up the sun, swimming in the sea or pools, bird watching and the odd sightseeing trip or nature trek.
The islands are a must for bird watchers. Pure unspoilt beautiful islands.
The two drawbacks are the price it costs to get there and it is rather pricey once you are there.
For my family it was paradise.
Travel guide: Seychelles
On the sea shore
Before I travelled to the Seychelles everyone I told about it was impressed. Those who had been, and they were a lucky few, said it was probably the best place they had ever visited. Those who hadn't been just looked very jealous.
The Seychelles are often described as paradise, and from what I saw this is not far from the truth. But like all pleasures there is a price - it's a long way to the Indian Ocean, a 10-hour-20-minute flight.
I took an overnight flight with Air Seychelles: not too many people crowded together, reasonable food, and very attentive and friendly cabin crew.
In fact it was when I was speaking to one of the air hostesses that I learned that the resorts we were heading for - the Banyan Tree on Mahe Island, the Lemuria Resort on Praslin Island and the Denis Island Resort - were three of the most exclusive there.
They all cost more than £300 a night, and in some cases considerably more. These are not places for the financially faint-hearted.
Or, indeed, for people nervous about flying in small planes - the main form of transport round the islands. Our first such flight came immediately after landing. Sitting in the air-conditioned departure lounge - the heat and humidity outside had hit us full-on - we looked out over the palm trees under a vivid blue sky with wispy white clouds.
The local planes are small turbo props carrying about 10 passengers - fine for me, but my husband, much bigger than me, was a bit scrunched up. The flights are not long - 15 minutes to our first destination, the Lemuria Resort, and half an hour to Denis Island, our longest trip - and the views of the sea, the coral reefs and perfect desert islands are spectacular.
Praslin is the second largest island in the Seychelles, but we really only got to see the resort, partly because of limited time but also because there is so much to do there.
You're grateful for the air conditioning at night when you want to sleep but even during the day the heat's not insufferable. You feel the air encircling you and relaxing your body, although beware of the sun, it can burn quite quickly.
If part of your idea of paradise is golf, then the Lemuria Resort is the place for you. It has the only 18-hole golf course in the Seychelles, which is set between the rocky, granite centre and the white sandy beaches of the coast. I don't play golf, but I was told it was quite a difficult course.
Travel guide: Seychelles
Garden of Eden
From the Mail on Sunday
Some years ago, around the time that God was creating the world, the giant continent of Gondwanaland shattered.
The land masses of Africa, India and Australia drifted apart and, as the planet as we know it took shape, a group of granite fragments came to rest in the Indian Ocean.
What was left after this tectonic pandemonium was an archipelago of 115 islands, some of granite, most of coral, spread over a million square miles of water between Africa, India and Madagascar.
If the creation of the Seychelles 65 million years ago sounds phenomenal, the islands remain pretty spectacular today.
About 10 hours' flying time from Britain, they are light years away from hectic modern living.
So, haggard and irritable after six months working on a new book, I treated myself and the wife to a week's relaxation.
We started our holiday on the main island of Mahe at Fisherman's Cove, which lies at the far end of the huge sweep of Beau Vallon beach.
This is the sort of resort you read about in posh magazines - the palm trees really do sway in the gentle breeze, the sea really is the deepest blue imaginable and it really does lap gently on to beaches of purest white sand.
Fisherman's Cove is so posh that, at first light, a team of hotel cleaners descend on the beach to sweep any trace of seaweed or shingle back into the sea.
They pick up flower petals blown off the plants and scatter them around your patio to make the 20-yard walk from your room to the beach that more special. The food is local, fresh and plentiful.
Travel guide: Seychelles
A truly idyllic trip
The Seychelles are truly paradise. Not cheap but not expensive. Hotels are £50 per night, a 12-night package, including breakfast, is around £1300.
You will probably pay more for a trip to the US. Hotels are of high standard.
Eat out in restaurants, don't drink in hotels as they are expensive.
All in all for a truly idyllic trip you can't beat the Seychelles.
Travel guide: Seychelles
Pilot beware! Tortoise blocking the runway
From the Mail on Sunday
It was always the same whenever Bernard Jachnik cut the island's grass airstrip. Give it maybe two or three hours and everyone was ready for what would happen next. From both sides of the dense palm forest jungle the giant tortoises would begin to emerge. They were the size of small ponies with huge shells shaped like German soldiers' helmets. So big that when they moved across the sand they left tracks like tanks in the desert.
What they liked was the smell of the new-mown grass. Wherever they were in the coconut woods their heads would sniff the breeze and, as if by an unseen signal, the march on the airfield would begin. Everyone on Des Roches knew tortoises loved new-cut grass.
It was then that Bernard had to get his tractor out, call up a few men and try to move the wandering tortoises on. This was not as easy as it sounded. They can weigh up to 50 stone and live for 200 years. It takes several men to pick one up and move it, and even if your body is strong from cutting coconuts all day for the island's copra output you'd better take care or you might rupture something.
All of this, of course, made a marvellous cabaret for guests of the Des Roches Island lodge as they cycled back from sun-dappled jungle paths; returned from deep-sea fishing trips with their boat loaded to the gunwales with glistening yellowfin tuna, silvery swordfish and blue marlin; or wandered in from snorkelling on the reef's gin-clear waters.
There was a time in the Fifties when the British Government almost totally destroyed this nature paradise with its five miles of virgin beaches, its forests of majestic Royal palms and its waters teeming with fat, gleaming fish. After the Suez crisis the Indian Ocean began to assume increasing strategic importance and an atoll near Des Roches was identified by the US military as the ideal place to build a huge airfield for their long-range bombers. Conservationists quickly mobilised public opinion and Diego Garcia, a rocky outcrop 1,000 miles to the south was developed instead.
Just three little light propeller-driven planes make it to Des Roches each week and a white-hulled six-mast schooner carrying provisions calls once a month. It anchors in the deepwater bay and its cargo is unloaded into flotillas of small boats, a scene much as it would have been 100 years ago if the boats didn't have Johnson Seahorse outboard motors. Stand on the shore and you can't see another island. Walk into the sea and the fish are so thick around your ankles it's difficult to see the sand.
Snorkelling one day in less than 10ft of water off a beach so breathtaking it makes you just stand and gaze in wonder, I happened to glance around to see a small barracuda (when I say small I mean five feet from razor-sharp teeth to tail fin) shadowing me from behind, just a length or two away. It gave all the impression of a fish that had never seen a human before and out of curiosity was just checking me out.
A little further out, a wall of coral plummets thousands of feet into the blue-black depths of the Indian Ocean. It was to here that a party of six Russians from the cold blasts of Riga would sail every day and return at dawn weighed down with the fattest, most glistening fish - all blues, yellows and reds, with names you'd never heard of, like Red Captain and Spanish Dancer.
When they got a little tired of this sea harvest, they thought it would be fun to fish for shark at night, using lights to attract the tigers of the sea to the boat and couldn't understand why the boatman firmly said no, that it was too dangerous.
Travel guide: Seychelles
Anyone for Denis?
From the Mail on Sunday
He was a very smart dog. His name should have been Pierre or Jacques or something Frenchified like that but somehow it was the island name of Fripon that stuck. Nobody knew what it meant. Fripon was the colour of dark chocolate, like a Bounty bar and he had no right to be here.
He was a thoroughbred English-born labrador and should have had a life of rushing into freezing Berkshire lakes to retrieve ducks shot by his master and nights spent yawning and dozing a log fire. It didn't work out like that. He was just a pup when a millionaire Parisian industrialist on a business trip to England saw him, fell in love, bought him and took him home.
Pretty soon after that he was on the move again, this time to Denis island in the Seychelles, a speck of sand and coral in the middle of the Indian Ocean where the average temperature is 90 F, the highest point is just 16ft above the sea and the only other thing on land that moved and was as big as him, apart from man, were the giant tortoises.
What Fripon liked best was to get up early, around dawn, while the world was still, and find somebody to walk with along the talcum-soft beaches and then he could really show off. He had this trick. With the lightness of foot of a cat on a roof he would pick his way delicately and silently through the shallow water until he saw a small fish and then he would suddenly move like a shark and snatch the fish from the sea in his powerful jaws. Fripon would then, very gently, lay the panting fish on the sand for your inspection. When he was completely satisfied you were fully impressed with his liance he would gently pick the still breathing fish up once more and drop it carefully back into the ocean out grazing a gill . . . it was a wonderful thing to see.
Pierre Burkhardt had bought Denis, a 40-minute flight from Mahe - the Seychelles' biggest island - in the Seventies, for less than the cost of a Jaguar car. He wanted an idyllic retreat to escape from the world and found it just before the Shah of Iran who, knowing he was dying of cancer, was seeking a peaceful small island on which to prepare to meet his maker.
Pierre wasn't really interested in the hotel business. Oh, yes, he put a few chalets up to bring in a little money to help with expenses, but he only wanted people who would come because they truly loved this tropical island - just a mile long and half a mile wide - and he didn't want too many of them.
So the casual visitor who might want swimming pools and TV and gourmet food was discouraged and directed to star-Barbados and the Sandy Lane hotel. There was no air-conditioning in the bedrooms and only the most basic furniture. Maybe a couple of chairs and a brilliant-dressing table.
Dinner was quite likely to be Spam from a tin and jelly from a packet. But at night he would play you his old Django Reinhardt records and you would listen to the music of the surf on the reef under a canopy of stars that shone like pricks of light through black velvet, knowing that in the morning Fripon would be doing his tricks and if there was anywhere in the world that was a better place to be at that very moment you certainly didn't know about it.
With delicious self-mockery he christened the island's jungle paths after famous Paris streets and the only path on which the natives' houses, shacks really, stood opposite each other became, of course, the Champs Elysees. At the end of this boulevard stood not an Arc de Triomphe, but the lighthouse. To the irritation of the business community in the rest of the Seychelles, he even put the island on its own Denis time - so he would have an hour more light than everyone else, he said, but really it was just to be idiosyncratic.
I loved Denis. Its serene palm forests, and seas full of fat, brilliantly coloured gleaming fish brought in by the island's fishermen at night, their boats laden to the gunwales like something from the Gospels. Back home, through those dull days we all have, I used these images like an emotional bank, to be drawn on when my senses were stretched and bankrupt, not knowing if I would ever return, but profoundly affected for ever by my visit.
Travel guide: Seychelles
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| | | | Scallops, prawns and fish
The main hotel is a white clapboard building with wooden balconies, designed to look like an inviting old plantation house.
It is years since I ate Thai cuisine. After a week of spicy lobster and suchlike in the hotel's Saffron restaurant, I would have converted to Buddhism to get more of it.
I still have dreams about Pla Yang - grilled fillet of fish in banana leaf with chilli and tamarind sauce, and Nuea Ohad Num Man Hoi - sauteed tenderloin with oyster sauce. There is a pretty good French restaurant, too, with lots of scallops, prawns and fish.
We rented a small car to drive around the island, which cost £50 a day.
An afternoon's snorkelling in the marine park off St Anne's Island cost us £50, which included bread rolls to feed shoals of exotic fish crowding the boat.
Then we discovered that the snorkelling off the hotel beach is terrific, though I fear that I spoilt some people's view by floating over the reef in trousers, to avoid giving my legs an un-British tan.
The Seychellois people have wonderfully interesting, often beautiful faces, reflecting their exotic pedigree - they belonged to the French empire before the British very decently liberated them and included them in ours.
They are so laid-back as to be almost horizontal. This makes them charming company, but impedes their effectiveness as entrepreneurs. Much of the serious work on the islands is done by expatriates - in our hotel predominantly Thais and Balinese.
On the switchback roads that twist and climb from sea level to 3,000ft among the riot of tropical vegetation on Mahe, even Michael Schumacher would be pushed to speed above 40mph, or want to.
The views are awesome, the midday heat would fry an egg on your palm. Seriously, my only quibble about the Seychelles in February is that they can get very hot. Even the fish seem to puff and pant.
Around noon every day, a tropical storm dumps an inch or two of rain, which is great for the foliage but can make it pretty humid.
Your very own Jeeves
The accommodation is spectacular. After being greeted by friendly staff with the customary - and very welcome - cold towel, we were driven in a golf buggy to our beachside villa.
This was truly amazing. Fully air-conditioned luxury inside and cable television for people who get bored with the beauty of the surroundings. But it's even better outside.
There is one's own pool by a sunken dining area where you could entertain at least six people, and another seating area where you can laze and read. A short walk across the grass and beyond a few palms is the white beach.
One of the defining features of the Lemuria Resort is the concept of the Villa Master, whose job it is to look after you.
Whether it is serving breakfast, getting your tickets reconfirmed, making reservations for a meal at one of three restaurants at the hotel, he's your man.
He will also pack and unpack and arrange a massage for you at your villa if you want. Afternoon tea and early evening drinks also appear miraculously. It is like having your very own Jeeves.
For some this might seem a little intrusive, particularly if you are there just to chill out. It is true that it can add a little formality, but it would be great if you were going with friends. You could entertain each other in your own villas.
One word of warning: alcoholic drinks are expensive. The local beers SeyBrew and Eku are very good but cost between £2.50 to £3.50 for a small bottle. Mineral water is about £5 a litre.
These prices are not exceptional for such quality hotels but beware of imported wines and spirits - the Lemuria charged us £45 for two single Remy Martin cognacs!
On the whole though, other prices for both food and drink were what you would normally expect to pay in a top-class international hotel.
Free from tourist traps
As Gordon of Khartoum said of the islands: 'Thus far, I think any requirement is fulfilled for deciding that the site of [the Garden of] Eden is near the Seychelles.'
Of course, a real garden not only needs sun, it needs water.
We visited in the 'wet season' from December to February - and when it rains, boy, does it rain.
Although the rain tends to fall in short downpours between wonderful sunny periods, we were unlucky enough to have a couple of days of cloudy weather.
But beware, even on an overcast day, the sun is extremely powerful.
As my ever helpful wife pointed out, it can scorch the naive, unwary or stupid - me, for instance.
And so, with a lobster-like chest and cries of 'I told you so' ringing in my ears, we decided to take a break from sun-worshipping to explore.
Mahe is the largest island in the archipelago and, although 90 per cent of the population (80,000) lives there, it is still relatively underdeveloped.
The capital, Victoria, is tiny and the island, free from any real tourist traps like discos or shopping arcades, is quiet, informal and friendly - qualities disappearing from much of its main tourist competition in the Caribbean.
No more than 17 miles long and five miles wide, Mahe is dominated by Morne Seychellois, a mountain range that forms the granite backbone of the island.
Only a couple of miles from the many beaches, the land rears skywards to a 3,000ft peak of lush slopes carpeted with tea, mahogany and fruit trees.
Amazing atoll
Two days' sailing from here, this speck of sand and coral four degrees south of the equator where the average temperature is 90 degrees and the rainfall low, is the most amazing atoll of them all, Aldabra. It is, in fact, just a huge eroded coral sponge 22 miles by nine miles which is home to 150,000 wild giant tortoises and probably just as many turtles. At high tide the lagoon is 10ft deep and twice a day it becomes home to a huge influx of marine life - manta rays, hammerhead sharks, barracuda, whip-tailed sting rays and turtles.
I met a German marine biologist who had just spent nine weeks on a research boat, The Indian Ocean Explorer, and she explained how divers from the vessel gathered below the water's surface just as the tide began to fill the lagoon. The amazing thing, she said, was that inside the lagoon, fish which were normally deadly enemies would leave each other alone- that a kind of armistice ruled. But once the tide carried them out again the law of the sea jungle reasserted itself.
'They call it the green wall of death,' she told me, 'The feeding frenzy is terrifying and frankly you don't want to be around it.'
All of this is takes place a safe distance from the luxury of the Des Roches Island lodge - with its big Tricia Guild suites decorated with sprauncy tartan fabrics, squishy lemon-yellow cushions and Jacuzzi bathrooms - just a few steps from the ocean. What a joy to come in from the slamming heat to air-conditioned, ice-cold air and fall into big cane chairs while enjoying an aperitif in preparation for a wonderful dinner.
The food here is perhaps the best in the Seychelles - a triumph of Creole cooking, of octopus curry cooked in coconut milk and seasoned with sugar vanilla or nutmeg, of papaya salad marinated in lime and sugar, of lightly grilled tuna steaks, of the most succulent banana fritters and coconut tarts.
The hotel, which takes no more than 50 guests at the most, is set in manicured lawns decorated with 200ft-high Royal palms and gardens that need no help from Charlie Dimmock - red and yellow frangipani trees, bushes thick with the red hibiscus flowers, purple bougainvillea and jacaranda trees. The dining room is built around a boutique-sized swimming pool and an air-conditioned library.
Ponytailed Bernard and his wife Dominique, a French couple who have run hotels from Polynesia to Brittany, are the managers and as deeply in love with their island as any short-stay guests. They work tirelessly and it shows. The service and facilities are terrific. At dinner Dominique table hops to make sure everyone is enjoying the island to the full. I'm not sure how the conversation with the Russians went about being denied night shark fishing but they seemed happy with everything else.
Tony and Cherie Blair took the kids to the Seychelles where they posed on the beach at La Digue for a Danish tourist in a picture Cherie has come to hate. She will never again go into the water in a swimming costume showing that amount of cellulite. It is to be hoped that the Blairs' trip to these islands does not make them deeply unfashionable, or perhaps it is to be hoped that it does, for the islands must be preserved from the jumbo-jet hordes. Price and distance will see to that anyway.
Cherie, I have a tip for you. If you really want to get away from intrusive Press photographers, ringing telephones, red despatch boxes and spin doctors and have a holiday you can enjoy, come here, to this edge of the world. Nobody will ever find you. Not even the tortoises - as long as you keep off the grass.
Best beaches in the world
And now incredibly, here I am again in a tiny eight-seater jaunty little island-hopping Air Seychelles Twin Otter plane 1,000 feet above Denis and peering madly through the window at the waves licking at the reef as they rush through seas of ink black, navy, bottle green, turquoise and jade to the best beaches in the world.
It is six years since I was last here. Pierre has sold out and taken Fripon with him. Denis is now owned by a Seychelles holiday company. They paid £4 million and have invested another £1 million in renovating and refurbishing the widefronted thatched cottages, really more like small houses in a Devon village, which lie almost on the shore itself.
There is air-conditioning, ceiling fans, elegant four-poster beds, fridges, teak floors, small terraces again with ceiling fans and power showers in the bathroom.
Mercifully, there are no televisions, no telephones, no music centres and no fax machines in the room, but there is an iron and an ironing board just in case you want to put a crease in your shorts.
I am apprehensive. Despite all of this, can paradise be half as nice as I remember? At least the landing is. So . . . so far, so good. Landing was always a thrill at Denis.
For a start the grass runway is just a swathe through the palm forest.
The trees are so close they almost touch the wings. A beach and the Indian Ocean mark both the beginning and the end of the air strip and a little gingerbread hut flecked with purple bougainvillea, surrounded by a white picket fence, is what passes for a terminal.
We sip coconut milk and look out on to the shimmering diamond-sparkling sea, where white-breasted fairy terns dive and swoop. There is a slight wind which gently swishes the lofty palms in its easy breeze.
I wander across the hot sand to the beach where the boats come back from fishing and where they weigh the catch and chalk it up on a blackboard.
A Dutchman in a safari hat stands proudly over his haul of yellow-finned tuna, gleaming blue kingfish and silver swordfish before they are taken off to the kitchens where the kingfish will be prepared for his supper.
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| | | | Live in splendid chaos
We went for lunch one day with Michael Adams, a British artist who has made his home here for 30 years. I first met Michael 20 years ago. He and his wife Heather seem as much in love with the place as they were the day they came.
They have a gallery not far from our hotel, where they live in splendid chaos with 16 cats, five dogs, two ponies, two giant tortoises, a rowing boat full of goldfish, and too many ducks, chickens and guinea fowl to count.
The Adamses can never bring themselves to kill anything for the pot. The cats strolled proprietorially across the table as we ate.
Michael's paintings, most depicting the exotic greenery amid which he lives, keep the family and their wonderfully zany zoo in rations and contentment.
'In the rainy season', he says, 'you can actually sit and watch things grow before your eyes.'
Looking at one of the 30ft trees he planted as saplings a couple of years ago, I believed him.
No one could dispute that the Seychelles is an expensive destination. Everything but the bananas must be imported. The local rupee changes hands on the black market for about half its face value.
A Coke in the hotel costs £3, a roll of film £12. The Seychelles has suffered as much as many other holiday destinations from the after-effects of September 11. But for tourists, the consequence is that the islands seem prodigiously peaceful.
The private beach in front of the Banyan Tree's 37 villas is the sort of place you bottle and sell to TV holiday programmes - framed by huge rocks, palm trees and white sand, with the sea changing colour from pale green to deep blue.
The hotel's real theme is self-indulgence on a scale that would impress some Roman emperors. Its spa is a mecca for hedonists and - for all I know - masochists. It offers a range of exotic treatments which I was too frightened to try, but which my wife adored.
She spent several happy mornings being bathed in salt, milk and warm honey (yes, really), manicured and pedicured until I suggested that it would be a tragic waste not to enter her for Crufts.
All that week, absolutely nothing went wrong, and (dismissing the racket of surf on sand) we couldn't think of a thing to complain about.
We got home so rested as to have become almost inert. I wish the Banyan Tree had been there 40 years ago, to deter my father from his adventure on the atoll.
This time, not only did we not get scurvy - I have sent my wife out to buy a Thai cookbook and a wok.
TRAVEL DETAILS:
Cazenove & Loyd arrange stays at the Banyan including flights with British Airways from London Heathrow and road transfers. For more information contact http://www.caz-loyd.com tel: 020 7384 2332.
Sleeping on a tropical beach
The heat is often tempered by wonderful breezes from the sea. But it can turn nasty. On our second morning we were woken by strong winds and lashing rain. We looked out to see palm trees twisting almost double.
We were told this wasn't all that unusual but were assured the rain did not generally last too long. Sure enough, by afternoon calm had been restored. However, one should be prepared for some pretty dramatic rain when it does come.
Our second resort was Denis Island. It's a place for those who like the idea of sleeping on a tropical beach, away from everywhere, but at the same time like a clean air-conditioned bedroom, and good food and service.
You certainly feel away from it all. From the air you see a coral reef with a small island in the centre and - running right across the middle - the grass airstrip along which you'll bounce to a stop.
Again, you are met with a cold towel before walking to the magnificent bar and dining area. This is a traditional structure on the beach, with a huge roof over an area open to the elements. It is cooled by the sea breezes, shaded and with beautiful views.
We knew we were going to enjoy it there - it's much more laid back than Lemuria. Which you prefer is just a matter of taste.
Again we had a separate cottage near the beach. The facilities were not as extensive but the sea was a short walk away and the island's isolation certainly gave one a sense of complete liberation.
If you do not forget the stresses of the office here I am not sure where you would. There are only 25 cottages on the island, sharing it with a small local village that provides the fresh milk and the staff of the hotel.
You can walk right round the island but not in the half hour the locals reckon - we took an exhausting two hours.
Being in the tropics, animal life is a little more exotic than in Britain. On our first night we saw a giant turtle returning to the sea after it had laid its eggs in the sand just along the beach from our villa.
Some serious relaxation
We parked our hire car and began to explore some of the walking trails that wind their way into the jungle.
This is a land of twilight where creepers roam freely, orchids spring from moss-covered trees and the undergrowth rustles and moves with wildlife.
At 6ft and 220lb, I like to think I can look after myself, but I'm simply not a fan of creepy-crawlies, especially when I'm wearing sandals and the forest floor is alive with things that seem intent on grabbing your toes.
After a mile of scrambling up steep paths, accompanied by the screeching of wild, albeit tiny, creatures, I had had enough and decided it was time to leave.
My wife, sympathetic as ever, had trouble controlling her laughter as I tried to hop my way back down the track, attempting to spend as little time as possible with my feet touching the ground.
After the excitement, it was time to get back to some serious relaxation and our next destination, Denis Island.
About 50 miles north of Mahe, Denis is a 30-minute flight but check-in proved to be an interesting experience.
The agent weighed our hold luggage and 'tut-tutted', then weighed our hand baggage and sucked her teeth.
Finally, in the ultimate humiliation, I had to stand on the scales for all the world to see how much excess baggage was attached to my waistline. It was disconcerting to say the least.
Still, at least they took check-in procedures seriously. It didn't take long to find out why.
Gin clear waters
Five days drift by. Five days of snorkeling in the gin-clear waters, goggling through our masks at parrot fish, small sharks but, sadly, no turtles - our favourite.
Five days of recounting every night at dinner with our few fellow guests the small adventures that define each day. The Dutchman who dived as well as fished had seen a turtle and a big one and had even hitched a ride on its shell to our great envy, but it had sped off into the ocean gloom like a torpedo when he tried to grab its fins.
At the table to our left sat an elegant Frenchwoman and her daughter. The mother looked like a young Moreau and the daughter a young Isabelle Adjani. She, too, had been to the island before and recounted how after dark she had once got lost in the palm forest just past the village and been terrified as armies of crabs, their claws making a sound like a million castanets, marched all around her from the beach to the undergrowth for night protection.
I say to her that you would think they would have been frightened of two humans when they never see any, but she replies with disarming logic, why should they? After all, it's their island and they were here first.
Close to our bungalow was Denis's own version of an animal hospital. There, downy feathered young seabirds that couldn't fly and had fallen from their nest were kept in open cages and nursed back to health by evening meals of finely chopped fish fed from a loving human hand.
Their health and the nocturnal movements of Clara, the island's only female giant tortoise who would happily follow you like little puppy for the leftovers from the fruitbowl, suddenly assumed events of some importance in our lives.
How wonderful to be away from television and cars. How wonderful to be lost in a world where the collecting of sea shells is of paramount importance - and they do have the best shells here. Coral pink ones, snow white ones, shells the colour of vanilla ice cream, shells the shape of Spanish fans with delicate edges. My wife loves them. She goes out early in the morning beachcombing around the rock-pools and returns before breakfast laden with booty and lays them all out in a collection on the table on the terrace for the passing parade to admire.
And then comes the heartbreaking day when she has to decide which shells to take home with her and which ones will be rejected. Several piles are made and then shortlists, and then the best are wrapped very carefully in face towels for the long journey back to the shell jar in our Kensington bathroom. There are shells from many coral islands in our bathroom, but Denis shells are always the most treasured. Oh, and I nearly forgot . . . the food. Spam and jelly didn't figure.
There was octopus and palmheart salad, pan-fried red snapper fillet in rich mango sauce, lobster with garlic butter, kingfish with tamarind sauce, suckling pig and the most delicious coconut tart. The breakfasts were heroic too, with the most delicious fruits, omelettes and sugar pastries. And in the lounge the suave Mauritian barman could mix you a tropical punch or a Manhattan with equal skill. Actually his Manhattans were better than the Savoy's.
I loved Pierre's Denis. I loved wandering into dinner in shorts and eating bread pudding in the tropics and playing Scrabble long into the night. The mixture of holiday camp meets boys' boarding school four degrees south of the equator was surreal.
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| | | | Aggressive mini-dinosaur types
Many of the birds are spectacularly coloured. In particular there is a finch-like bird that is a most vivid red. The most common is a ground dove - and locally called a dove (pronounced so it rhymes with stove).
This is a bit like a pigeon but smaller and more civilised. It has no fear of humans, and will come and peck round your feet as you eat. On Denis Island we also saw a lot of lizards.
There were wonderfully coloured livid-green geckos, that clung precariously to walls and ceilings, and then more aggressive mini-dinosaur types which kept to the undergrowth.
These were particularly apparent on our trek round Denis Island when we took the paths through the woods, the undergrowth alive with fleeing tails.
There were also lots of crabs - land crabs that have their holes dotted all over the place - and wonderful little white crabs that hurtle across the beach as you approach.
Of course there are also fish, and for the more adventurous all the hotels laid on facilities for scuba diving and fishing.
Being out in the ocean, one can live one's fantasy of being Ernest Hemingway and go and fish for marlin. Photographs proved earlier guests had been luckier than the ones who went fishing while we were there.
I would not say that the Seychelles is a foodie's paradise. This to a certain extent is understandable in that most things have to be imported, although I was expecting a lot of locally caught lobster.
Unfortunately this is mostly exported; prices must be better in Europe. Creole is the local cooking style, which may appeal to some, but has its own idiosyncrasies.
The other food lacks any particular style, although pastries and the coffee are good, some of the lasting effects of the French colonists.
Tiny coral outcrop
Ten minutes later a young chap came in from the airfield and asked: 'Anyone going to Denis?'
My wife and I looked at each other and held up our hands.
'Come on then,' he said, and we followed him across the airfield with a bemused Italian couple.
Our guide led us past all the normal looking aircraft to our steed - a tiny eight-seat Islander - and helped us clamber in before cramming our suitcases into the rear.
As the young man checked the engines, it transpired that he was not only a baggage handler, but also an engineer. And more.
Minutes later he climbed into the pilot seat, and with a grin declared: 'Welcome on board. Because of the bad weather this short flight will be a bit bumpy.'
Even though I was in the RAF for 15 years I've never been a huge fan of flying, and as I looked around for a parachute I glanced at the Italian woman who crossed herself and began kissing her crucifix.
Her husband was gripping the back of his seat, a fixed stare welded to his face.
My wife just grinned at the pilot and asked: 'Excellent, can I sit in the front with you?'
Suffice to say, our pilot was correct; the flight was short and bumpy, but as our destination appeared in the distance, it was apparent that it would be worth it.
Elegant retreat
Denis is today a more hedonistic retreat, more elegant (gentlemen are requested to wear trousers for the evening meal - but not shoes) but it has lost none of its natural beauty and has gained great comfort and style.
The handful of luxury cottages restricts guests to a maximum of 25, ensuring privacy and space but most nights there are fewer than ten others there so you feel you have your own desert island to yourself. I love it that you can't see another island on the horizon and that the sea no more than a mile from the shore drops thousands of feet into black depths where no man has ever been. I'd rather come here than anywhere, even Richard Branson's Necker which will cost you $15,000 (around £9,930) a night and has been marketed as the ultimate retreat.
It was amusing to sleep in the bed Princess Diana slept in when she visited with Wills and Harry, but the great conspiracy about Necker is that no one talks about the plague of mosquitoes that will attack you in the bedroom and at dinner. My wife suffered 70 bites in one night and I have heard of one couple who rented the island for a week and had to leave after a few days because they were so badly bitten. If mosquitoes aren't exactly banned from Denis they have been given a severe warning not to upset guests.
Anyway, they wouldn't dare intrude with an efficient manager like the Seychelles-born Daphne about. After a flying visit she decided it was the place where she most wanted to be, so she returned with her one-year-old son and lives in the village just across the airstrip.
If the mosquitoes don't bite, Denis, as I may have indicated, does get under your skin. The island's nurse, rooms manager, garden designer and boutique manager (and much else for all I know) is the gentle Danielle. For 37 years she lived in Kent, and worked as a nurse in South London. When her marriage broke up, she sold her big house in Orpington and moved into one room on Denis. Apart from her family, the London theatre and Prima magazine she doesn't miss a thing.
She's a sweetheart. When my training shoe came apart at the seams after tripping on a tree root while running through the palm forest, she suddenly appeared with a glue gun and stuck it together again. What, I wanted to know, was she doing with a glue gun? She told me her hobby was practical woodwork and she loved putting up shelves. If I wasn't already married, Danny, I'd snap you up. Daphne and Danny wave their goodbyes at the airport like old friends. We all wave furiously back.
Within a few seconds we are airborne and Denis begins to retreat until it is a green and sandy speck in the vast blackness of the Indian Ocean, ringed by white puffs of surf. I look and look and look until cloud and distance and whirling propellers completely obscure the island from view. Anyone for Denis? Yes, please.
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| | | | The perfection of paradise
Our final resort was back at Mahe, the Banyan Tree, a magnificent hotel with some of the most beautiful buildings I have ever seen.
There are 37 beach and hillside villas, all with their own pools, Jacuzzis and luxuriously appointed rooms, spectacular views of the sea and totally private gardens.
All the buildings have been designed to reflect traditional Seychelles architecture, comprising beautiful white painted wood, with high vaulted ceilings, and access for soothing cooling breezes. They were built for pleasure but are in tune with their natural environment - luxury and taste combined.
The Banyan Tree is part of a chain of resorts owned by a Thai, and there is a strong Thai influence especially with the hotel's strong emphasis on sensuality.
Dominating the hillside overlooking the central hotel buildings is the Banyan Tree Spa. Here, or at your villa, you can have various spa treatments and a range of different massages.
This emphasis on sensuality pervaded all the hotels we stayed in. At Lemuria, we both had wonderful massages outside, listening to the waves, as we also did at the Banyan Tree.
In each hotel there were outside showers - hidden by the walls of the villa gardens - where one could cool off and look up into the blue sky through the palm fronds above.
All too soon one has to pack up and leave. The Seychelles is certainly a magical and special place. We had a wonderful time staying in the best hotels the place has to offer. They were magnificent and added to the perfection of paradise.
But there are two things that one should bear in mind if planning a trip to the Seychelles. It is a long way, so make your stay long enough to compensate for that. It is also, if you wish to stay in the best hotels, expensive.
If you can afford the bill though, there can be few better ways to spend your money.
For the committed escapist
Denis Island is a tiny coral outcrop that gleams in the vastness of the Indian Ocean. A grass runway has been hewn through the vegetation, rich because of the guano deposited over the years.
The green of the flora comes to a halt a few yards from the sea to be replaced by stark white sand. If ever there was a Robinson Crusoe island, this would be it.
There are only 25 elegant cottages on the island, served by a restaurant and bar. The cottages are built in colonial style with thatched roofs, verandas and rooms dominated by four-poster beds.
You even have your own private stretch of beach.
Apart from relaxing, the main activity was eating. A sumptuous breakfast was followed by three-course lunch, afternoon tea, then a nightly banquet.
As my 'excess baggage' increased, I feared meeting the check-in lady with the scales at the end of our stay.
With no day trippers, telephones or televisions, Denis Island is truly a place for the committed escapist.
In fact, the Seychelles are not the place to go if you want to party, pull or have an active holiday.
However, if you want to relax, read and walk deserted beaches hand-in-hand with the one you love it's a perfect location.
One evening my wife and I strolled along the shore as the sun set in an explosion of colour and the sea lapped at our toes.
As we passed the only other person on the beach, a chap catching the last rays of sun in his Day-Glo thong, my wife turned to me and uttered the immortal words: 'If you ever wear anything like that I'll divorce you.'
Love was truly in the air.
TRAVEL DETAILS:
Former RAF flight lieutenant John Nichol was held captive by Iraq for 49 days after his Tornado was shot down during the Gulf War. His latest book, The Last Escape, will be published in October by Penguin.
Sunset Faraway Holidays (http://www.sunsetfaraway.com tel: 020 7501 1998) specialises in the Seychelles.
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| | Destination Guide : Seychelles |
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| | | Sapphire seas |  | Why go on holiday to the Seychelles?
The Seychelles are the embodiment of that idyll you see in your mind on dreary days, sitting at work and dreaming of a tropical island getaway.
The only surprise is that the real thing is more even more stunning than you'd imagined. Dazzling beaches, exotic birds, flowers and marine life, giant turtles, spectacular sunsets.
The pace of life is slow; it's no nightlife hotspot, but the Seychelles make a perfect place to relax.
How much does it cost?
Paradise doesn't come cheap. Flights are most likely to start in the £400-£500 range.
Hotels are regulated by the Ministry of Tourism and are of a consistently high standard, but also charge consistently high prices. Don't expect to find a mid-range room for less than £70-£100 a night.
A better deal is to take an all-inclusive package trip from the UK. Seven nights in a three-star resort hotel costs £1,100-£1,500.
When should I go?
With temperatures a constant 75-88F (24-32C), the Seychelles are a year-round destination. Plan your trip around what you plan to do.
Windsurfing and sailing are best around May and October, while the waters are good for diving from March-May and September-November. It's busiest during the Christmas and summer holidays, and hotels hike up their prices.
The Festival Kreol is held every year at the end of October, a week-long explosion of Creole cuisine, fashion, art, music and dance. Artists from around the world descend on the island. It's a good time to party and pick up Creole handicrafts.
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| | | Head to the beach |  | What should I do when I'm there?
Most visitors head straight to the beach, and there are certainly lots to choose from.
The Beau Vallon on Mahe is perhaps the most popular - the sand is good, clean and relatively free of rocks, there are swimming platforms, watersports facilities and snack bars.
The best beach on Praslin is Anse Lazio in the far north, with its glorious white, soft sand and lively waves. La Digue's beaches remain largely unspoilt, with magical deserted stretches at Anse Source d'Argent, Anse Gaulettes and Grand Anse.
The most popular attractions?
Victoria, on the island of Mahe, is one of the smallest cities in the world. Visit the giant tortoises in the lush Botanical Gardens and get a glimpse of island history at the Natural History Museum.
Round Island was once a leper colony; the chapel is now an excellent restaurant and is one of the best places to order Creole food.
Lovingly preserved with native plants and animals, complete with stories of ghosts and buried treasure, the island of Moyenne is the most popular for day trips.
Where can I do a jungle walk?
Cousin Island has been a nature reserve since 1968 and is home to several endangered species. It's an amazing experience to walk through thick forest with exotic birds flittering and twittering all around.
You can only visit the island on a tour. Vallee de Mai, the prehistoric forest on Praslin, has a huge concentration of Coco de Mer palms and is listed as a world heritage site.
What about the remoter islands?
Visitors to Silhouette Island describe it as mystical and eerie, though that shouldn't prevent you from enjoying the great snorkelling. Anse Victoria on Fregate Island is considered one of the best beaches in the Seychelles.
Bird Island is a true coral island: flat, covered in palms and ringed by a white coral beach. Turtles breed here and it's heaven for birdwatchers.
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| | | Fruit bat, anyone? | | Where's good for nightlife?
Most evening entertainment is found in the resort hotels, though the locals hang out in a few bar-discos on Mahe and Praslin. These islands also have a couple of casinos, and there's one cinema in Victoria, on Mahe.
Traditional sega dance displays are held at most of the large hotels at least once a week.
There are roving camtole bands who play the local music - a blend of the Indian, European, Chinese, African and Arabic cultures that have influenced the Seychellois.
What's the food like?
The Seychelles are the best of all the Indian Ocean islands for Creole cuisine. Fish and rice are staples and the variety of seafood is huge. Shark, squid, red snapper and parrotfish are all common.
Two delicacies served in some restaurants are fruit bat and turtle - although the latter is not encouraged as the green turtle is endangered.
What should I buy?
Stamps are something of a tradition here and you'll be able to find a variety of colourful new issues that seem to commemorate everything.
The famous Coco de Mer nut, regarded as an erotic symbol, is something many tourists want to take home as a souvenir. The best place to buy one is at the Coco de Mer Souvenir Boutique in Praslin, sold unpolished and with the requisite export permit.
What is there for children to do?
With giant tortoises to pet and colourful birds to chase, endless sunny days spent wandering along jungle paths or paddling in the ocean, the Seychelles is as enchanting for children as it is for their parents.
Choose a large resort hotel with a watersports and activities programme, and the babysitting will be taken care of as well.
Tourist office
Seychelles Tourism Office, Aviareps House, Gatwick Road, Crawley, W. Sussex, RH10 9RB. Tel: 01293 596648.
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| | Fact File : Seychelles |
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| | | Seychelles | | Did you know?
The world's largest tortoise lives on Bird Island - Esmeralda weighs in at 320kg.
Language
French Creole; French and English
Visas
It's not necessary to have a visa, just a return or onward ticket and enough money to cover your stay.
Getting there
More airlines are flying direct to the Seychelles from the UK, though some still stop over in continental Europe, in Mauritius, or Singapore. The international airport is on Mahe, the largest island.
Flying time from London
13 hours.
Getting around
Air Seychelles has regular flights between the larger islands; small turbo-prop aircraft serve the outer islands and atolls. Ferries run between Mahe, Praslin and La Digue. An extensive bus service operates on Mahe and limited buses on Praslin. Mini Mokes can be hired but are neither cheap nor reliable. Rent bikes on Praslin and La Digue, or just walk.
Currency
Seychelles rupee.
Costs
Bottle of beer £1.50; roll of film £5; moderate restaurant meal £15; litre of petrol 80p; four-mile taxi ride £4-£5. All prices may vary.
Weather
Constantly pleasant throughout the year, between 75-88F (24-32C). Though there is a monsoon season, with most rain in December and January, the Seychelles lie outside the cyclone zone and are a fairly safe bet even in the wetter months.
Time difference
Four hours ahead of GMT, three hours in UK summer.
International dialling code from the UK
00 248
Voltage
240V, 50Hz AC
Opening hours
Shops open between 8.30am and 5pm and close for lunch from noon-1pm.
Health - Before you go
The Seychelles are free from tropical diseases and no vaccinations are necessary, though it is advisable to keep tetanus and polio up to date. Take out adequate health insurance to cover healthcare costs.
Health - When you are there
The emergency number is 999. Not many health hazards aside from bad drivers, but take care in the equatorial sun. There are hospitals on Mahe, Praslin and La Digue.
Warnings
The islands are generally very safe but petty theft is common. Don't leave belongings unattended on the beach and deposit valuables in the hotel safe.
Emergency
The emergency number is 999. British Embassy, PO Box 161 Victoria House, Victoria. Tel. 225225.
Customs
It's said that anybody who eats a tropical breadfruit will one day return to the Seychelles. You have been warned...
Pets
Animals would be subject to quarantine on return to the UK, though the Seychelles is currently under consideration for inclusion in the PETS travel scheme. Check with the PETS helpline for the latest news. Tel. 0870 241 1710.
Tipping
It's welcome but not obligatory; a 10% service charge is usually added to the bill in hotels and restaurants.
Tourist office
Seychelles Tourism Office, Aviareps House, Gatwick Road, Crawley, W. Sussex, RH10 9RB. Tel: 01293 596648.
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Why Rent With Us
