A Week in the Garden of Eden

This one is horrendously late as the trip was taken in September 2011. However, it's extra long to make up :)


In which Ilana is treated to a few days in paradise – North Island in the Seychelles, considered by many to be the most beautiful place on Earth – where she tastes dragonfruit, wriggles toes in white sand, floats in ultra-clear Indian Ocean waters and pats Harry the giant Aldabran tortoise... Through it all she learns that North Island is an excellent collaboration between God and Homo sapiens wildernessii.


After spending almost eight years writing about and helping with presenting North Island to the market, it was almost surreal ‘pinch yourself’ moment when I was offered a trip there. And Air Seychelles notwithstanding (remember El Al in the 70s?), to say nothing of a lowering sky on Mahé (capital of Seychelles) and a very roller coaster boat ride to the island, when the well-known (from photos anyway) silhouette of North rose out of the sea in front of me, I held my breath in that moment of recognition: “THERE you are!” 


You know, it’s tremendously difficult describing paradise in action. Quite frankly, even on a fairly cloudy day and not a few pinches, I thought I’d died and gone to heaven. That is, if heaven is sitting on clouds playing harps, well, I can take it or leave it, but if heaven is North Island, I promised I’d be a good girl for the rest of my life!


After all the glossy brochures we had put together, I was expecting the island to feel the same: glossy and somewhat impersonal. I couldn’t have been more wrong: the villa was just right – large, certainly, luxurious, definitely, but homely too. Although walking to the bathroom at night you need a Sherpa cos it’s so far away, and while the photos indeed bring out the gorgeousness and luxuriosity (I just made that up), this is luxury with soul. Maybe it’s the people – as always Wilderness staff are just so gracious and warm and welcoming (and here the uniform of the management team is flowing white trousers and tops – and no shoes. Nope, they aren’t allowed to wear shoes. So you are greeted – on an island that could be called 6-star nogal – by smiling managers – with no shoes, toes waving in the soft white sand in welcome). 


But I’m still trying to work out what creates this combination of immersion in physical beauty and luxury, yet with spirituality. Maybe it’s the sound of the waves, whether susuration (I didn’t make that up, it means humming or whispering) or roaring that you hear everywhere you go on the island. Maybe it’s my very own beach just off Villa 9 – real white sand mixed and moved around the island by wind and wave – with only one set of footprints (mine) and one dry coconut husk on the pure white expanse, which of course just screams “Tropical island! You’re on a tropical island!”


Okay, so it is monsoon season, which does mean lowering clouds and spurts of rain – the thing about tropical islands, you see, is that you need a lot of moisture for them to get tropical. But such minor inconveniences cannot dampen the sheer wallowing in a place that God clearly spent a lot of time photoshopping – that is, before humans came along and destroyed it and then left – at which point more humans came along to try put it all back together again... but that’s a long story, maybe I’ll tell you a bit more later. 


And listen, the fact that a whole section of the kitchen was kashered just for me didn’t hurt either – David the French chef had all the laws down pat and I had fresh bread, bikkies, homemade veggie chips, fish kebabs, dragonfruit – you ever tasted dragonfruit? It takes like a tropical island would if you could taste one. And all this was just my first meal, at a picnic laid out for us (that would be Sue, who was surveying the staff for Wilderness’ socioeconomic study, and Roberto, Italian, larger than life personality and sales hero) on West Beach (that’s in case you want to watch the sunset, cos fairly obviously you can’t see that on East Beach). There we sat between a pale green picnic blanket and a beach umbrella, with food and drink of all sorts (a skink climbing our legs in an effort to get to our food), palm trees swaying in the wind, the ceaseless tide sucking and surging just beyond the white sands... does it get any better?


Well, yes it does actually. After a snooze, a dip in ‘your’ ocean and an outdoor shower (even this is different – the water pours out of wooden spout like an old fashioned mill wheel’s), off we went for a walk with Elliott Mokhobo, environmental assistant. Elliott’s story is one of those ‘usual’ amazing wilderness stories: hailing from Parys in South Africa, he began as a builder of the lodge on North Island and expressed an interest in environment. Linda, the resident biologist, was only too delighted to teach him and now he is a member of the environmental team, his particular forte being that of monitoring the turtles that come to nest on the beaches – of which more later. 

When Ilana meets... Harry?

Anyway, we walked across over to Petit Anse (Little Beach in Creole), Elliott identifying all the plants on the way, then across to the staff village (nicest one I’ve seen) and the vegetable garden which in true tropical island style is bursting with growth. We were exhausted still from no sleep on that flight from hell so decided to mosey on back (ah yes, the island walk, a relaxed, sleepy plod – essential for your island experience) to our villa – but on the way we had the tremendous privilege of meeting two species who had come home: Harry, one of the giant tortoises reintroduced to this island from the neighbouring one, Silhouette, and some Seychelles White-eyes. As there are only 450 of these little nondescript birds left on Earth, to watch these LBJs flit about through the lush forest (also made up of indigenous plants which had to be brought back and reintroduced), I was aware of how honoured I was to see them, and of the incredible work we’re involved in. If not for the committed people of Wilderness and other conservationists, these birds would have slipped away into that black hole of extinction, leaving the world a poorer place, whether we are aware of it or not. It may be fighting a losing battle, but never let it be said that we give up the fight! 


While we’re discussing biology here, I should point out that there are no snakes in this Eden. (The only ‘snakes’ if you like are the myna birds who shouldn’t be here, having been brought by humans again, but we’re going to sort that out.) Your most likely attackers are the skinks who have become completely habituated – and in fact spoilt. Sit down for a beach picnic and the cheeky critters are climbing up your leg in an effort to share your food – the blighters have sharpish toes (claws?) which take some getting used to, but I thought they were cute. The moorhens are also fairly laid back and everywhere. I expected to have to search hard for the amazing giant fruit bats or flying foxes, but in fact, they are diurnal, so every now and then out of the corner of my eye I would see large, rich brown wings flap past languidly – it’s a large furry mouse with a fox face – what a thrill! They’re not very good at landing though; I imagined them screaming wildly in ultrasound before crashing into the top of a palm tree where they grab on for dear life, waiting for the swaying and dipping to stop. 


Ag shame. That’s what I said to myself all day on Thursday. Ag shame. Poor Ilana, sitting at the infinity pool, waves crashing below, dozing on a comfy deck chair. Ag shame, poor Ilana, floating in real aquamarine seas. Poor Ilana, strolling through the takamaka forest. Poor Ilana eating grilled snapper and couscous salad for lunch, under the giant Indian almond tree, bare feet in the cool sand. Poor Ilana, sitting at night just before turning in, with feet in her own private plunge pool, watching the waning moon as it shoots the sea through with silver light and outlines the palm trees so that they stand out black as jet against the silvery sky. Poor Ilana. (I’d then end off with an evil laugh.)


But it was a tough day. Such decisions to be made: do I swim in the sea or in the pool? Have coffee or a fruit smoothie? Walk in the forest or on the beach? Etc etc. So you’ll be relieved to know that I swam in the sea and in the infinity pool (that’s the main pool as opposed to my plunge pool - hope you can keep up here?), sat in several deck beds to make sure I got all the views out to sea, walked to the villa in the twinkling, dappled, crunching takamaka forest (where the noises and rustles you hear in the undergrowth are moorhens and skinks and not lions, tigers or bears), and walked back to the main area along the beach with no footprints but mine spoiling the smooth sands. 


But it wasn’t all fun, I also did some ‘work’ (no, really). I walked with Linda the biologist of the island (she’s just like a mad scientist only for animals and plants) through the forest where we met Patrick, the giant tortoise, who is suffering from a dislocated shoulder – they think from a fight with another male (tortoises’ love lives are surprisingly fraught with drama, tension and danger). Linda also introduced me to a female coco de mer, a golden apple tree and a vaccinated takamaka tree (yes, that’s right, long story, don’t ask). I also saw where the nurseries are: when Wilderness came to the island, it was covered in alien vegetation and very few indigenous plants. We brought 10 000 seedlings, and continue to bring more – they start off in the nursery and when they’re in their ‘teens’ they are put outside the greenhouse/nursery to get used to life on the outside before being planted in the forest or wherever they need to be. Now that’s commitment and love! 


Friday was another hectic day in heaven. Okay I’ll stop now, but really, it actually was a bit. I arrived at breakfast (an assortment of fruit not all of them recognisable, fresh muffins and coffee... where was I?) to find the main beach – usually a gentle swell of that incredible aquamarine water nestling into a small, curvaceous bay – had a barge on it, chugging away. You might think I'd get all miff with that sort of thing intruding on the whole ‘alone on an island’ look, but in fact it’s okay: it is in fact the way to keep rats off the island. Say what? Like this: when Wilderness was asked to take over the island and restore it to its natural state, this was a tremendous challenge, because it had been inhabited and then abandoned by people who had brought with them coconuts to grow, cows to milk, and inadvertently as we always do, rats that stow away on boats and then run merrily through the forest wreaking havoc on the local wildlife which hasn’t seen a rat in millions of years/ever and are ground nesters. Rat finds lots of birds on ground to eat, birds not really sure what to do, so get eaten. People brightly bring cats to eat rats but cats are scared of rats this big (seriously, the size of a small terrier) and think that scoffing the rest of the ground-nesting birds would be easier. Meanwhile, alien plants have also been introduced.... and that my friends, is the legacy of the human race. 


So in order to try and restore the balance you have to remove the ‘bad’ guys. First the cows went (those were easy; braais every night), then the cats and then the rats. It took two big poisoning projects to wipe them out, but of course the challenge is now to keep them off. The best way is not to build a jetty and to have the boats stop offshore in the waves, and people then carry stuff off the boat onto the island. But just in case the blighters get into the boxes, the boxes are put in special rat-proof containers and kept there until they’re thoroughly checked. 


However, sometimes the logistics get a bit more logistical. Today they needed to get a five-ton cable thingie onto the island. It therefore had to come on a big barge and then a lot of hard work getting it off somehow – lot of shouting and sweating involved. What’s great though, is that this is all explained to the guests and they not only understand, they come over to watch what’s going on and appreciate the efforts we are putting into protecting the wildlife on this island.


Sipping coffee, I watched all the barge action, took videos of Sue interviewing staff, had breakfast, swotted up for my dive review, then did the practical in the pool, relearning BCD, regulator and all that. Chef David came over to discuss "souperrrrrrrrrrr" and was most distressed that he wasn’t allowed to make my food just before the meal and had to do it all before sunset. Rolling rrrs and eyes, he reluctantly agreed. Lunch was incredible – veggie wraps with homemade hummus of some sort (I've never spent so much time considering food on a Wilderness journey but that’s because it’s usually tinfoil and tuna...). And then off Sue and I went to snorkel just off Silhouette Island, North’s neighbour. I found Silhouette quite dark and broody from a distance, with a cloud almost permanently on its 800m peak, but close to, with the sun behind us, it was frankly stunning. A palette of different greens – trees, bushes, leaves and ferns – all tumble over themselves riotously up and down the steep slopes almost to the water. The sea follows through with the colour coordination, a darker green-blue than around North. 

Snorkelling off Silhouette Island

Underwater was very pretty – nothing sensational, but it did include parrotfish, a hawksbill turtle, a white-tip reef shark and that general amazing sensation of flying, looking down on an alien world where the primary sound is that of crunching – obviously fish feeding with verve and vigour! After an hour we had to leave Silhouette and turn our faces back to North – Shabbat was coming. 


And not a moment too soon because after that hectic day I was dropping – but kabbalat Shabbat sounds excellent with a sea and some moorhens in the background, and David surprised me with whole-wheat challot amongst other goodies.


Shabbat was the first time that the weather became a bit weatherish – in true tropical form, it would gather up, rain a bit, lose interest so you could walk to breakfast, the sun would shine out for a bit and then the whole thing would start again. This was a pity as I had intended to walk the island end to end and top to bottom but it was not to be. However, I did have two hours of the most brilliant sunshine during which I could walk on the beach, my ears saturated by the eternal suck and roar of the surf, crashing against the rocks that form the end of the beach. And as if that were not enough, a white tropicbird – endangered and beautiful pure white – floated past above me: a Shabbat gift.


You want to know luxury? I’ll tell you what luxury is. Luxury is – when you decide to drive your golf buggy from your villa to the piazza and you park your buggy in the parking area, when you come back – it’s been turned around for you. God forbid you should have to turn your neck at all unnecessarily while you’re here... 


Sunday was also a little rainy. Okay a lot but in spurts – I think it rained 6 times during the day, and we just generally ignored it. Took a walk in the rain around ‘back of house’ with Greg, where they are beginning to be green and do the recycling thing. The white-eyes honoured me again – this time they were at the compost heap! 


Then it was time for the dive – first time in four years. I went with Billy on North Wind, the zhooshe catamaran, over to Coral Gardens, as this dive spot is called, and indeed as I sank through the depths away from the air and gravity, I remembered why I love to dive. It is a garden of many different corals, fan-shaped, manicured ones, skeletal ones – and myriad fish species – small fusiliers, chocolate dips (my favourite of course), job fish, parrotfish, trumpetfish... the list goes on. But suddenly I felt a sharp ticklish feeling on my leg. Looking down somewhat apprehensively, what do I see but a remora fish (usually found on the underside of sharks) who has decided to clean my left leg. Clearly, and embarrassingly, my left leg needed a lot of attention because he didn’t stop nipping at me for most of the dive. He did try the right but clearly the left was his favourite. Occasionally I tried flapping him away but he was a persistent little critter and wasn’t fussed, coming back for more. I guess if you hang with sharks, one wobbly human isn’t going to really bother you. I was reminded of dogs who insist on fawning all over people who don’t like them, only in my case I didn’t mind the attention, although I was convinced the trumpetfish was snorting with laughter...


I was sad to come back up to the surface but what can you do, the problem of lacking gills. The rest of the day wasn’t too shabby though: a delicious lunch of couscous and veggies, a snooze and then up to the spa where Ari (a Balinese woman) and Cong (a Thai man) told us how they make their oils and creams from herbs grown in the vegetable garden. And then – bliss – a back massage just in case we were feeling stressed. We staggered back down to the library where we had a presentation about the development of the island (every night there’s a different one so you can learn a lot while you’re here, it’s not always about hedonism you know) and then, as the rain had stopped and the rainbow had appeared, we flew off in our buggy to West Beach to catch the sunset. No such luck but it was beautiful anyway: we lay on comfy red cushions sipping whisky as the Milky Way, shy and tentative, appeared above us. Hours later, after a veggie braai (this time by Enort from the Cape) and more drinks, we bumped our way home in the golf cart, crushing only one ghost crab in the process. 


Monday was traumatic because we had to leave. Stop snorting, it is traumatic when you’re told you can’t stay in heaven and have to go back down to earth. We got up early to a beautiful day, went over to West Beach again for an early morning swim as the sun was rising on the other side of the island, then joined Linda and Elliot in unearthing a green turtle nest because the hatching was way overdue – either the little guys had left or they had died, and Linda and Elliot check these things, you see. Some seemed to have left but some had never made it past yolk stage – a bit niffy of course by now. A last meeting of Patrick, the giant tortoise, and a fabulous sighting of a white tropicbird nesting in the hollow of a tree, a last walk on the beach and finally I sat with my feet in the pool marvelling at the glorious pristine blue sky with just one obliging tropicbird, like a cross cut out in it, trying to hold onto the last few minutes, but time, like the sands around North Island, will insist on slipping through your fingers. 


Goodbyes said to our new friends, photos taken and David serving us a last dessert – chocolate fondant in all its glory, good lord that’s what heaven must taste like – and then splashing through the waters to board the staff boat, to bump our way back to Mahé and reality.


While no angel with flaming sword stood at the beach to make sure I left North, I had a distinct feeling – presumably the same as Adam and Eve had – that it’s all downhill from here...