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low profile, Alexander Abramov. He built the lodge simply so he might enjoy this remote corner of the world from time to time in unashamed luxury.
I’m guided by immaculately uniformed (and mostly kiwi) staff through the lodge’s towering doors, intricately carved by local indigenous artisans, to find that I’m the only guest. It’s a unique opportunity to experience Helena Bay as I suspect it was intended. While I’m assured by Scottish general manager Neil Mcfarlane, a no-nonsense former superyacht captain handpicked by Abramov, that the billionaire allows other guests to stay while he’s visiting (anonymously of course), I’m thinking to myself, rather selfishly, “Why would you?”
I find it remarkably easy to slip into billionaire estate-owning character, replacing the persona of an impoverished travel writer with that of a well-to-do oligarch retreating from busy corporate life. Once I’ve settled into my ocean-facing Junior Suite, with its super king-size bed, Christian Fischbacher robes, Hefel of Austria linens and mosaic-lined bathroom, I strike out to inspect the property, wondering how a typical billionaire spends his days off ?
Nestled into three kilometres of private shoreline and backed by its own 215-hectare farm, Helena Bay took eight years to develop. The main lodge wraps around a large infinityedged swimming pool. A small fitness centre housing a spa, sauna, steam room and icy plunge pool is housed in one wing. Lounges, libraries and snugs with fireplace, plus an extensive art collection, occupy another. Two dining rooms open onto tiled terraces and expansive lawns that double as a helicopter pad. Beyond, orca are often seen in the tranquil waters of the bay. On one of the estate’s five secluded coves, a beach house is under construction to provide guests with an additional daytime retreat.
I join resident farm manager John and his trusty blue heeler to climb a track up vertiginous slopes, past llama, goats and the estate’s own wagyu cattle, to a peak with faceslappingly beautiful views out to the Poor Knights, home to some of the best diving in the southern hemisphere. The world below is a patchwork of greens and blues, and the lodge looks tiny from this lofty spot. Outside John’s role at the lodge, the Northland native works with farmers to train their dogs not to attack kiwis, and hopes one day the flightless birds can be reintroduced to Helena Bay. He points out ancient pa, fortifications the local Ngatiwai people once used to protect against marauding tribes of Maori from the south.
the estate’s sprawling gardens meet passionate chef Michele Martino, who has brought to New Zealand the Michelin-starred cuisine of southern Italy’s Don Alfonso 1890, where he was the protégé of chef Ernesto Iaccarino. Martino grows almost everything he needs on site. “There’s something very satisfying about being able to choose what to cook each day based on what nature has offered,” says the ever-smiling chef as he examines a crop of pomodori di pachino, the luscious tomato of southern Italy. “Everything grows well here. It’s paradise.”
Martino uses the exceptional produce to create spectacular, insightful dishes, from seared slipper lobster with pesto to John Dory with anchovy and star anise cream, which are served in the cosy, book-lined den by waiters in slightly out-of-place tuxedos. If it were my estate, I’d go for something a little more contemporary with the uniform, but the service is crisp and refined and the meal truly magical.
The next morning, I do as the super-rich apparently do and contemplate life in the steam room before having it flash before my eyes as I leap into the pool, bashfully waving at another CCTV camera hidden in a thicket of native bush.
There are plenty of relaxing or energetic activities on offer, from helicopter flights to the famous Hole in the Rock on Motukokako Island and rounds of golf at acclaimed Kauri Cliffs, to hiking and diving excursions. There’s even a tennis court complete with murderous ball machine permanently set to “Anna Kournikova,” and a little pier from which guests can fish for snapper.
After a day and a half of pretending to be a media-shy billionaire, I’m well rested and well fed but a little lonely, so my advice to oligarchs and anyone else planning a few days in this bucolic paradise: pack your jet with the right people, because Helena Bay may be a luxury lodge, but it’s always better when it feels like a home.