ISLAND ARCADIA

Justine Picardie rediscovers Félicité in the Seychelles, a tropical haven that, true to its name, is the epitome of pure bliss

‘We can never go back again, that much is certain…’ So wrote Daphne du Maurier in Rebecca, and these words were echoing in my mind, in the dark days of early January, just before I returned to a remote island named Félicité in the Seychelles. It was a place that had remained forever perfect in my memory, as the setting for an idyllic holiday 18 years ago, when my sons were four and eight, and we were fortunate enough to be there with a group of friends and family. At the time, Félicité – whose apt translation into English would be blissfulness – was uninhabited, apart from two adjoining guest lodges; a verdant paradise, with a wild rainforest, deserted beaches of white sand, and overgrown footpaths where one might encounter a giant tortoise. We’d snorkelled amid vivid coral reefs, and swum alongside sea turtles and shoals of tropical fish. Nothing, it seemed, could ever come close to this unspoilt Eden; but nor had I imagined the possibility of revisiting the island, for apparently the lodges where we’d stayed were closed.

So when I heard that Six Senses Zil Pasyon – a luxury retreat of 30 villas – would be opening on Félicité I was torn between longing to see it and worrying that it might not live up to my expectations. In the end, however, my curiosity overcame any concerns; and my younger son Tom and I travelled there together earlier this year. His memories of our first trip were, in his words, ‘turtles, tortoises and tropical rain’ – but as soon as we arrived, we both recognised the familiar thatched roof of the lodge where we’d stayed in 1999. This is now the main restaurant for the resort; the new villas are a little further along the coastline, which had formerly been impassable, due to an impenetrable jungle of vines.

Six Senses has created something very special with these villas, which are nestled among the island’s characteristically sculptural granite rocks – almost hidden by monumental ancient geological formations. Clad in weathered wood, the villas look completely at home here; and we, too, feel similarly at ease from the moment we step inside. The beds are draped with translucent white cotton; turquoise rugs and cushions provide a few splashes of colour, but the overall effect is of serene simplicity, filled with natural light. Thoughtful touches abound, such as the wildlife books placed in the bathroom, which means you can brush your teeth having identified the tropical birds that swoop and sing in the greenery on the other side of floor-to-ceiling windows.

The resort’s ecological credentials are impressive: solar power provides energy and hot water, while invasive vegetation and alien interlopers, such as the plantations of rampant cocoplums (brought here more than a century ago), have been replaced by indigenous trees, which in turn provide a natural habitat for Seychellois birds that had in the past been lost to the island. The morning after our arrival – following a restful night’s sleep, in the gentle cocoon of darkness, and mercifully free of mosquitoes – we meet Steve Hill, a local ecologist who has been at the forefront of the herculean efforts to restore Félicité to its former glory. ‘We’ve planted 40,000 trees here,’ he says, as he guides us on a hike through one of the island’s hidden valleys, ‘to return this landscape to its true and original state. We started by removing

A verdant paradise, with a wild rainforest, deserted beaches of white sand, and overgrown footpaths where one might encounter a tortoise

the crops that were planted during the colonial period, which were strangling everything else. And we also had to clear the island of the rats that were eating the birds’ eggs…’ (I am mightily relieved to hear that the rats have been removed thanks to Steve and his heroic team, and as a consequence, the birdlife is thriving again.)

Along with the precious specimens reintroduced to Félicité – including saplings of iron-trees, which are among the rarest in the world – a fruit orchard and vegetable garden has been planted to supply the resort with home-grown produce, including figs, oranges, guavas, pomegranates, papayas, mangos and avocados (all of which, as Steve is quick to point out, are non-invasive species). Certainly, the food we eat every day is truly delicious – the talented chef, Richard Lee, serves up freshly caught grilled fish, palm-heart salads, authentic curries cooked with local spices, and delectable mango and coconut sorbets.

At the time of our visit in January, the Six Senses’ new spa had not yet opened (although it is now fully operational, and receiving glowing reviews); but thanks to healthy cuisine, the fresh air and plentiful opportunities to walk, swim and snorkel, a few days on the island are enough to increase one’s sense of wellbeing and calm, without any recourse to a gym. Speaking as someone who finds it almost impossible to switch off my thoughts, whether through conventional techniques of meditation or mindfulness, I found Félicité’s peaceful atmosphere almost miraculously restorative.

There’s also something reassuring about the sense of timelessness on the island. As Tom and I explore these beaches together, I remember the little boy he used to be, his hand in mine, searching for cowries (the shells that once upon a time, when I was a child, my mother said would bring us good luck). My son is now a tall young man, strong enough to swim far beyond me in the ocean, but there are still cowries washed up on the sand, and the graceful seabirds – migrants from a Northern winter, like us – soar across the waves. Plovers, sandpipers, curlews and terns are everywhere to be seen, and whitetailed tropicbirds (one of which we discover nesting in a hollow tree beside the infinity pool, its fledgling a ball of fluff, safe beneath the maternal wing, apparently as calm and happy to be in these surroundings as we are).

Clouds scud across the skies above Félicité; sudden rainstorms are blown away by the warm winds; and blue skies fade, then burst forth again in a blazing sunset, streaks of coral, rose-pink, crimson and tangerine, the final sunrays gleaming on the horizon, like a celestial path towards the edge of the world.

On our last evening, we sit on the jetty together, quiet and content, and are rewarded at last by the sight of a pair of hawksbill turtles that paddle into sight, nibbling the seaweed on the surface of the shallow water, delicate yet intent on their feeding. Afterwards, we walk over to the open-air restaurant, with its view of the old stone jetty where our boat had moored all those years ago, and there, waiting for us, is the resort’s charming general manager, Edouard Grosmangin, who has discovered the visitors’ book from a previous era. We leaf through the faded pages together, searching through the lists of past guests, until we find our own signatures, along with the dates of our stay. Tom had carefully printed his name, in the rounded letters of a four-year-old; beneath that, he’d written: ‘we ate the breadfruit!!!’ And then I remember (how could have I forgotten until now?) the island tradition that if you eat breadfruit before leaving, you will return to Félicité…

At dinner that night, breadfruit is served; we both eat a substantial serving, and again the following morning, before setting off on the long journey home to London. Will the magic continue working for us? Here’s hoping… but more important, perhaps, is the discovery that even though time may not stand still on Félicité, the natural marvels and miracles of this blissful island seem somehow to endure.

Six Senses Zil Pasyon (+248 467 1000; www.sixsenses.com), from about £1,025 a night B&B for a one-bedroom pool villa.