Escape the stress of the working world with millionaires

By CARROLL DU CHATEAU*

As the 10-seater sea-plane climbs over the mountains the rhythm changes. The monotonous buzz of the engine shrills a little, the floor bumps up to meet my feet. Basil, up the front with the pilot, is probably bug-eyed by now. He hates flying, and had to be drugged to get on the plane.

Soothing myself with the thought there is no way Vatulele Resort, voted one of finest the world, would let its multimillionaires sue, I concentrate on the coral reef, which like a lace frill around the green island of Fiji's Veti Levu, disappears into the distance. Then, in a blink, the tiny island of Vatulele appears, we bank and before I can tell the pilot that the tide is out and the lagoon too shallow to land, we're there, surfing into shore with a turtle in our wake.

One of the charms of Vatulele Resort is that they let you have a few adventures. Cosseting, though it happens all the time, is either invisible, or super-personal.

It starts immediately. Threaten to wet your Workshop capris and someone hunky lifts you gently out of harm's way - but lets you dip your toes in the glass-clear water at the same time.

They believe in welcomes here. As we arrive a group of about 10 Fijian staff sing us ashore and farewell guests who are leaving. Amid the tears, hugs and photographs we are presented with frothy fruit cocktails. Our luggage is manhandled up the beach. And, with the Vatulele love song Isa Lei plunking from a small ukelele accompanying a makeshift choir of Fijians and departing guests in our ears, we make our way up to the main bure for our first glass of Mumm for the day.

There are several unwritten rules at Vatulele. One, champagne doesn't make you tired or crabby. Two, everyone, staff and guests alike, is addressed by Christian name only (there's a board by the bar so you can check names against photos). Three, no one talks about their job or money. Four, you always feel welcome and adored. Five, all mirrors are positioned to make you look slim and gorgeous. Six, no money changes hands. Seven, there are no phones, faxes or computer plugs in the bures. Eight fiendishly clever plantation shutters, rather than glass, regulate air flow and heat in the windows. Nine, no one wears shoes. Ten, nothing is too much trouble.

As Salote explained as she showed us round our yellow-washed, Santa Fe-style bure with its double hammock and bottle of Mumm chilling in a silver bucket, "You can stay here all week if you want to. To get someone's attention, all you have to do is put your flag on the beach and someone will arrive and bring you what you want."

Danielle, a sporty sort of mistress of ceremonies, spells it out even more clearly. "Once you're here the place is yours," she says. "If you don't feel like coming to the dining bure for lunch, just order in your room.

Want a romantic picnic of lobster and champagne on Nookie Nookie Island where even the dive boat is forbidden to come close? It's yours. And feel free to wander down to the wine cellar and choose what you want to drink - open a bottle and try it. It's all yours."

At Vatulele it is as though an eccentric, arty genius has worked out everything you might need before you know yourself - then added some surprises to get the adrenalin going.

The Point, a Mediterranean-style eyrie built for people like Tommy Lee Hooker who want unimaginable luxury and privacy, sits at one end of the long, white beach, overlooking Martin's Folly - a pink, upside-down icecream-cone concoction where guests can eat breakfast, lunch or dinner lying Roman-style on banquettes.

Down on the beach, say 20m from the lagoon, 18 bures, angled and planted for privacy, are tucked into bush decorated by butterflies that hover like movable flowers.

About 10m in front of our bure is a smaller, thatched beach bure containing two loungers which you can pull in and out of the shade. That's where they stash your flag so you can hitch a ride, say on the snorkelling boat as it heads for the reef, or order that VeuveClicquot. At the side of the big bure, which is about as big as our house, is a rope to hang outside when you're taking a nap. Leave it alone and every couple of hours someone will pad down with extra towels, a lighted lantern at dusk so you can find your way to dinner, fresh flowers, more champagne.

Around meal times you either drift along to the dining bure to join an ongoing dinner party with the other guests, or someone with an eye for symmetry will set up a table on the beach. It is impossible to imagine anything more romantic than a white-clothed table, lit by candles and the moon, sitting alone on the edge of a pristine lagoon. I can't remember what we ate, but the wine chosen earlier from the cellar, the wide white grin of our cheerful Fijian waiter, who took delight in shouting "cheers" every time he topped our glasses, will stay with me forever.

At Vatulele they like to get all your senses on high alert. One rainy day both Mela and the smiling guy from the dive/activities bure sploshed along, barefoot and laughing through the mud and puddles, for a full half hour. When we arrived at some eerie caves hung with stalactites, he climbed onto on a high rock and dived into what looked like a green puddle. Only when I slithered down the rock face, slid in and plunged for the bottom, did I realise that that glassy puddle was around 3m deep.

But that heart-thumping experience was nothing compared to the day Joe took us on a snorkelling expedition near Nookie Nookie island where the coral is exceptional. Then, when I was transfixed by a wide-open giant clam, tentacles waving in the current, Joe pointed to something long and large. I could just make out the fin on its back in the gloom.

But by then the Vatulele magic had done its trick. "Remember Basil," I told myself. Just stay limpet-close to Joe, and all will be fine. You couldn't be eaten by a shark in a place where they charge $1100 a couple a day.

Case notes

When to go

Being so near the equator, Fiji's climate is relatively constant. "Winter" is June to August, with temperatures of 19C to 28C and dry, cool weather; September-May weather is warm and humid with temperatures of 20C to 31C.

How to get there

Air Pacific flies Auckland-Nadi every day except Monday, and Auckland-Suva on Mondays and Fridays. Standard return fares range from $935 to $1127 so check for package deals. Air New Zealand operates Auckland-Nadi every day except Mondays and Thursdays. Standard return fare $935. Pacific Island seaplanes operate year-round from Nadi to most islands. The trip to Vatulele costs A$330 ($380).

What to take

Togs, hats, sulus/sarongs, skirts, pants or outrageous clothes for dinner, shorts and trainers for the energetic, sunblock and a light, long-sleeved shirt, insect repellent.

For Crusoes, pack a pair of light, rock-walking shoes (about $12 from the Warehouse) which are ideal for messing about in the lagoon.

Vatulele

Air Pacific

The Fiji Islands


* Carroll du Chateau flew to Fiji courtesy of Air Pacific and was a guest of the Vatulele Resort.