Fregate Island Private

Bobbing in the boat as we approach Fregate Island Private in the Seychelles, I give Mr Smith a smile. I feel as though I’m on honeymoon – even though five minutes ago I was cursing my beloved for vetoing the helicopter ride we were offered as a means to reach the luxury tropical island. My forgiving attitude may, in part, be due to the dazzling scene that comes into view – pristine white-sand beaches, lush green forests and sea so blue it would make Frank Sinatra’s eyes green.

A warm smile and cold drink greet us as we step onto the talcum-soft sand. Matthews, a young Kenyan man, introduces himself as our personal assistant. In no time, he’s whisking us off in a buggy through the dense forest, past the plantation house, the agricultural area and the protected sanctuary for juvenile giant tortoises. First stop: reception. This is set high above the beach and has a restaurant with wraparound views of the Indian Ocean. Dining here is definitely on our to-do list. The ever-helpful Matthews leads us to our villa – one of just 16 on the island – leaving us with the buggy, a map and enormous grins on our faces as we spy the private Jacuzzi overlooking the sea.

There will never be more than 40 guests at one time on the intimate island of Fregate, so you won’t have to fight for a sunbed on any of the seven beaches. And if total privacy is what you desire (perhaps you want to imagine how Tom Hanks felt in Castaway?), two of the beaches can be exclusively yours by turning a sign to read ‘beach occupied’. But you won’t have to forage for food or survive on coconut milk as any meal can be served on any beach. Better than talking to a volleyball.

After an amazing afternoon lazing on the beach, listening only to the soft lapping of the water and the odd crab scurrying past, it’s time to explore. Not wanting to burn myself out, my ‘expedition’ takes me only as far as the Rock Spa. Mr Smith is ready for more action, so takes the buggy to see what adventure he can find. Destination: unknown. Walking past grand granite boulders, giant banyan trees and freshwater pools, I arrive at the spa, set high on a clifftop. As dusk approaches and I sit waiting for my massage, I’m mesmerised by the flying foxes criss-crossing, showing off for their one-woman audience. Already completely chilled out, I wonder if a massage could possibly make me any more relaxed. ‘There’s only one way to find out,’ I think as my masseuse enters and starts working her Fregate Paradise Massage magic. Blissed out doesn’t even begin to cover it.

I float back to the villa on a cloud of aaaahh. Sitting on the sun deck, champagne in hand, I am lost in tranquility. Mr Smith bursts into my sanctuary, excited and incoherent. He has found a west-facing beach to watch the sunset and then stumbled across the last few turtle hatchlings of the season. He’s watched them break free from their shells and make the death-defying scramble to the relative safety of the sea. He even heroically saved one from the jaws of death – well, from the claws of a predatory crab. I’m secretly jealous of his adventures.

At dinner, we feast on a delicious spread of fresh job fish and organic, island-grown fruit and vegetables – all the while drinking in the aforementioned stunning view. Tummies full, we turn in at a reasonable hour in preparation for an active day ahead.

Bleary eyed, we meet Fregate’s conservation manager, Steve Hill, at 7am, vowing we’ll walk for no longer than an hour. But, three hours later, hot and sweaty, we are still being taken on a show-and-tell tour of this 300-acre haven. Steve’s passion for the island is infectious – he is, without doubt, the soul of Fregate. He enthuses about its colourful history, showing us ruins of a wall built by pirates and regaling us with tales of buried treasure. At every turn, I expect David Attenborough’s voice to trickle through the trees… ‘And here we have the magpie robin, saved from extinction… Marvel at the Aldabra giant tortoises, wandering ponderously along… This wild plant is famed for its aphrodisiac qualities…’

As if on cue, David – I mean Steve – is interrupted by the most incredible noise, unlike anything I’ve ever heard. With a knowing smile, he leads us in the direction of the racket. We gingerly approach a clearing – and all is revealed. Two giant tortoises had clearly had a chomp of that wild plant because here they are, mating. A reptile romp – there’s something you don’t see every day. After ogling a little, we sense their embarrassment and back away.

The end of the tour comes all too quickly but, alas, an underwater adventure awaits. But not before Matthews greets us with fresh coconuts and water. The spectacular flora and fauna has impressed me more than I could have imagined and, as I approach the marina, I wonder if Fregate’s water world will provide the same wow factor. It does. And then some. I can’t wait to get back to Mr Smith – who opted to relax on the beach – to tell him I fulfilled my dream of swimming with a fully grown manta ray. Now it’s his turn to be jealous of my adventures.

A sunset champagne cruise and Creole buffet is the ideal finale to our idyllic break at Fregate Island Private. We clink glasses and ponder on the paradise that’s been our home for the past two nights, and agree that we have been utterly spoilt. On the cruise, the friendly dolphins even come out to play around our boat, as if to wave us off. I’m sure the tortoises would have come to say goodbye too but they are probably still otherwise engaged. Young love, you see.