When you step
into the water, it is like being in your own private aquarium.
Nobody goes to the Maldives for
culture. Nor do they go for hills, lakes or rivers – there aren't any. But for
people who love water, there is no place on earth quite like it. You wake to
the hypnotic sound of oceanic waves. When you step into the water, it is like
being in your own private aquarium. Imagine a designer like Kenzo or Missoni
being let loose on fish: those ravishing catwalk colours and patterns are
exactly what you see when you look under the waters of the Indian Ocean.
The curious mixture of
honeymooners and scuba divers drawn to this island nation stay in luxurious
water villas built over lagoons and connected to the land by narrow jetties. So
compelling is the ocean that it is very difficult to get anything done.
Isolated in your own little slice of hotel heaven, you can either retreat into
blissful, self-imposed purdah, gazing for hours at the ocean, or spy, Rear
Window-style, on other guests. Normally this kind of undercover people-watching
is one of the quiet joys of hotel life, but here it is the fish that are the
greatest distraction. Who wants to look at love-struck couples downing
margaritas in the hotel bar when you could be swimming with the fishes in a warm,
deserted lagoon with no jet skis or speedboats to spoil things?
Of the 87
resort islands, I picked Baros as my first stop because it has a tiny diving
school that offers one-to-one tuition for novices. Off-season (July), there were so few guests that I felt as though I had the place to
myself. There was no danger of bumping into anyone I knew. And I was comforted by the size of the island: it is so small that
in only half an hour you can swim around it – and that's without flippers.
On my second
day, I looked out at a sea so calm and benevolent it would have been a crime
not to go underwater. Of course I could have gone snorkelling, but I had always
wanted to learn to dive in a beautiful, sunlit place, free from other people
and the municipal misery of a public pool in Britain. Until now I had always
been too scared to try, even when foreign holidays offered the opportunity. It
wasn't fear of sharks but of all the technical things that could go wrong. What
if my goggles leaked, or my tank ran out of oxygen?
After
breakfast, I grabbed my swimsuit and went in search of the island's diving
instructors, Derk and Margreet Molenaar, a free-spirited Dutch couple who
operate from a timber-roofed hut at the end of a jetty. Could they teach me one
to one? It was early in the morning and none of the other guests had surfaced.
Margreet took me under her wing.
After she ran
me through the rudiments and taught me a few signals – an "o" with my
fingers to indicate I'm OK, a fluttering of one hand to show there's a problem
– she helped me into a light wetsuit, cut off at the knee and elbow.
"Baros is a very good island for beginners because of the house reef and
lagoon," she said, as we walked along a beach shaped like a crescent moon.
At the water's
edge, a small tank was hoisted onto my back and an astonishingly hefty belt
tied at my waist. "Any sharks?" I asked, nerves in shreds, as I
lowered myself into the water, wondering if I would drown under all that
weight. "Yes, there are white- and blacktip reef sharks in the lagoon, but
they don't go after humans unless you provoke or tease them," she said,
tightening my belt. "There must be a reason."
So that's OK,
then, I told myself. So long as I behave, they will. Not quite the reassurance
I had hoped for, but I was quickly distracted by what was going on below me.
One moment I was snorkelling merrily, hearing the splash of my flippers and the
encouraging cries of my friends on the beach; the next I was plunged into a
mesmerising underwater world, clutching Margreet's hand as I swam through
shafts of sunlight, the only noise the rasp of my breathing.
As we circled
and swooped, she pointed out shoals of stripy Oriental sweetlips, spotted eagle
rays and red-tailed butterfly fish. All these deceptively Disney-like creatures
were going about their business with supreme indifference to us, and it was
strangely reassuring. Slowly we swam deeper until we could see parrot fish
nibbling on the coral and sea cucumbers coiled like snakes on the waterbed.
When we eventually came up, it was in slow stages. We had been underwater for
almost an hour, but it felt like only 10 minutes.
Back at the
diving centre, as I peeled off my wetsuit, Margreet told me about Kuda Haa, a
reef known locally as "fish soup", which is heaving with turtles,
reef sharks, Napoleon fish and moray eels. All I needed to go there was to pass
my PADI certificate – just four more days of training. As I headed back to my
water villa, barefoot, wet-haired and giddy with joy, I suddenly understood why
diving was so addictive. Before I saw the islands for myself, I had always
dismissed the Maldives as the default choice of honeymooners with lots of cash
and no imagination. Now, having explored a teeming underwater world fraught
with perils yet oddly soothing, my visit felt like the adventure of a lifetime.
The best of
Baros
The Maldives is
a celebrity hot spot. Here are a couple of favoured islands.
Huvafen Fushi
Liz Hurley and
Arun Nayar have stayed at this hippy-chic 40-room resort, which has an
underwater spa where you can watch turtles weaving in and out of the coral, and
an infinity pool lit by fibre-optics. It also claims to have the largest wine
cellar in the Indian Ocean. There is an open-air restaurant (Asian/Italian
food), run with great flair by the island's flamboyant sommelier, Sonny. The
hotel claims its water villas are built higher than on other islands so you are
not disturbed by the slap of water on concrete. Spotted eagle rays and even
baby sharks are sometimes seen in the lagoon here. Yoga
pavilion, but no diving school.
The Four
Seasons
(Landaa Giraavaru)
This immaculate
102-room resort, set in a coconut plantation, attracts experienced divers as
well as well-heeled stars (Mariella Frostrup is a regular). There's an
excellent restaurant, a 15-metre infinity pool with views out to sea, a
children's pool, a spa, library/games room and a tennis court. The resort has a
diving school, as well as a separate watersports centre and an aquarium.
Bathrooms in the water villas have floodlit portholes for watching fish. This
is one of the larger islands, so if you are at the far end of one of the water
villa jetties, it can feel exposed, particularly if the wind is up and the sea
is choppy. For more information visit www.fourseasons.commaldiveslg
Getting there
Best time to go
Carbon
offsetting
Other tour
operators