In search of the path less traveled: Nicaragua

It will likely take you the whole day to get to Little Corn Island, a small speck of lush jungle meets hidden beaches, with just footpaths and boats to get around. The island is reachable only by boat from nearby Big Corn Island, itself accessible by ferry or flight from the mainland. Often the more difficult to reach places on this increasingly crowded planet are among the more alluring, and this is no exception.

Arriving to Little Corn Island

After 3 flights, a short group taxi, and a bumpy 45 minute boat ride run by some of the friendliest people around, all our weariness dissipated as we disembarked on Little Corn and walked a hundred metres or so to our lodging. Dropping off our bags, we ran out to the nearby beach to take a dip in the sea alongside the setting sun. Afterwards, we feasted on local seafood and pasta at the Italian-run Cafe Desideri, located among the cluster of eateries and sundry shops in town. By 10pm, every spot had closed, and most of the island was asleep amidst a calmness that is increasingly hard to find these days. No cars or motorbikes zoomed past in the night. Even a bicycle was a rare occurrence on an island on which everyone walks. And electricity on the island runs only at night.

Ferry arriving to Little Corn Island

We woke up early and excited for one of the purposes of our trip: scuba diving! Little Corn is surrounded by a shallow reef that is home to an abundance of sea creatures: octopus, turtles, lobster, crabs, shrimp, rays, nurse sharks, and more. We dove with Las Palmeras Dive Center, which is conveniently located and well-run. They typically offer two dives in the morning and a night dive departing just before sunset. The night dives were some of the best I’d experienced anywhere. We were treated to octopus sightings and flashes of bioluminescence when the moonlight disappeared behind some clouds in the sky above us, leaving us in darkness and better able to see the flashes of light all around. 

Beach cove along the northern coast of Little Corn Island, Nicaragua

Dirt trails run across the island through tropical forest filled with mango and other seasonal fruit, leading to small beach coves framed by palm trees.  Worth a visit are the northern beaches (reachable via a 20 minute walk from town past the local stadium, or via a short boat ride), featuring gentle waves great for swimming, a fish shack, and an upscale restaurant called Erizo (part of the Yemaya Reefs resort, the only one on the island). We savored the rondon, a traditional island seafood stew with root vegetables simmered in a coconut milk broth; a cucumber and kiwi salad with calala dressing; palm hearts and fruit ceviche. 

Walking path on Little Corn Island

Yemaya Reef, Little Corn

A few coves to the east is Derek’s Place, another lodging option with hammocks and a laid back vibe. Tracking back inland to then join a path leading to the windward side of the island, you’ll reach Little Corn Beach and Bungalow and its restaurant, the Turned Turtle, where you can eat delicious local specialties with your feet in the sand while watching the waves roll in (note: open for breakfast and lunch only). On our last evening on the island, we had dinner by the southern edge of town at the casual, family-run Melissa’s, serving perhaps the tastiest food around. Named after their young daughter, Melissa’s features fresh, locally caught fish and lobster as well as chicken, served as a stew with vegetables and rice. 

Losing track of time, Little Corn Island

We met a number of foreigners who had come to visit Little Corn, only to find themselves still there years later. The appeal of living on what can perhaps best be described as the edge of civilisation is strong, and it was with some regret that we took the boat back to Big Corn Island to continue our trip. We spent just one night on Big Corn, which was decidedly less charming. It did, however, feature one of the highlights of our trip: Bit Coin Island Bar. It’s a floating wooden bar located off of Arenas Beach (not to be confused with the impostor bar floating nearby, created to piggyback off the success of the original), and you reach it by standing on the beach and waving your arms until they see you and send a speedboat. We didn’t wait for more than a couple of minutes before being whisked away, and in no time at all we found ourselves in the care of Ana, the wonderful bartender who insisted on sharing playlists and dancing with us as the sun dipped below the horizon. 

Big Corn Island

Sunset, Arenas beach, Big Corn Island

The following day, we made our way to Granada, located on the shores of Lake Cocibolca, one of many towns known for its colourful architecture, checkered history, and vibrant community in which Nicaraguans and foreigners mingle. Nicaragua’s colonial past is predictably on display, and it’s easy to visit the main sights in a day or two. We stayed at the central and charmingly designed Casa del Consulado, featuring a refreshing pool in one of the courtyards. A block away is the central square, where you’ll find street vendors and the main cathedral. The nearby Garden Cafe is a great option for lunch and has delicious fruit juices and cocktails. For dinner, the more upscale NM Culinary features an inventive take on local specialties, or try one of the many options along the pedestrian-only Calle La Calzada. We enjoyed the old world charm of Hotel Dario, with an open air restaurant and cafe overlooking a lush central courtyard.

Granada’s vibrant central square

Horses ready for a ride, Granada

Calle La Calzada, Granada

Worth visiting are the Church of the Mercy and the Iglesia Xalteva, each featuring a small belltower from which you can see the expanse of the town leading to the surrounding Mombacho and Masaya volcanos. We also enjoyed a cool stroll around Casa Tres Mundos, one of the oldest buildings in Granada, which today hosts contemporary art exhibits. Afterwards, treat yourself to a cold chocolate from the nearby Bate Bate Chocolate cafe, or even a chocolate massage at the Mansion de Chocolate. Nicaragua is a significant producer of cocoa, and it’s a great gift for those back home. It was time for us, too, to head back home, but the country has so much more to offer. I like to leave something for next time in places I’ve enjoyed visiting, and that is certainly the case with Nicaragua. 

The past meets the present, Granada

Where to eat and drink

Cafe Desideri, Little Corn Island

Tranquilo Cafe, Little Corn Island

Melissa’s, Little Corn Island

Turned Turtle (part of the Little Corn Beach and Bungalow), Little Corn Island

Erizo (part of Yemaya Reefs - upscale), Little Corn Island

Bit Coin Bar, Big Corn Island

The Garden Cafe, Granada

Bate Bate Chocolate, Granada

NM Culinary, Granada

Hotel Dario, Granada

Where to stay

Sunshine Hotel, Little Corn Island

Little Corn Beach and Bungalow, Little Corn Island

Derek’s Place, Little Corn Island

Yemaya Reefs, Little Corn Island

Hotel Casa del Consulado, Granada

Uncharted territories: outer islands of the Socotra archipelago

On my last visit to Socotra two years ago, our guide casually mentioned one evening by our campfire that he wanted to organise a scuba diving trip to the outer islands of the archipelago: Abd al Kuri, Samhah and Darsah. The islands are largely uninhabited, save for a few dozen fishermen and their families. More excitingly, no recreational divers had ever been diving off these islands: they were essentially virgin diving territory, something that is next to impossible to find on our planet these days. Needless to say, I was in.

The prospect of being the first people to explore a small corner of the Earth had me excited for months prior to the expedition this spring. The diving off Socotra had been spectacular, with underwater fields of hard coral gardens exploding with color, shipwrecks slowly being taken over by the sea, and large schools of tropical fish unaccustomed to and unafraid of visitors to their depths. What would we find even further afield?

Fishing boats in the port of Qalansiyah, Socotra

The logistics of getting several divers, gear, tanks, a compressor to refill the tanks, a supply of food, and a vessel to transport it all to the outer islands turned out to be formidable. This is, after all, Yemen. Fortunately, our organiser, Piotr Pazola, speaks Arabic, has been to Socotra seven times, and knows what it takes to get things done. There is just one divemaster living on Socotra with a couple dozen tanks and a compressor, so we brought the rest of our gear. In recent years, the United Arab Emirates have been funding numerous development projects throughout Socotra, including a new military airport base on Abd al Kuri. As a result, after much back and forth over dinner and tea and more dinner and more tea, we received permission to travel to Samhah and Darsah aboard the dhow we had previously secured for the week.   

Our dhow near the port of Qalansiyah

We met the dhow at noon the following day in the port of Qalansiyah on the western end of Socotra, a few hours’ drive from the main settlement of Hadiboh. The captain, a half dozen or so male crew members, and three armed Yemeni soldiers helped load all of our supplies onto the dhow, and we set sail for Samhah. The dhow had an underbelly where everything was stored; a main level where we ate, lounged, and napped; and a small upper area that received much of the engine fumes and was as a result uninhabitable while the dhow was in motion. The “bathroom” was an open air semicircle, roughly waist height, attached to the outside of the main level with a hole in the middle. As there was no privacy on the dhow, we opted to camp on the islands at night.

Sunset from the dhow, Samhah

The bathroom on the dhow

After about six hours, we reached Samhah just as dusk enveloped the island in darkness. We stopped at the main fishing village on the island to declare our arrival to the local sheikh, an ancient-looking man who extended to us every kindness during our stay (though he did try to barter for one of the other female travellers to remain on Samhah as his companion). We set up camp on a beautiful stretch of beach backed by semi-desert and immediately jumped in for a night swim to cool off. To our delight, the sea around us came alive in numerous shades of bright blue in a grand display of bioluminescence. We fell asleep lulled by the sound of the waves crashing just beyond our sleeping bags. 

The beach where we camped on the island of Samhah

Local children, Samhah

For the next few days, we explored Samhah and Darsah, diving three to four times a day from morning to night and enjoying meals of freshly caught fish on the beach in between. The diving did not disappoint: we saw turtles, rays, moray eels, barracuda, curious white-tipped reef sharks, nudibranchs galore, stonefish, scorpionfish, bubble algae, and more. On one dive, a pair of sand sharks chased each other round in circles; on another, an enormous school of glass fish ebbed and flowed around giant coral heads. In these moments, there is nothing else but the now as you breathe, take in your surroundings, and recognise how lucky you are to exist in this beautiful world.

Coves on Darsah

Returning from a dive all smiles

We named one particularly beautiful site Polish Garden, as the first recreational divers to ever dive the site. We also dove the wreck of a giant bulk carrier that had run aground 10 years prior and was now distributed just below the surface at about 10m, encrusted with coral and giant clams as the sea slowly took it over. Schools of grunt hovered around the former bridge of the ship, and we moved to and fro with the waves as we approached the shallows of the wreck. In between dives, we enjoyed being the only humans for miles as we walked along deserted, postcard-perfect beaches, explored sea caves, and watched the sun set over the mountainous interiors of the islands. Our days finished with simply grilled fish as we watched a multitude of stars migrate overhead before falling asleep on the sand. 

Lunch

Scuba diving a shipwreck off Samhah island

On our final day, as we motored away from Darsah, the clouds above the island briefly assumed the shape of a vintage tea kettle, with a genie billowing out from it in white wisps. Make a wish, the genie beckoned. Anything you want. 

I made my wish. A few minutes later, the cloud was back to a simple tea kettle, giving off a few puffs of steam.

A deserted beach on Darsah island

Socotra, Yemen: untouched frontiers

I remember reading about the remote island of Socotra, Yemen, as a young girl. Known as the Galapagos of the Middle East, with nearly 40% of its plants and trees found nowhere else on the planet, Socotra seemed almost unreal. Isolated from the mainland over 6 million years ago, its endemic species resemble something out of a science fiction novel - dragon blood trees (so named for their red sap), bottle trees, and the elusive Socotran chameleon. This year, I decided to make my lifelong dream of visiting the island a reality.

Bottle nose tree, Socotra

Visiting Socotra takes some planning: there is just one flight a week, run as a charter flight via Air Arabia out of Abu Dhabi. You cannot book the flight online; you’ll need to work with a tour operator to arrange it as well as your visa. I went with Piotr (Peter), founder of Pazola Travel, who has arranged multiple trips to the island over the years and seamlessly arranged this one. He is also one of the few operators to prominently feature scuba diving on multiple days of the trip; he is a long time instructor with over 8,000 dives under his belt. Our group of 8 met at the Abu Dhabi airport, having packed all of our scuba diving gear, sleeping bags and headlamps, and lightweight clothes for hiking and adventures in the heat. This is a trip for the adventure-minded: we typically spent the night camping or in relatively basic accommodations, and there are no frills (and very few items available for purchase) once you arrive on Socotra for the week.

Sunset at camp in Dihamri, Socotra

Upon arrival in Hadibo, the largest town on Socotra with a population of roughly 10,000, we were greeted by our guide, Abdularuf, and three drivers with their respective Toyota Land Cruisers, who would be with us for the week. We spent the first night at the Summerland motel, a popular and clean choice in town that even offers some basic breakfast and limited wifi. We headed out for lunch at the most popular restaurant in town, which served grilled fish, chicken, piping hot freshly made local flatbread, and an assortment of freshly squeezed juices (highly recommended). 

Cooking local flatbread in Hadibo

Hadibo at night

Hadibo itself is relatively vibrant, with plenty of locals walking around (women dressed in black in full burqas and men in traditional local colorful dress), mingling with goats and scores of trash (there is no place to discard of trash on the island, and unfortunately most of it ends up on the streets). This is also a place of extreme poverty: most things that end up on the island must be imported, and this is not cheap (or affordable for most of the population living off the land). At the aforementioned restaurant, any food not consumed by paying customers was promptly carried off to an ever-present group of hungry people who didn’t have the means to pay for a meal. At many of the small villages we passed during our time on the island, we encountered groups of children and families subsisting on the bare minimum to survive. Socotra is truly a sobering place that reminds us of just how small and insignificant we all are.

We are the lucky ones, the ones able to sit back in the Land Cruisers and explore the length of this unique and stunningly beautiful place. Our first stop was the Dihamri marine reserve, the longest coral reef on Socotra, where we set up camp for the night and completed a checkout dive with the only local scuba instructor, Walid. The reef is in near pristine condition, a testament to what our planet might be like with sustainable fishing operations. We observed reef sharks, turtles, and thick forests of richly coloured hard and soft coral gardens. I saw no discernible coral bleaching, which I’ve sadly grown used to as the norm at most dive spots around the world. This is a real underwater paradise–and what’s more, equally amazing for divers as well as snorkelers, as many sites have a maximum depth of 30 ft (10m). After our second dive, we hiked among the nearby bottle trees and gazed into the depths of the Arabian Sea as the setting sun turned everything around us a rainbow of red. 

Homhil, Socotra

Arher beach, Socotra

The next morning, we set off further east towards the landscape-dominating sand dunes of Arher. We detoured towards Homhil in the mountains in the interior, from where we hiked with a local guide through dragon’s blood trees and curved canyons shaped by centuries of water culminating in nearby pools overlooking the plateau below us blending into the sea. We trekked down the mountain towards the beach at Arher, where we enjoyed a late afternoon swim with dolphins and a myriad of fish in crystal clear waters. After a quick rinse in the nearby river, we set up camp for the night directly on the beach, falling asleep to the crashing waves. Waking up about an hour before dawn, we hiked up the cool dunes in darkness to enjoy from the top one of the most beautiful sunrises I’ve seen in my travels. 

Sunrise from Arher sand dunes, Socotra

After descending for a light breakfast by our camp, we headed to the easternmost part of Socotra, the fishing village of Irsal, from where we dove a shipwreck covered in decades of reef growth: giant clams, mussels, and bits of hard coral. Afterwards, backtracking eastwards, we completed a second dive (my favourite of the trip) at Rosh. Diving below the surface, we encountered one of the most beautiful and pristine hard coral gardens I’ve ever seen, full of life: a pair of lobsters chasing each other around coral heads, abundant schools of butterflyfish, and a rich microcosm of tiny nudibranch, shrimp, and crabs. 

Colourful fishing boats in the village of Irsal, Socotra

Children swinging from a dragon blood tree, Socotra

A path through the dragon blood trees in Dicksam, Socotra

Dragon blood trees in Dicksam, Socotra

We next ventured into the interior of Socotra, into the depths of Dicksam, reachable via an extremely rocky and long road full of switchbacks. We were rewarded by a sea of dragon’s blood trees stretching in every direction and some of the clearest night skies still largely untouched by human life (and light). We walked through the trees as afternoon turned to dusk turned to night, a showcase of stars complementing the ancient trees around us. The best places I’ve travelled to are the ones that remind you of your fleeting existence on this planet and the immensity and greatness of the world around us; they fill you with hope that despite our destructive tendencies, humans will find a way to live sustainably and coexist with the products of millions of years of evolution. Socotra is one of these places.

The road to Dicksam

Watching the sunset over dragon blood trees, Socotra

The endless night sky in Dicksam, Socotra

Our last two days on Socotra were spent in the far western stretches of the island, miles from other human beings on the beach of Shouab. The decades-old wreck of a large Qatari ship stretches just offshore, offering plentiful sightings of goliath groupers, schools of tang, and numerous sting rays. We spent two dives here; we could have done ten and that wouldn’t have been sufficient. The privilege of being able to dive in such a remote place was not lost on us, and we emerged from the sea feeling changed. 

Pristine Shouab beach, Socotra

If you have even the inkling of a feeling to make your way to Socotra, go: this is a place lost in time, unlike any other on Earth. It doesn’t take long to fall into its rhythm, letting go of the business of the outside world, in favour of a more peaceful, simple existence. This is true paradise for those lucky enough to visit. 

What to pack

Pack lightly, but bring essentials such as medications, a fully charged power bank (minimum 30000 mAh depending on the devices you are bringing), extra memory cards for your camera, etc. You’ll want to travel solely with soft-sided luggage (ideally duffel bags that can be both carried and wheeled). Leave your drone at home; there’s a high chance it will be confiscated by airport authorities in the UAE, where they are illegal.

Most operators will travel with local crew, including a guide, drivers, and chef. The food on our trip exceeded all expectations: a rotating cast of local chicken, freshly caught fish, and the ubiquitous goat, all prepared by our cook in the open air by our camp.

A friendly local on Socotra

If you intend on going with an operator who offers scuba diving, you’ll want to bring all of your own gear, as essentially none is available for rent on the island given there is a sole divemaster. Tanks and weights are of course available, but I recommend bringing an extra mask and ensuring your dive computer has a good working battery. Walid (the local scuba instructor) has a few other pieces of gear for rent, but given the remoteness of the island, the selection is limited and prices are steep. 

Fun fact: There are three things you will see endless amounts of on Socotra: goats, pufferfish, and vultures.

Detwah lagoon, Socotra

The allure of islands

“We live—as we dream—alone…” - Joseph Conrad

These words of Conrad’s resonated with me when I first read them in Heart of Darkness years ago. In many ways, we live independently, never truly knowing the depths of others. For years, I’ve been drawn to remote islands when I travel, and since travel isn’t quite possible right now, I’ve taken some time to reflect on why. Islands are solitary, independent, stoic—they don’t care whether you tend to them or not; they can fend for themselves. They’re the perfect escape, and yet, they are also inescapable. The next ship or flight out may not be for a few days, and until that time, you’re committed. 

One of my favourite beaches on Ikaria

One of my first trips to an island was to Ikaria, which, according to Greek mythology, is formed from the remains of Icarus, who flew too close to the sun. Ikaria is a spectacular mix of dramatic, steep mountains inhabitable only by goats and stunning beach coves where the cliffs meet the sea. Though the island briefly gained some popularity following a New York Times article describing the island’s inhabitants’ longevity (many currently live well into their 90s or later), spurring a wave of dining on Mediterranean staples, it remains a calm and simple place. In a way, things here are much as they were 50 years ago, and perhaps even further back. There is no room for posturing on an island of this size, as everyone knows each other, and gossip remains a vital form of currency. With roots in Ikaria, Mihalis Kavouriaris has been running a language school high up on the northern side of the island, by the village of Arethousa, for over 20 years. Offering a range of relatively intensive courses in Greek language and culture, the school attracts students both young and old, with one thing in common: a sense of adventure. Reaching Ikaria involves a flight into Athens, followed by a transfer to the port of Piraeus, after which you board a ferry for the six hour ride to Evdilos or Agios Kirykos, the two port towns on Ikaria. You can also fly to Ikaria, bypassing some of the journey, but that feels a bit too easy. It was, after all, Odysseus who showed us that the journey is just as important as the destination. 

A beach on the eastern side of Ikaria

The port town of Evdilos on Ikaria

Once at the school, mornings and early afternoons are occupied with classes, but the sun of the midday and late afternoon are all yours. I spent many a scorching afternoon daydreaming at the small outdoor tables overlooking the Aegean (on a clear day, the island of Chios and mainland Turkey come into view), writing down my hopes and dreams for the future. For what I might become. Islands can push you to take a hard look inside yourself and reflect on what you are, and what you want to be, in a way that no other place can. Islands, after all, are focused on survival: what truly matters? What do we need to live? 

The Seychelles

A few years ago, I was lucky enough to travel to a much more remote set of four islands, the Aldabra Group in the Seychelles. Uninhabited save for a few researchers who receive supplies by ship several times a year, this group of atolls was spared destruction by humans because it has no source of fresh water. It is the only place in the world besides the Galápagos where the giant tortoise roams, and you feel very much a passing visitor to a foreign land. You can reach one of the islands, Assumption, by small plane, but you’ll need a ship to see anything else. We travelled there aboard the National Geographic Orion, setting sail from Dar es Salaam in Tanzania a few days prior. One evening, we came ashore from the ship via Zodiac and witnessed sea turtle hatchlings heading out to sea under the superbly clear southern sky. Never had I seen such a dizzying array of stars, so many that it seemed there was more light than darkness in the sky. With the warm Indian Ocean lapping at our feet, it was comforting to feel that we were the only humans around for miles, in a place inaccessible to others: that is also the magic of an island. 

A giant tortoise on Aldabra island

Much of the enchantment of islands is not immediately visible—you’ll need to go below the surface. Aldabra is a coral atoll, and with the tide, while scuba diving or snorkeling, you can drift into its inner lagoon, the current pushing you along its abundant reefs and wildlife in a crystal-clear reverie. Schools of snapper, aggregations of eagle rays, and solitary sea turtles pass by with the most imperceptible of nods. Just offshore, shivers of black-tipped reef sharks circle in the shallows, and you immediately feel a sense of wonder for these often-feared animals. These sharks have no interest in humans, preferring to explore the warm waters in search of fish and to play-fight among themselves. But they are curious: upon dipping a camera into the water, I quickly found a young shark investigating this novel intruder, nudging with its snout to test its boundaries. 

The Faroe Islands

Some islands have developed rich cultures that over centuries have thrived on their seclusion. The Faroe Islands, accessible by plane from Copenhagen, are a place I’ve often dreamed of during this quarantine. Due to the islands’ remoteness, the local people have developed a way of life drawing on their creativity and resourcefulness: food is often fermented to preserve its nutrients for harder times, and no piece of any animal is wasted. More remote villages have been connected via an intricate network of tunnels to ensure passage even during rough seas, resulting in a dispersed but also interdependent population. The islands’ beauty feels all the more striking due to their isolation: you recognise what a privilege it is to experience such a place, to hike for miles in the company of nature, without coming across another human being.

The Faroe Islands

Manhattan from above

And yet, the beauty of islands does not necessarily lie in their remoteness. Some are inhabited so densely that you might easily forget you’re on one. Manhattan is a perfect example: you could live your entire life without leaving, and its connections to the rest of New York City are so heavily trafficked as to feel permanent. Bridges, ferries, subways, buses, bikes are constantly buzzing, and the sense of scarcity here is defined more by the distance between the haves and the have nots. Yet each time I see the Manhattan skyline after some time away, I’m filled with an overwhelming sense of possibility: all humanity is here, and you can find anything you like, at any time of day or night. Authentic Colombian arepas? Just around the corner. Some of the best sushi in the world, flown in daily from Tsukiji fish market in Japan? A few blocks’ walk. A strong community of multi-generational Italians? A short subway ride. In the midst of so much activity, you feel that you are a part of something, that you belong. In the end, perhaps that’s what we live for: this sense of belonging. In many ways, islands group like-minded people, allowing us to share our feelings, plans, and dreams. They are reminders of what we really are.

What place do you dream of?

The most beautiful city in the world

For more island reading, check out this piece by scientist Vivien Cumming.

Planting new seeds on Niue

The waves gently hugged the shoreline as Fiafia Rex showed me how to replant coral pieces in new spots with biodegradable rubber bands. A founder of Oma Tafua, or Niue’s Whale Research Team, she, along with other islanders, are doing their part to help counteract the effects of global warming with the replanting of coral and trees. The last major cyclone to hit the island in 2004 caused significant destruction, with water levels reaching over the cliffs well above us, washing away houses along the shoreline, including most of the capital, Alofi. 

But let’s back up a bit. Niue is a self-governing state in association with New Zealand, though it’s actually located nearly 3,000 kilometres to the northeast, roughly halfway between Fiji and the Cook Islands. Largely comprised of limestone cliffs, which have created dramatic cave and chasm formations, Niue is the largest raised coral atoll in the world, making for some beautiful scuba diving in the surrounding waters. Migrating whales visit the island during the winter months, from July to October, and while the summer can bring rain showers and the aforementioned cyclones, it’s also a much quieter time to visit. With a resident population of some 1,500, that may not make much of a difference, but I found myself completely alone on the many hiking trails and hidden gems the island has to offer, a refreshing change of pace from city life. Note that the extensive coral means that most of the shore is relatively rocky, and access is tide-dependent: this isn’t a spot for a beach vacation.

Hio beach, one of the only sandy beaches on Niue

The main road on Niue

The only way to reach Niue is by two flights a week from Auckland on Air New Zealand, or by ship should you have the chance. You’ll cross the International Date Line en route, so you can relive the previous day all over again in a new locale. I stayed at the Namukulu cottages, about a 25 minute drive north of Alofi and the airport. Run by Michelle and Ross (along with their young daughter Abby), who purchased the property and moved from New Zealand several years ago, they are a peaceful respite for those who are a bit more independent. I hired a car from them for an additional 40NZD per day, which I would highly recommend, and Michelle was there to greet me at the airport. As I visited during the December holiday period, I also got to meet Michelle’s sons George and Harry, who attend boarding school in New Zealand during the school year. Finally, their dog Ruby was always there to greet me and request ear rubs whenever I returned to the cottages. There’s a pool to cool off in, the vistas over the ocean from the property are fantastic, and my inner child loved jumping on the large trampoline. I also thoroughly enjoyed their custom of having a homemade pizza meal with the family the evening of my arrival.

Talava arches, Niue

A full loop of the island by car will likely only take you a few hours, but the plentiful places to stop mean you could easily spend days exploring the island. Well-marked signs indicate many points of interest as well as the amount of hiking time required. One of my favourites was a 20 minute walk each way to the Talava arches, a set of natural archways once used as a lookout point for impending invaders. A walk through a tropical forest filled with several species of crab (I spotted coconut, known locally as uga, hermit, and purple and beige land crabs) leads to a stunning cave, and a short climb down (there are ropes in place) reveals the stunning arches. Better yet, the only sounds were those of crashing waves and seabirds singing overhead. I felt at peace.

A resident coconut crab

Hiking on Niue

Equally impressive is the freshwater Anapala chasm, which was once used for bathing and drinking. It’s best to come at midday, when the little light that can enter through the top of the cleft illuminates the hues of pale green and blue in the water. You can swim through to wider chambers further along the chasm, and the coolness of the water makes for a refreshing break from the outside heat and humidity. Fossilised coral forests make for a challenging if rewarding walk before or after at the nearby Togo Chasm. 

Perhaps the most spectacular sights on Niue are below the surface. I went diving with Rami of Magical Niue and his partner Jody and encountered a richly hued world teeming with life. We saw large schools of fish, sea snakes, moray eels, stingrays, and reef sharks. Unfortunately, as is increasingly typical these days, the coral did show evidence of algae growth and bleaching. Rami has started collaborating with university researchers internationally to replant and regrow coral in areas where it has died off, and thus far his efforts appear to be working. Nature can be quite resilient if we do our part. 

Avaiki

Numerous spectacular snorkeling spots abound as well. My favourites were Avaiki (go during low tide so that you can access the pools) and the Limu Pools (accessible at any time of day). Avaiki was the landing place of Polynesians who came to settle the islands, and the name comes from a derivative of Hawaiki, their ancestral home. The Limu pools feature a rich array of fish, crabs, and sea snakes, and you can also access the outer reef through a channel in the northernmost pool should you be feeling more adventurous. 

Limu Pools, Niue

Driving around Niue is a cultural adventure in itself. You’ll see numerous graves along the side of the road; Christianity was introduced to the island in the 1800s, and today family members are buried directly on their family land rather than a central cemetery. The Niueans I met along the way were incredibly friendly and relaxed, and it’s local custom to wave to anyone you see as you pass by. One of my favourite local interactions was when the aforementioned Fiafia of Oma Tafua invited me to lunch with her colleagues after our coral replanting session at one of the tastiest restaurants on the island, Falalafa. Over freshly grilled fish and chicken, they recounted the challenges they face as the inhabitants of an island small in size but great in conservational importance due to its pristine natural reserves. If you’re looking for a true getaway, Niue is for you.

Niuean sunset

Where to stay

Note that there are just a few options given the size of the island. I stayed at the family-run Namukulu cottages. There is also a hotel on the island, the Scenic Matavai resort, but I found it to feel impersonal when I visited for dinner, and the food unfortunately left much to be desired.

Where to eat

Falalafa for lunch or dinner (the fish & chips are particularly good)

Crazy Uga for a quick bite or morning coffee (note that they close after lunch)

Violama for light bites and cocktails (they run a happy hour with live music on Thursdays)

Gills Indian restaurant for their $5 lunch special

Packing list

Hiking shoes (the sharp coral makes flip flops a poor choice)

Water shoes

Bathing suit

Snorkel gear

Scuba gear & certification card

Light layers

Rain jacket

One last note: keep in mind that this is a very remote island, and as such, everything is relatively expensive. It’s not uncommon to bring some of your own food and supplies from New Zealand, being mindful of customs regulations. On the day of your arrival, you may purchase alcohol (beer, wine, and spirits) duty-free at the liquor store near the airport, next to the island’s main supermarket, Swanson.