Forget frolicking on the beach at this beautiful Maldives resort – it’s perfect for surfing (but the ridiculously exotic luxury version)

Breakfast on Gili Lankanfushi and I sip my iced coffee while swinging in a rope hammock overlooking the impossibly blue lagoon.

Nearby, some cookies under palm trees, pausing to sip the first cocktails of the day. Others emerge from overwater villas bleary-eyed after sleeping under the stars on their rooftop terrace.

Everything is as expected in this corner of the Indian Ocean. Except my husband Dan and I are more interested in surfing, which I thought wasn’t in the Maldives. Located in the North Male Atoll, just a 20-minute speedboat ride from Male Airport, Gili opened in 2000 as an original overwater resort.

But the tide is turning. And the resort, like many others in the Maldives, is starting to take advantage of the world-class waves the archipelago has to offer.

When calm waters pass over the islands, the currents hit the surrounding reefs, creating waves suitable for everyone from beginners (like me) to experts. On our first morning we meet our surf instructor Johnny in his “office”, a thatched beach hut on the beach with surfboards on every wall and signs saying “gone surf” and “surf is hard, we’ll make it easy”. ‘.

We discuss my skills and 20 minutes later I’m bobbing up and down on a giant blue foam surfboard, our private speedboat anchored just meters away.

Triggerfish splash around on the surface, speckled eagle rays glide through the waters below, and electric orange clownfish bang their heads against coral. “This is perfect for you, H,” Johnny said in his thick Aussie accent as he rowed towards me. He pushes me onto the surf and forces me to jump up. I can see through the sunlit water to the reef below as I move nervously across the wave, arms wide and knees bent, before an unfriendly tumble.

We and two young Australian brothers are alone on the reef for two hours. I am the only student.

“The resort, like many others in the Maldives, is starting to take advantage of the world-class waves that the archipelago has to offer,” says Harriet. Above are surfers on Gili Lankanfushi

While the others dance along walls of water every few minutes, I take long breaks and watch the waves rise, changing from dark blue to frothy turquoise as they crash against the reef.

Johnny, whose full name is appropriately Johnny Free, has been on the island for a year. His tanned, faded shorts and sparkling eyes are a testament to his years of work at resorts in the Seychelles, Fiji and Sri Lanka. He can read the waves perfectly; pushed me into the perfect position in the softer one and gave me feedback every time. Our Captain and his staff will for mr. Free and his followers whistle to signal that time is up.

They pull our surfboards out of the water as we get back on board to fresh, chilled towels and ice cold water. And then I saw it. A giant green turtle craning its neck for breath just a few meters away. It stays there for a minute, dipping its head into the water and rocking its shell before diving deep below the surface again.

It’s surfing, but the ridiculously exotic, luxury version. Later that day we meet the honeymooners for our post-surf recovery massage. Large glass panels break up the treatment rooms’ wooden floors, allowing us to watch crabs crawl over the coral and unicorn fish chase prey as we are stretched, twisted and slapped. Every now and then my therapist’s toes come into view as she pushes the tension down and hammers away.

“Triggerfish splash around on the surface, speckled eagle rays slide through the water below, and electric orange clownfish bang their heads against coral,” writes Harriet.

Our days become almost rhythmic: breakfast follows surfing, followed by lunch, spa treatments and dinner. My surfing skills seem to improve more in three days with Mr Free than in the 30 years I’ve mastered the sport.

Every free time is spent in our large, rustic-chic villa, built on stilts over the water and equipped with floor-to-ceiling windows, a deep oval bathtub, an outdoor shower, and a large sundeck with daybeds, catamarans, and a hammock that hangs over water just a swim or so from our villa.

But unlike almost all the other villas scattered along the promenade, ours (a Crusoe residence) is truly a getaway, alone by the sea, accessible only by our own private boat.

Then grabs the little wooden boat and finds any excuse to untie it from the stilts, start the engine and head across a lagoon to the main island.

Harriet spends her morning surfing before returning to the resort for lunch, spa treatments and dinner. The overflow bar is shown

A family villa in the resort. Gili opened in 2000 as the original overwater resort, Harriet reveals

The Robinson Crusoe theme continues with the “Mr (or Ms) Fridays”; private butlers available 24 hours a day. Ours, Naff, run our lives so smoothly that we want to take them home with us.

She arranges everything: snorkeling equipment, sunset champagne, breakfast in bed. She even sorts our airport Covid travel declaration form.

On her advice we go to the main restaurant for the “Brazilian BBQ” on our last night. Smiling staff roll around amid a fiery sunset, smoking barbecue and serving skewers of everything from jobfish and squid to bacon-wrapped chicken. We devour the crowd.

“Are you busy enough?” a friend who knows us well writes. “A lot,” I replied. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever had such a satisfying vacation. A place where heaps of delicious food and spa treatments feel very well deserved.