Pacific dreams
Pacific Resort Aitutaki in the Cook Islands beckons.
Photography by David Kirkland Photography
01 December 2024
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The plane circled over Aitutaki, a coral atoll flung like a handful of pearls across the Pacific Ocean, each islet shimmering in the blinding sunlight. I pressed my nose against the window, gazing down at the lagoon that seemed almost implausibly blue, a colour that should exist only in the overzealous imagination of a travel brochure designer.
It was a view that belonged to dreams, to postcards, to the fanciful notions of paradise conjured by poets and romantics. But this was real, as real as the slight clamminess of my palms and the hum of the small aircraft preparing for descent.
Pacific Resort Aitutaki greeted me with the understated charm of a place that knows it has nothing to prove. There was no grand entrance, no gilded columns or chandeliers, just a thatched reception area framed by swaying coconut palms and the smiling faces of the resort staff who welcomed me with a fragrant frangipani lei and a chilled glass of passionfruit juice.
It was the kind of welcome that felt like an embrace, warm and genuine, setting the tone for the days that lay ahead …
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Pacific Resort Villas
I was shown to my villa, a serene sanctuary tucked discreetly into the landscape, almost as if it had grown there of its own accord.
The architecture was a careful blend of Polynesian tradition and modern comfort – high, peaked roofs of thatched pandanus leaves, wide verandas, and a sense of openness that blurred the lines between inside and out.
As I stepped inside, I was struck by the simplicity of the décor: cool, whitewashed walls adorned with local art, polished wooden floors that creaked ever so slightly underfoot, and a bed draped in soft linens that beckoned invitingly.
Lagoon views from the Pacific Resort, Aitutaki
Through the floor-to-ceiling sliding doors, the lagoon stretched out before me, a dazzling expanse of turquoise that seemed to shift and shimmer with every passing cloud. The beach was soft, white sand that curved gently along the shoreline, meeting the water in a languid embrace. It was a view that could stop you in your tracks, that made you want to sit down and simply breathe it in, to let the peace of it seep into your bones.
Breakfast was served at the Rapae Bay Restaurant, a breezy, open-air space perched on a hill with panoramic views of the lagoon. There were platters of fresh tropical fruits—pineapple, papaya, and mango sliced into perfect, juicy crescents—and baskets of pastries so light and flaky they seemed to dissolve on the tongue. Coffee was strong and dark, a necessity for those who, like me, prefer to face the world gradually.
What to do in Aitutaki
Mornings were for exploration. I would take a kayak from the beach, paddling out into the lagoon where the water was so clear I could see the coral gardens blooming below, teeming with fish in colours too bright to be real.
Afternoons were for indulgence submitting myself to the hands of the spa therapist, who seemed to possess a near-magical ability to untangle the knots in my shoulders and quiet the endless buzzing of my mind. The spa, nestled among lush foliage, was a sanctuary within a sanctuary, a place where time seemed to slow even further, where the outside world faded to a distant memory.
Nightlife in Aitutaki
Evenings were a revelation, sitting on the deck of my villa, a glass of chilled sauvignon blanc in hand, watching as the sun dipped below the horizon, setting the sky ablaze in a riot of pinks and oranges and purples.
The nights were hushed, the only sound the whisper of the waves and the soft rustle of the palms. I would lie in the hammock strung between two trees, gazing up at a sky so thick with stars it seemed as if the universe had emptied its pockets.
There was no light pollution here, nothing to obscure the brilliance of the Milky Way stretching across the heavens like a gauzy veil.
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