Why the Cook Islands Are the Under-the-radar Tropical Holiday You Need

Less famous than its South Pacific cousins, the Cook Islands pushes tropical bliss to its languid limits.

After touching down on a strip of asphalt between jungled mountains and the Pacific Ocean, our jet taxis up to Rarotonga airport’s back door and deposits us directly into the terminal, where veteran entertainer Papatua strums his ukulele and sings songs of welcome. At passport control, immigration officials chat amiably about our holiday plans; bags arrive promptly on the single luggage belt and women in floral dresses and flower crowns greet every passenger before shepherding them to their respective hotel reps.

Of all the Pacific idylls I’ve visited – Fiji, French Polynesia, New Zealand and more – the Cook Islands is easily the most chill. Driving around Rarotonga (Raro), my only worry is whether clockwise or anti-clockwise would be quickest (and mind the chickens). There’s just one main road, a 45-minute circuit that connects everything the visitor might need, from lagoon cruises and $15 haircuts to 24/7 convenience stores and salvation (churches almost outnumber schools). If using the public bus, simply flag one down from wherever you’re standing. Easy as. I feel immediately relaxed, helped by the fact that I can’t get my SIM card to work so I’m forced to disconnect from the virtual world and be present in an actual paradise.

From Sydney it’s a six-hour direct flight north-east to Raro, the anchor of this 15-island archipelago moored in the Pacific. Imagine an elliptical blue clock face, about 3400 kilometres wide, with French Polynesia at three and Fiji at nine. The Cooks sit at five o’clock. We tend to lump all these countries into a convenient Pacific package, assuming they offer the same vacation vibes. While that’s true to some extent – the ivory shores, crystal seas and bowing palms are common to all – you won’t find Fiji’s ultra-luxe resorts and action-packed holidays here. And Tahiti is Manhattan in comparison.

“We are more authentic,” Nick Henry tells me over lunch (sashimi and ceviche-like ika mata, the national dish) at his resort, Tamanu Beach on Aitutaki island, a dazzling 50-minute flight from Raro. “We’re the Hawaii and Tahiti of 50 years ago.” Henry is the grandson of the islands’ first prime minister, Albert Henry, who took a punt on tourism in the 1960s to break the Cooks’ reliance on New Zealand. He’s just back from a trade-show trip to Europe, the next generation selling Pacific bliss to the stressed-out West.

Aitutaki is no hard sell. Its irresistible calling card is a vast ultramarine lagoon that it shares with more than a dozen other islets. Most accommodation, including Tamanu and my hotel, Pacific Resort Aitutaki, front this watery wonderworld where snorkellers face off with Picasso and unicorn fish, doe-eyed puffers and gaping morays. The Pacific has 29 beachfront bungalows, that lagoon, hectares of fragrant gardens and a split-level restaurant (order the poke bowl and the omakase sushi) that’s cantilevered spectacularly above an infinity pool. Life here is, in a word, languid. The island is so effortlessly friendly that locals wave whenever our cars pass on the narrow roads. “It’s not a gimmick,” says Te’Aumata Rairi, who’s recently returned home after years of living in Sydney. “It’s just the location and the culture. Everyone looks out for each other.”

Despite the ease of existence here, it would be a mistake to assume the islands are boring. On Aitutaki there are hikes, sunset cruises and all-day outings exploring spots such as tiny Tapuaetai (One Foot Island), a palm-studded spit of blinding white sand and translucent seas that’s enticed idlers for decades. Rarotonga offers lagoon adventures, cultural nights at hotels, jungle walks, village visits and fishing tours. Everything’s organic and just-caught so it’s hard to eat badly. Don't miss the yellowfin tuna burgers from Vibe food truck on Nikao Beach – you’ll never taste fresher. The fat fish sandwiches and tacos at The Mooring Fish Cafe in Muri have a similar just-off-the-boat appeal. And the plantation-style Tamarind House is the place for slightly fancy feasting on parrotfish, marlin and soothing ocean views. Lagoon-facing Muri is tourist central, home to resorts, eateries, activities and lively alfresco dining at the night markets (Tuesday to Thursday plus Sunday from 5pm). Food’s also the focus at Rarotonga’s main Saturday market at Punanga Nui (arrive early for grilled māroro flying fish), alongside art, clothing and souvenirs.

Drop by the Te Ara Museum, where director Stan Wolfgramm will likely personally show you exhibits charting the islands’ history, including the epic Polynesian migration that established ancestral lands from Hawaii to Rapa Nui (Easter Island). He can also recount, in eloquent detail, how islander culture survived the arrival of Christian missionaries. The people's timeless bonds with the land, ocean, birds, sky and wind endure, he says. “Those ties have kept us connected to our traditional values and beliefs. Our relationship to the ocean is like kin.”

I explore my own relationship with the ocean on a sea-scooter safari with Ariki Adventures. Gripping a handheld scooter the size of a hairdryer, I follow eager instructors into a watery passage at Vaimaanga, where I’m soon mobbed by green turtles (there are about 80 living in the area). They have zero fear and maximum curiosity, drifting beside or beneath me for minutes at a time, apparently as eager to hang with me as I am with them.

I’m staying on the island’s quieter south coast, known locally as “the countryside” despite being barely 20 minutes’ drive from anywhere. At Motu Beachfront Art Villas, owners Rose and John Dunn have furnished the 10 garden- and beach-facing villas with Pacific artworks against cool white interiors. There’s a pool with a bar and barbecue, plus kayaks or paddleboards for active guests. My bungalow sits above a luminous crescent of sand overlooking the impossibly blue Titikaveka Lagoon. When I’m not facedown in its coral waters, I’m lazing on the beach gazing at the sunrise, the sunset or the stars. Add a daily dose of turtles and that’s all I need from life.