Review: North Island, Seychelles (2025 Edition)

Service recovery is one of the great marketing miracles.  Mess something up, then go out of your way to fix it, and statistically, people will love you more than if you’d just done it right in the first place.  Humans are weird.  So, hats off to North Island for pulling off the ultimate comeback move: six years of being under Marriott, where everyone gave up on them, lost faith, and forgot they even existed.  And now?  They’re back, baby.  It’s the prestige part of the magic trick.  Turns out the whole Marriott thing was just long-term, slow-burn, multi-year, 4D chess manoeuvre.  Legends.

This review’s going to be more basic than usual.  Mainly because it’s like reviewing a time capsule.  Coming back after five years — and having first visited nine years ago — it’s almost impressive how little has changed.  Yes, there’s a new GM, a new executive chef, and plenty of fresh faces on staff.  Beyond that, there’s honestly not much to update since my 2020 review.  Just fewer excuses, and more hope, now that Marriott have been told to fuck off.

“Eat shit, Marriott” – Monsieur Tortoise

Same ol’

After a 30-minute drive from Cheval Blanc Seychelles to the helipad, we boarded the chopper and, 15 minutes later, landed on North Island.  We were met by the GM in a t-shirt, shorts and flip-flops, and immediately, you know you’re not in the polished lands of Cheval Blanc anymore.  Personally, I approve.  I’m going to be disappointed at the next resort I go to, if the GM isn’t dressed like he was just washed up on the beach, after losing half his assets in a messy divorce.  We also saw Nicolas — the legend, the lifer, the constant, having been here the last 15 years.

And from that point on, nothing has changed.  The villas, the spa, the gym – they’re exactly as I left them years ago.  That rower in the gym is still there, mocking me with memories of the near-death cardio event of 2020, when I foolishly decided to try rowing for more than five seconds.  It’s been nine years of whispers about refurbishments, but the property seems to have missed the memo – and somehow, I’m okay with that.

Because the moment you step onto the island, you’re reminded of the magic.  That rare feeling that this isn’t just a resort, it’s your island.  The sheer beauty of it.  The emptiness.  The peace.  The sense of adventure.  That gorgeous, vast beach that stretches as far as you can see.  The endless, friendly giant tortoises, as much a feature as the staff.  The wind that actually makes the heat feel bearable.  Not always, let’s not get carried away, but occasionally you find yourself not having to change your clothes every fifteen minutes.  The whole island feels like it was conjured from the wet dream of an eco-warrior that was cross-bred with an exhibitionist.

It’s absolutely stunning.  You feel it in the adventure of exploring the island’s trails, in the emptiness of a place where you can legitimately get lost, in the way every villa faces the beach but still feels cocooned in privacy thanks to the natural elevation.  Some are closer to the sand, some tucked further in, but all give that same feeling of space and solitude.

And then there’s that pool — still one of my all-time favourites.  You could float there for hours, staring out at the Indian Ocean, pretending time doesn’t exist and mosquitoes don’t either.  They do.  In full force.  But somehow, even they can’t ruin it.

Activities?  Sure.  You can plant a tree, go hiking, chase tortoises around, fishing, diving, whatever it is that people do in the ocean (I’m still getting over Jaws from 30 years ago), or watch the sun set over West Beach, chatting to other guests like this life is perfectly normal.  There’s plenty we didn’t do — mostly because we were too relaxed to move.

And why are we relaxed?  Because, North Island is surprisingly child-friendly.  Not because of some pimped out kids club — the play area is barely passable as entertainment, the arts and crafts zone is… covered — but because the staff are just genuinely brilliant with kids.  The team engage, entertain, and somehow manage to make our children feel independent and safe without you ever needing to ask for help.  Ours were off feeding tortoises, swimming, beach-combing, and generally living their best lives — while we actually got to relax.  It’s proof that you don’t need a high-spec kids club.  You just need good people.  No, great people.

So yes, it’s the same old North Island.  But in all the best ways.  Still wild.  Still weirdly wonderful.  Still unforgettable.

For Me, For You

Recommending the food here is always a gamble.  Chefs come and go so often, the kitchen might as well have a revolving door and a guestbook.  But the early signs were promising.  The new executive chef had only been in post for three weeks, having previously worked with the GM at Sugar Beach in St. Lucia.  The food was great,  including a ceviche and a wagyu dish (separate plates, thankfully).  Bonus points for the breakfast menu offering sorbet and ice cream spread.  I fully endorse this decision.

The meals, however, are glacially paced.  The kind of slow where you start to question whether they’ve had to breed, grow and catch the fish since you ordered it.  The menu is small, and while they’ll technically make anything for you, I’ve never loved the whole “whatever you want, whenever you want” thing.  It sounds luxurious until you realise it means no one actually knows what’s on offer.  Just give me a menu.  Also: the chairs.  They seemed to have forgotten people have spines.

You get a dedicated butler, and now they also serve you in the restaurants, which I like.  It adds a layer of consistency, especially when it comes to preferences.  The GM is extremely hands-on, and the staff genuinely go above and beyond.  Toys magically appear at the beach, crafts materialise out of thin air, and somehow every staff member knows your child’s name, their preferred snack, and which tortoise they’ve emotionally bonded with.

Our butler, Moses, wasn’t the best we’ve ever had, but he cared, he was present, and he was excellent with the kids.  And honestly, that counts for more than someone who folds towels into endangered species.

As if to represent how nothing changes, Kiki is back – my butler from 2016.  Love that guy.  Sadly, he was looking after another family, the traitor.

Dear Mr. Owner

I started wondering what the point of this review even was, if I was just going to repeat everything I said last time.  Then it hit me: this isn’t for the guests.  It’s not for the curious browsers or potential customers.  This one’s for the owner.

You listened to a bunch of clowns who told you to go with Marriott.  Now try listening to a different clown.  Sure, I write nonsense for a living, but that still makes me more qualified than the idiots who thought slapping a loyalty program on this island was going to end well. What were they thinking? It was like Rolex doing a Happy Meal collab.  Or Marlboro sponsoring the children’s lung cancer ward.

I would have paid to sit in the room when someone said, “Marriott’s the answer.” But even more than that, I’d have loved a front-row seat at the meeting when everyone got fired.  That must’ve been a hell of a PowerPoint.

Anyway, onto my point.

Dude.  We’re basically family at this point. You could say we’re more than family, as I’ve stayed four times in nine years, whilst I make sure to only see my family once a decade.  In many ways, it was staying on this island — chatting photography with the then-resort manager — that nudged me into documenting my travels.  North Island is ground zero for Dorsia Travel.  It has a special place in my heart, too.

I get it.  You see this place like a child, one you love unconditionally, exactly as they are.  But this child has now spent the last nine years on the sofa, getting progressively lazier and fatter, and at some point, the adults need to step in.  So hear me out.

Fregate is coming.  Cheval Blanc Seychelles is already here.  And there’s more on the way.  Shit’s about to get real.  Investment is needed.  It cannot wait.

Here’s your fix list.  No need to tip your server today; this is all free.  Better, it’s simple.  You’ve already terminated Marriott and killing off the turd existing rate options, so you’re on a winning streak.  Why not continue whilst you’re on a roll?

Upgrade the air conditioning in the bedroom.

Enclose the toilets — and while you’re at it, air condition them too, so guests aren’t left sweating and swatting simultaneously.  I’ll even be generous and let you skip the Toto installation.  But bonus points if you do it.

But if there’s one thing they could do tomorrow that would instantly earn forgiveness for the rest, it’s fixing the mosquito situation.  The Brando used genetically modified, infertile mosquitoes.  Soneva Fushi has some sort of eco-traps (what is that?  A thousand venus flytraps and someone whispering “Namaste” at the bugs).  North Island now needs to join the mosquito arms race.  Because I can handle the rustic look and open feel, without the murder insects around.  I don’t like being outside, thinking what part of my body is the next meal.  Or taking a dump and getting a colonoscopy from a mosquito.

Do all that, and you’ll get yourself a 4.5-star rating from me.  Shut it down for six months, rebuild the villas, and you’re getting a five-star rating.  C’mon, that’s really what keeps you going, isn’t it?  Endless love from a blogger.  Because even now, rough edges and all, it’s one of the most extraordinary places on Earth.  And I say that as someone who’s been bitten in places I didn’t think mosquitoes could reach.

The Good

• Food
• Service
• Kids friendly
• Brilliant activities

The Bad

• Mosquitos
• Dated villas

The Luxurious

• Incredibly exclusive
• Gorgeous setting
• World-class hospitality

Conclusion

I recently wrote about Velaa and how you’re not really paying for the room — you’re paying for everything else, and the room just happens to come with it.  Try explaining that to someone looking at the nightly rate and wondering if the bed is made of diamonds.  But just because that’s true doesn’t mean the room should look like it’s been constructed by Robinson Crusoe during an emo phase.

There is something genuinely special about North Island — a certain intangible magic.  But it’s a magic currently wrapped in a hard product that hasn’t kept up.  Yes, I’ve heard the same whispers over and over again: new things coming, a revamp on the horizon, it’s all going to be wonderful soon.  Heard it all before.  But here’s the genuinely good news: Marriott are out; asmallworld are gone.  The bizarre “Dream Rates” and the confusing full board-but-not-always are on their way out, too.  We’re slowly returning to a pre-2019 model that made far more sense, where generosity is, hopefully, embraced, rather than sneered at by an accountant whose only joy in life is making your life as miserable as his.

Marriott was never a good fit.  But it’s also not entirely Marriott’s fault.  A place like this should never require caveats or justifications — not at this price point, not with this potential.  It could appeal to so many more people with some minor changes, although big ones would be appreciated too.  Soneva Secret has shown what barefoot luxury should look like in 2025.  I don’t want to recommend a place this special with caveats.  I want to say, “Go.  No hesitation.” Give it a bit of love, a tiny bit of investment, and North Island isn’t just a good option.  It’s the obvious one.

Even North Island’s most loyal fans will admit the villas are overdue for a revamp.  But they’ll also say — rightly — that there’s still nowhere else quite like it.  Fregate might change that, but for now, if you’re comfortable with the high cost and the imperfections, it’s hard to think of anywhere else that’ll put a bigger smile on your face.