There is no set route, no program of events, not even the hint of a dress code – just a sailing boat, a breeze and the Seychelles’ spectacular scenery unspooling around us. As the sail catches the wind and the Spirit of Ponant slips into a tangerine sunset, everything feels delightfully unscripted. I stretch out on the yacht’s trampoline netting at the prow, champagne in hand, listening to the sea fizz past while the sky lights up in shades of red.

Earlier, we had anchored just off tiny Ile Cocos, all film-set drama, with granite boulders seemingly sculpted by giants flanking a sliver of sand. Sinking into the water with our snorkels, we happened upon a hawksbill turtle suspended in the turquoise stillness.