Where is this new $50m island resort in Australia? You will never guess
The lair of a James Bond villain springs to mind when arriving at this luxury property and it does not disappoint.
Wendy has command of the northern end of Louth Island, observing from her eyrie a vast murmuration of starlings sweeping across the moody bay. We occupy the island’s southern quadrant, with Cape Barren geese, rock parrots, goannas, and on occasion, little penguins that haul ashore on the beach in front of the new Rumi resort for a rest.
This 180ha privately owned island on South Australia’s wild west coast is pure Famous Five, offering many adventurous possibilities: fishing, sailing, kayaking, cage diving with great whites. But for the birds, including Wendy, a wedge-tailed eagle named after Rumi manager Jane Kelly’s mother, feral-free Louth is a place of safety.
A sheep farm since the mid 19th century with a sideline in mining guano, Louth is only 10 minutes from the Eyre Peninsula and about 17km north of Port Lincoln, Australia’s seafood capital. From the island’s picturesque shores, we can spy kingfish and mussel farms, and in the far distance bluefin tuna pens. Over three days we subsist almost entirely on spanking fresh seafood caught within cooee of our smart upstairs apartment.
West Coast born and bred resort chef Jono makes the most of the bounty, dishing up King George whiting dressed in a yuzu beurre blanc; plump Spencer Gulf prawns seared in kelp butter; kingfish crudo with beach mustard flowers, foraged nearby, and a samphire sauce, also island sourced. It’s a step up from the usual Famous Five fare of tongue sandwiches and hard-boiled eggs.
But let’s begin with our arrival to this magical little island. After touching down at Port Lincoln’s compact airport, a black Mercedes van is waiting to whisk us to the seashore. There we meet Darren, who helps us clamber aboard an amphibious Sealegs craft that proceeds to drive straight into the sea. Vehicle becomes boat and we speed to Louth before driving ashore and across the beach to offload at the front door of a grey timber-clad building.
The island lair of a James Bond villain springs to mind, but we are not to be fed to the great whites for which the seas off the Eyre are famous (Jaws underwater scenes were filmed in the region). Instead, we are enjoying the off-grid luxury of stage one of a $50m eco resort, Rumi on Louth, passion project for Che Metcalfe, entrepreneur and co-founder of the Uniti Group telecommunications infrastructure company.
Much of the heavy lifting for the project has been done. The sheep are gone, and an enormous solar farm and battery bank is tucked out of sight in the centre of the island. This, in turn, powers a desalination plant, making the resort fully self-sufficient. Staff accommodation has been built, and at this stage there are four guest suites and one apartment, housed upstairs in the main lodge building, alongside a chic restaurant, bar and al fresco dining area with a Mediterranean vibe (terrazzo floors, pale rendered walls, rattan chairs). Given Metcalfe’s background, the tech is impressive; giant TV screens are everywhere and he’s personally tuned the elaborate in-room NAD sound systems.
Later this year Rumi plans to add the first of 27 private villas, and in 2025 a second restaurant and day spa. Architectural plans show sleek, contemporary retreats submerged in the landscape like haute hobbit holes. Each will have an outdoor jacuzzi, fire pit, private buggy and e-bikes. The villas have been designed with a small footprint as the island team continues a revegetation and rehabilitation program. About 40,000 large African boxthorn weeds have been dug by hand, a painstaking and very prickly job.
Local lad and wildlife enthusiast Tyler is giving us a tour of the island. Like Narnia, it seems to open ever wider, revealing changing landscapes and several lovely beaches. It’s also a handy pantry for Jono; samphire berries garnish cocktails, saltbush flavours the addictive house-made crisps. As we scoot along in our electric buggies flocks of quails rise from rustling grasses, almost faster than the eye can clock. Cape Barren geese are more relaxed, strolling about as they tend to nesting sites. At the southern tip of the island, dubbed Pelican Point, a squadron of the big birds stages a fly-by as though cued by Tyler, who is compiling a list of feathered locals for guests (latest addition, bush stone-curlews).
From here we can see mainland Lincoln National Park and to the south Rabbit Island, nesting site for little penguins. Matthew Flinders mapped this coast in 1802, with an eight-man landing party mysteriously vanishing in Memory Cove, but French explorer Nicolas Baudin made his own charts. I much prefer the French names that might have been this region’s European nomenclature; not Rabbit Island but Ile Raynal (named for an explorer and where, according to local legend, Baudin released several floppy-eared bunnies); not Spencer Gulf but Golfe Bonaparte.
The vast Eyre coastline still feels incredibly remote (Port Lincoln is eight hours by road from Adelaide) and so sparsely populated, the beautiful, wild beaches are always empty. And tonight, we have the island to ourselves. After dinner all the staff (excluding the night manager) jump aboard a Sealegs and head back to the mainland. From our upstairs window we wave them farewell as they drive into the sea. It’s the perfect set up for an Agatha Christie novel, but it’s a system that bodes well for resort management. Convincing staff to live on an island can be challenging. On Louth, the local crew can head home to Port Lincoln every evening.
The next day an amusing troop of little hooded plovers is skipping about the seaweed on the beach in front of the lodge, tiny legs pumping like the world’s smallest pistons. The team has set up a posh picnic complete with knee rugs, linen napkins, wine and a speaker for our tunes. We listen to the sea instead, away with the birds, while plates of wagyu skewers, prawns and kingfish are ferried from the kitchen.
After lunch we borrow one of the electric buggies to explore on our own, following a narrow track to the pretty Carls Cove, a white sand beach lapped by peerless blue waters. Tyler has set up deck chairs, refreshments and gear in case we fancy a spot of fishing. We carry on to the northern end of the island and some heavily vegetated dunes; the perfect place to watch for sealions, dolphins and migrating whales. Another option is the glamorous catamaran Odyssey where Sealegs Darren is back at the wheel, and as a third-generation West Coast fisherman, providing insightful commentary.
In our apartment Shantal has set up a table for the best massage I’ve had in yonks. She’ll be running the resort’s day spa when it opens next year. If our apartment is anything to go by, the new villas will be seriously smart.
We have floor-to-ceiling windows with views across the bay, a humungous TV with cinema sound and a little kitchen. There’s another giant screen in the king bedroom and lots of luxury detailing, including a Dyson hairdryer, LED backlit bathroom mirror, Barossa-made amenities and super-soft robes. Breakfast is a la carte (have the chilli crab scrambled eggs) and dinner is served in the conservatory-style dining room with huge wood-fired oven. Locally roasted coffee starts at 7am, and dinner can be early if you wish.
We do. After all that bracing sea air we are to bed with the birds, Wendy in her twiggy penthouse, the plovers tucked on to the sandy ground floor. All of us listening for the plaintiff call of the curlew and hoping the little penguins on Rabbit Island are snug in their burrows.
In the know
Rumi on Louth’s Reveal suites are from $2000 a night, twin-share, including transfers, daily replenished in-suite bar, dinner, breakfast, select beverages and sightseeing.
Christine McCabe was a guest of Rumi on Louth.
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