WE’VE SEEN most of THE MAP,
and every beautiful place CAME WITH OTHER PEOPLE in it.
SO WE CHOSE nowhere,
ALL TO OURSELVES.
ALL TO OURSELVES.
A private jet to Mahé, then a helicopter for the last stretch — out to an island in the outer atolls with nobody on it but us. On day two the yacht slips out to an untouched reef, and lunch is laid on our own sandbank in the middle of the ocean.
A helicopter hop to a second island, wilder than the first. A path has been cut through its jungle just for the two of us, and giant tortoises own the shade beside it. Day four we’re back on the water — first under it, through April’s glass-clear reefs, and then at a table on a beach where the only footprints are ours.
The last evening belongs to the island. A single table waits on the sand, and lanterns burn the whole way down the beach. Dinner is just us — the island is holding nobody else. Our first adventure begins exactly the way we intend it to continue.
Please don’t bring us anything. We mean it — your being at the wedding is the gift, and we have two of everything else.
But if what you just read made you smile, there are two ways to be part of it. Leave us your wishes for the road — words travel light, and we’ll carry them all five days. Or put something toward the adventure itself. It comes straight to us, and it becomes exactly what you just saw.
Either way, when we’re back, a postcard from the trip will find you — with your name on it.
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