A unique destination in the South Pacific

The local fishermen have once again beaten the sun that is now rising quickly over the ocean. It's already hot on the beach where I stand peacefully watching them paddle in their traditional dugout canoes to their next spot.

I'm only witness to this beautiful scene because I was so rudely awoken just before dawn by the island's entire rooster population (who, at the time I fantasised about annihilating in one giant, delicious BBQ and am now grudgingly appreciative of!) there is white sand between my toes and I'm standing in my swimmers sipping a mug of boiling hot, syrupy sweet coffee. It's the best cup of coffee I can remember and that's no surprise, being local and organic straight from the mountain plantations that stand behind me on the island of Atauro.

I pop my mug in the sand and walk slowly into the crystal clear water in front of me. Perfection. Turquoise and 22degrees, with the sun rising on the horizon and my lunch being caught just 25 metres out in front of me.

Welcome to Paradise Lost

For me, the best types of holidays are those that force me to discover a destination for myself. Although it's much easier, I don't really like my hand to be held and my holidays to be spoon-fed through an arranged guide or to be on a path that has been worn by the feet of many a traveller before me.

I don't like set itineraries and designated activities. I like to be plunged into the deep end where I'm left to my own devices and I can still fancy myself a pioneer, where I need my sense of adventure to find the things I will do each day, the new people I will meet and new places to discover. I like when my adventures challenge me, and most of the time, (apart from the odd disaster!) I am richly rewarded with memories and experiences you won't find in guidebooks.

Which is why Atauro Island is like the ultimate destination for a traveller like me, because while it is 'Google-able' and mentioned in the rare guide book, it's still relatively undiscovered and I'm almost ready to lay the bet that you don't know a single person who has ever been there.

So why is this island paradise still relatively unknown, yet it's so close to our Australian shores? Because Atauro belongs to Asia's newest and poorest nation. A little country that has been wracked with violence and human suffering, a country that has had strong international peacekeeping troop presence for the last ten years. A little country that fought so hard for its freedom and Independence it lost a third of its population in the battle. It has hit the headlines one too many times for the wrong reasons and now everyone thinks of Timor-Leste (more commonly known as East Timor) as a dangerous and inhospitable place and certainly not a destination for adventure and relaxation tourism. Yet, to the brave who dare to put aside judgement and ignore what they've heard and step out to find out, it is actually the opposite. Now stable and safe, Timor-Leste is the newest and best kept travel secret in the Asia Pacific.

As our population creeps towards 7billion people who are increasingly on the move, it's becoming harder and harder to find remote holiday destinations - ones where you can truly relax and be yourself - stand on a beach in a saggy bum bikini with not a care in the world. It's a serious achievement to find a rewarding destination that is far enough away from the hawkers of tourism and the sleazy overcommercialisation that have recently taken over so many tropical paradises, far enough away that you lose cell phone reception but not so far away that you also lose the creature comforts vital for a relaxing retreat - good food, a shower and a clean bed!

Yet that, in a nutshell, is Atauro Island.

Atauro is just a 45minute boat ride off the coast of Timor-Leste's capital city of Dili. It's easy enough to find yourself on the weekly Saturday morning ferry but I prefer to hire out a small charter boat to go over on a day and at a time that suits me. May I suggest though, that, that time should be early in the morning when the ocean is calm, because having learnt the hard way by about 11am it becomes rather a rough, not to mention wet ride.

It is my second day and my first full morning on the island and over a light breakfast of fresh papaya and boiled eggs I try to decide what to make of my day in this secret paradise. Shall I hike into the mountains, through the lush tropical rainforest, up through the eucalypt forest to the grassy savannah at the top and be rewarded with the stunning view? Or should I start with another dip in the water but take my snorkel and mask this time to enjoy the abundance of fish and the colourful coral just offshore? That could be a nice preview for the scuba dive I have planned tomorrow. I could jump on the local transport (an old motorbike with a three wheel trailer attached) and visit the local villagers, try traditional handicraft basket weaving or play soccer with the kids. Or maybe I should just curl up on the veranda of my little thatch hut at the eco-resort and enjoy the gentle breeze, the sound of the waves lapping at the beach and the novel I bought at the airport.

I opt for a morning walk, which kills two birds with one stone as I stop in to say hello at a local village and end up the laughing stock of the children as I try to master the art of pushing an old tire along with a stick. Soon, it's their parents who start to giggle as I try to speak a few indecipherable words of the local language, Tetun. As a reward for my valiant efforts I am offered and accept a small (and disgusting) amount of the local betel-nut but after chewing for a few minutes, I can bear no more, spit it out and with a red smile and a wave to my audience, who are now in hysterics, I head for the hills.

I am quickly sweating and panting away but I am able to blame my apparent lack of fitness on the betel nut that has my heart pounding a little faster than usual! After a few hard hours I arrive at a spectacular outcrop, on one side I can see to a cluster of Indonesian islands surrounded by tiny black dots on the water that are trading fishermen and on the other side I can see the green mainland of Timor-Leste in the distance. I enjoy the fresh air for a little while but as soon as I see dark, heavy, tropical clouds gathering I set off home.

I arrive back to my eco-resort thatch hut hotel room just before the heavens open for the afternoon downpour. It buckets down as I sit on my veranda, kick off my shoes, enjoy the smell of the rain and welcome the refreshing cool that comes with it. I love this choice of accommodation by the way. My room is a two-storey thatch hut - on the lower level it is just an open veranda that makes the most of the shade that is created by the floor of my room upstairs. A bamboo stepladder bound together with twine leads up through a wooden trap door to my abode. My hut is simple, flimsy but absolutely perfect. A little bed shrouded with a mosquito net, a single light globe powered by a solar panel hanging from the pitched thatch roof, a wooden table and a lovely view through a shuttered window out to the beach. The resort (which is only 8 or so huts) is entirely eco-friendly and when you see how pristine and untouched this island is, you wouldn't have it any other way. While you sacrifice the swimming pools, floating bars and room service menus, the simplicity of it looks, feels and is authentic and fitting for this environment.

After just a few minutes the catch of the day is bought to me for lunch. Succulent white-fleshed fish, wrapped delicately in a banana leaf, and cooked to perfection and so mouth wateringly delicious it is actually beyond description. I eat far more than my fill -I can't help myself and leave nothing but bones on my plate.

I finish my day with a good book, a full tummy and some very welcome relaxation. Tomorrow I will head out to the reef to explore the depths of one of the biggest and most pristine marine parks in the world. It will be more a rarity for me NOT to see dolphins, dugongs, manta rays and even whales tomorrow