Stretched out like a satin sheet the colour of finely polished sapphire, the ocean gently nudges the craggy, volcanic peaks and tiny, rainforest-draped coral islands of Gizo, located in the northwest of the Solomon Islands. Our boat glides towards a cluster of islets that appear weighed down by coconut palms when a glistening grey fin appears beside us. Then another and then about a dozen more. Within moments, we’re encircled by a pod of frolicking dolphins, arching and spearing out of the water, then gleefully plunging back in, mere metres away from us.

As we leap in, a group of about five dolphins, almost close enough for me to reach out and touch, play beside me, whirling, swirling, then vanishing. We spend several awestruck hours snorkelling over a reef of almost implausible intricacy, beguiled by explosions of colour that resemble underwater fireworks. Lunch is laid out on the sliver of beach, shaded by giant glossy leaves. The heady sense of isolation is as privileged as it is glorious. For almost an entire day, we’ve savoured our own little slice of island heaven, which is typical of what the Solomon Islands has to offer.

Wild and untarnished

You don’t often see the Solomon Islands brandished across glossy travel brochures, an oversight that belies this archipelago’s beauty and proximity to Australia. It’s also partly what makes it so special. I was tired of the formulaic resort scene and longed for a palm–studded getaway that’s unique, imbued with a strong sense of place and where the culture hasn’t been bleached by globalisation. The Solomon Islands fulfilled my every desire — and more.

I knew I was in for something special as soon as the small jet reached the gem–coloured lagoons and innumerable islands, located just over 2000km from the east coast of Australia. Apart from the occasional leaf house on stilts, or a solitary canoe, I couldn’t make out any signs of human meddling.

There are fewer than 550,000 people in the Solomon Islands and they’re splashed across more than 900 islands, many of them uninhabited. Roads are a rarity and they’re most likely untarred. Melanesians, a people known for their gentle, friendly attitude, make up 95 per cent of the population. Despite the prevalence of Christianity, traditional life thrives in the Solomons. While English is the official language, the islands are home to more than 120 indigenous Melanesian languages, with most Islanders speaking a local dialect.

A person’s identity is intractably tied up with their birthplace and every Melanesian has a duty to their fellow wantoks (“one talk” in Pidgin), which serve as a social safety net, providing housing, food and a share in community assets as well as a sense of belonging. Villages are presided over by elected chiefs and gift–giving is a formalised way to cement relations.

The local economy, especially on the outer islands, is largely subsistence-based, with bourse conducted by barter. Shell money, which is sold at Honiara’s market (alongside shell jewellery and stone carvings), is still a revered, widely used form of currency, especially as a compensation payment or bride–price. Land is still held on a family or village basis, and on most islands is passed down by female family members. Traditional island life is rich with ritual and spiritual connotations. For instance, a dead person’s spirit is believed to reside in the body of sharks, birds and reptiles, which has resulted in many animals being tabu (forbidden) to eat.