Saturday

It’s an old Caribbean adage, but cruising across Drake Passage from Beef Island Airport toward the exclusive British Virgin Island retreat of Peter Island, it rang true. Captain Flanders had turned to us a few seconds before and asked, “Have you ever been to Peter Island?” We smiled and shook our heads waiting for the playful repartee. “Man,” he sighed with a feint despair, “what took you so long?”

What did take us so long? After years of exploring the pleasure islands and holiday destinations of the Caribbean and Hawaii, we’d found a number of delightful villas and resorts among the 60 hilly islands and cays of the BVIs. The press on Peter Island had been around for a while?Cond? Nast had voted it in the top 20 islands in the world, and named it in the top places to stay?but we never go off buzz alone. But when our local sources said it was time for us to pay a visit to this luxurious retreat, we packed our carryons and grabbed our passports.

And when we arrived this afternoon and were immediately led to our Beach Front Villa instead of the registration desk in the open-air lobby, I was surprised and impressed. Our escort opened the French doors to the patio and a view of the beach and bowed graciously. “You may register here in your villa at your leisure.”

Sunday

Peter Island might be a private island resort, but it’s not small. In fact, it’s the fifth largest island among the Virgins and the island has five white-sand beaches and around 20 secluded coves, all accessed either by hiking the hilly road along the island’s spine or catching a van shuttle.

You can learn to windsurf at the Watersports Center on the beach, or take your snorkel and fins (which come with a mesh carrying bag that’s yours for the week) to explore the underwater wonders, including reefs and shipwrecks.

We rested up Saturday but enjoyed a dinner of grilled swordfish at Tradewinds (impressively served with German china, French silver and Italian crystal), the formal restaurant that has gorgeous views of Sir Francis Drake Channel and Tortola. Sunset brought a round of legendary landscapes?a proprietary concoction of MIDORI, mango and raspberry, and hopeful anticipation of the fabled Green Flash (no luck).

Monday

Time to explore. General Manager Sandra Grisham-Clothier, a former Ritz-Carlton woman, knew exactly what we wanted to see, the two most exclusive villa rentals on the island?the 3,626-square-foot Hawk’s Nest, and her 6,500-square-foot sibling, Crow’s Nest.

Hawk’s Nest is a three-bedroom traditional Caribbean villa with a peaked roof, big windows and a stunning hillside perch 150 feet above Deadman’s Bay. It’s comfort and luxury?each bedroom has a large bathroom and double Jacuzzi tub, and there is a media annex, a dipping pool and separate nanny quarters.

The Crow’s Nest is even more luxe with four spacious bedrooms and a spectacular panorama of the Virgin Islands. The architecture is Santa Barbara Coastal. Behind the massive wooden doors, each bedroom has a private entrance (and verandah) and the New World Mediterranean style flows throughout with a coffered ceiling, marble and wood accents, and a Marge Carson dining room set. The two pools, Sandra assured us, have both northern and southern exposure, and the villa rental includes a personal chauffeur, valet, chef, maid and grounds man.

Dinner was at Deadman’s Beach Bar and Grill right on the water and known for its “finger-lickin’-good” ribs. The food was fantastic, and even more enjoyable was the steel drum band and the crazy Jumby stilt walkers who appeared and entertained some young guests with their bumbling antics.

Tuesday

We earned some time at the spa (the Sea & Salt Island Scrub for Shawna and Bohio Massage for me) after borrowing a pair of mountain bikes and tackling the steep serpentine spine of the island to burn off banana French toast calories.

Later we arranged for a private visit to Cabey Point, considered the most secluded and romantic of the beaches (though we’ve since discovered that all have their own charm). Waiting for us on the sugary sands were two lounge chairs shaded by a thatched bure, a picnic lunch and some chilled Prosecco.

Friday

Captain Flanders had a sympathetic smile for us at the marina as our bags were loaded. “When are you coming back?” he asked as he nosed the Islander IV out into the channel and skirted a sailing regatta tacking the chop.

He knew the answer, but I said it anyway, because it made me feel better, and it was true. “Soon,” I said. “Very soon.”