Parohe Island Retreat review: What it’s like staying on Kawau Island

Bound by our exhaustion, we sit on a tiny boat as it skips over the water, heading towards Kawau Island. The remoteness is arguably part of Parohe’s appeal, yet I’m surprised by how accessible the island actually is.

After driving one hour from Auckland to Sandspit Wharf’s free carpark, it’s a 45-minute boat ride directly to Parohe’s private jetty.

It will be the shortest journey I’ve taken to a retreat but our group agree there is something about crossing the ocean that makes the distance double, triple, stretch out far between our lives back home.

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After puttering into Bon Accord Harbour we hop onto the wooden jetty and receive an enthusiastic hug from Vicki, Parohe’s on-site manager who moved to Kawau last summer when she started the job.

Unlike typical wellness industry folk (linen-clad, unnervingly serene) Vicki is bold and bright in personality and wardrobe, with pink gel nails and a vibrant maxi dress. Her fiance Glyn looks the part of a builder (a previous job) in a worn button-up shirt, denim jeans, and black boots.

Introductions made and bags collected by Glyn, we amble towards the bush-cloaked mountains, past a tiny beach laden with paddleboards and kayaks and a field set up for volleyball, croquet, and archery.

At first, it seems the only building on the 22ha property is a red-roofed ‘honeymoon cottage’ built in 1869 and fully restored until Vicki points out two wooden cabins hidden between the trees. Accommodation is a medley of options including the cottage, 10 sleek wooden cabins by the beach or in the forest, three rustic cabanas or a palatial hilltop villa.

Through the forest, we reach “Enchantment”, a one-storey villa with a large patio that wraps around a little studio and a breakfast bar set beside a large window into the humble kitchen.

A worn wooden vanity holds a pile of dog-eared cookbooks, and several cushioned chairs are scattered around the patio, covered in cosy neutral throws.

To the left, a line of roughly cut manuka sticks fences a little veggie garden full of kale, fennel, and at least a dozen bushes of rosemary and mint around a tiny greenhouse. Beyond the villa, Vicki shows us two small wooden buildings that hold a sauna and massage room beside two outdoor baths literally surrounded by lush forest.

It’s not just the decor that is warm and homey. From the first hug on the dock, Vicki and Glyn are instantly different from the aloof hotel managers or wellness boot camp taskmasters I’m accustomed to.

Instead, they feel like old friends who are thrilled you’ve come to visit their little patch of paradise – a hunch confirmed when Glyn tells me they feel like their family expands with every retreat.

Their familial disposition suits Parohe, which is less about regimented schedules and rigid structures and instead about providing a place where people can pursue their idea of wellness, whatever that looks like.

For me, it’s luxurious massages and sweaty sauna sessions, yoga classes, and spending hours reading novels in the sun or journaling to the sound of birdsong.

For Lynn, a social butterfly, it’s lively conversations with new friends and leisurely walks around the native forest trails, while Alex, American Alex, and my husband, delight in kayaking around the mangroves, stand-up paddleboarding, using the Flintstones’ forest gym and practicing archery.

As a lover of timetables and itineraries, the level of autonomy is, initially, disorienting. If left to my own devices, surely I won’t make the most of the activities; won’t plan the time to ensure optimal relaxation (a ridiculous but genuine concern).

Thankfully, our group quickly falls into a little routine that begins with morning vinyasa flow on the jetty or a wooden pavilion in the forest, then breakfast together.

From the coconut mango chia puddings and coconut pancakes to the hearty chickpea curry and vegan chocolate torte, every meal hits that perfect balance of being packed with nutrient-dense whole foods without tasting like it.

Vicki gushes about the meals coming up at lunch or dinner and happily makes adjustments for those who need extra kai (American Alex) or can’t stand a certain ingredient. Glyn is a weapon on the espresso coffee machine and has everyone’s orders memorised by the second day.

Lazing around the dinner table on Saturday night, we find a pack of cards and play a few rounds of “500″ while nibbling on peanut butter chocolate balls Vicki made from scratch.

Light and warm well into 8pm, it truly feels like those unbeatable weekends at a bach with friends. Except here, I am free from the exhausting logistics required to make such weekends happen, from meal planning and supermarket shops to cooking, laundry, or dishes.

Even better, as part of the ‘Relax’ retreat, a yoga teacher and massage therapist are on-site for the weekends and offer as many classes or massages as we’d like. Since the latter costs extra, I restrain myself to one 50-minute massage that firmly wrings the remaining tension from my stubborn muscles, leaving me tea-tree-scented and sleepy.

Eager to continue assaulting my body with as much relaxation as possible, I slip straight into the petite sauna next door and force myself to sit in 80-degree heat, watching beads of sweat swell and drip down my skin.

As for yoga, we eagerly plan four classes with the teacher: two vinyasa classes held on a wooden platform built amongst the forest one morning and out on the wharf looking across the water on the other.

At night, we head to a wooden cabin a little way up the hill for slow and tender candle-lit yin classes, which deliver us back into the night half-asleep and ready to tumble into bed.

White and unadorned, the bed is like the rest of the oceanside studio cabin: Scandinavian to the point of monastic. Two large sliding doors at the front of the cabin look right out across the water, while the other walls and floor are a classic blonde wood.

Aside from the bed, there is a set of built-in shelves (the bottom of which holds a picnic basket full of crockery, cups, and utensils), two unpolished wooden logs for bedside tables, and a small table with two chairs and a kettle.

To the left, a double-sink vanity with a hairdryer in the drawer sits below an unusually fancy mirror with several backlight settings, and plush white towels hang on a towel rack. Notably absent is a closet to hang clothes or a coffee-making apparatus, but it’s hardly a sacrifice for two days.

The toilet is behind a door, but unlike other cabins, the ocean-view room has an outdoor shower in a spacious wooden cubicle, which looks a little worn and requires spraying a few spiders away.

Yet, this is the reality of being in the real bush according to Vicki. “We’re not a concrete building on the mainland,” she says, referring to the little imperfections that come from being among the forest, whether it’s tea tree leaves in the outdoor bath or a cobweb by the outside shower.

It’s a worthwhile trade for the serenity I find at Parohe Retreat, where I spend an entire afternoon curled up on a wicker chair in front of the garden, alternating between reading, journaling, and simply daydreaming as the hours slowly melt by.

Parohe Island Retreat stays begin from $550 per person, per night for a shared room and will increase to $650 from March 31. For more details, including a schedule of 2025 retreats, visit parohe.co.nz.

Kawau Cruises runs regular trips from Sandspit Wharf to Parohe Retreat on Kawau Island. Tickets are $85 return for adults and $50 return for 5-15 year olds.