NIHI Sumba first sailed across my horizon a couple of years ago, when my friend took his family to Indonesia.
His plan was to surf and foil with one of his sons, while his wife was going to practice yoga and ride horses on the beach with their two older children. When he returned, he sent me a video that opens with him walking from their villa’s bedroom out to the balcony, high on a steep hill amid dense vegetation and palm trees, above the Indian Ocean and the resort’s other buildings. Every roof is thatched, with an abrupt peak in the traditional Sumbanese uma mbatangu style. The sun on the water sparkles gemstone colors: lapis, aquamarine, emerald. The beach glitters gold and seems to extend forever, interrupted only by monolithic surf-hewn boulders. Beyond Nihi, no other manmade structures appear. The abutting forest seems impenetrable
I’m no surfer, and my only time attempting to foil was on a contraption called a Flitescooter that would rise from the surface, then pop a wheelie and fling me into the water. But the foiling segments of my friend’s video capture Nihi’s true magic. As I watched him glide like a seabird before rolling waves, Sumba’s remote beauty seemed to expand. Aside from the jetski that towed them out, the ocean lay completely empty. Not one boat. Utter deserted paradise I had only read or dreamed about. And when I observed my friend’s 17-year-old son progress from a fledging who could barely stay aloft to an adept foiler, I saw how Nihi could be absolute perfection for a family’s bucket-list vacation.
Turns out, this was the intent of Nihi’s founders. Claude Graves was a surfer who took his wife Petra on adventures all over the world. But she didn’t surf, and most of the rustic camps they stayed at offered little besides waves. After hitting a low point on a Philippines vacation in 1987, they endeavored to build their own resort, one that would delight them both—and by extension, similar couples or families.
In Sumba they discovered their ideal location: a remote, large, and undeveloped island (an hour’s flight from Bali) with an intact, traditional culture.
Also, a killer wave that breaks with mechanical precision on the reef just offshore. It took over ten years to build their Xanadu—and they liked it so much that they raised their children there.
Nihiwatu, as they originally dubbed it, opened in 2000 and developed a cult following buoyed by The Green Iguana, the Jack McCoy movie partially shot there. Featuring Australian surfer Mark Occhilupo, the movie highlighted Nihi’s private wave, known thereafter as Occy’s Left. The Graves’ dream was coming true. A decade in, they decided to amplify the luxe factor. Enter American entrepreneur Christopher Burch, who visited Nihiwatu, fell in love with Sumba, and agreed to buy the resort, not for profit, but to gift his children the “edge of wildness.” His plan worked, and his sons learned the ways of Occy’s Left, surfing it over the years with the likes of Tai “Buddha” Graham and Kelly Slater.
Burch partnered with hotelier James McBride and assumed ownership in 2012. They undertook a $30 million renovation, reopened as NIHI Sumba in 2015, and promptly won Travel + Leisure’s World’s Best Hotel award in 2016 and again in 2017. They also preserved Nihiwatu’s family roots. Claude and Petra Graves still maintain a villa on the island, and the Burch Family Foundation fiercely supports the Sumba Foundation, combatting the “burdens of poverty on the island” through programs for clean water, nutrition, education, and healthcare.
A true honeymoon destination and celebrity escape, the Nihi also appeals to guests other than families, but when my wife, Yupin, and I visited in June, it was fun to see children and their parents picnicking at the Lapopu Waterfall or riding sandalwood ponies along the beach (the resort owns 29 of these free-roaming horses). And despite Nihi’s abundant comforts, it maintains a personal, unassuming vibe. On our first night, the staff surprised us at the Nio Beach Restaurant with a special birthday dinner in a private beach grotto with candlelight and strings of hanging frangipani—even though my actual birthday had passed a week earlier. Another evening, we joined a storytelling event on sofas outside Ombak Restaurant, where Nihi’s cultural ambassador showed us the meanings of images on an ikat, Sumba’s traditional woven textile. Cocktail hour at the boathouse is another opportunity for guests and staff to mingle (and feast on sushi), and Wednesday night Sumba Foundation dinners bring everyone together to learn more of its work and about Sumbanese culture.
Sumba made us feel like explorers, and, if only for a few nights, Nihi made us feel like family, at home in a land lost in time.
