The building is low and unhurried: cut stone, dark olive timber, deep verandas built to hold shade. Forty-six rooms and suites are set back around a walled garden, so that almost every door opens onto grass rather than a corridor. Nothing here is more than two storeys tall, because nothing should compete with what is behind it.
It is a working address as much as a hotel. The kitchen buys from the farms you pass on the way in. Dogs are welcome and children are expected. A car will meet you at the airstrip if you would rather not drive. And the same team has been here long enough to remember how you take your coffee.
