For many years I had fantasised about escaping the British winter to spend December on a white, tropical beach on a gorgeous remote island in some far-flung corner of the world. The Caribbean, Bermuda, South Pacific… any would have done, but I finally found my slice of paradise in the Seychelles when my dream came true last year, though not quite in the way I had envisaged.
I certainly hadn't planned to wake up – on the cusp of 39 – in a mixed-sex dorm with three guys with flatulence, and the prospect of having to cook porridge for 26 people by 6.30am.
Still, a topaz hoop of ocean cradled by the steep, forested slopes of the Matoopa peninsula as well as a beautiful coastal habitat full of endangered flora and fauna may have lay on my doorstep, but I wasn't just here to relax among them. Instead, I was in this island idyll on a volunteer project.
I had been feeling burnt out from work and wanted to flee winter and learn new skills. Volunteer projects seemed a good option for a grown-up backpacker. Narrowing my search criteria to marine research helped cut down the thousands of options out there, but I was still left with a huge range of countries, from Australia to Zanzibar, in which I could help sustain a blue planet.
In the end I plumped for a project organised by Global Vision International, an expedition company whose sustainable development credentials appeared to deliver. Five weeks' volunteering in such a beautiful place didn't scream hardship, and I would be able to go diving every day for five weeks for the same price as a week in a four-star resort.
The project was a response to a genuine need. Live coral was reduced by as much as 90% in some parts across the Seychelles' Inner Islands following the 1998 El Niño and with large-scale bleaching now a global concern our job was to comb a tract of reef to collect data for international scientific analysis. I would join a "coral recruitment" phase, noting abundance, diversity and health of juvenile corals to help determine the long-term impact of rising sea temperatures on the ecosystem.
The 40-minute transfer to GVI's base in north-west Mahé along a sliver of asphalt wedged between sparkling sea and giant jungle-clad granite boulders offered a hint of what was to come. Scalloped by pockets of sand and fringing reef, the winding road petered out at some iron gates. Mangrove swamps patrolled by giant crabs, the fizz of crickets and an "access denied" sign: that now meant home.
The former Seychelles Youth Village, a communist-style youth camp abandoned in the mid-90s, is now inhabited by a handful of rangers from the Seychelles Centre for Marine Research & Technology, who share their ramshackle base with blister bugs, fruit bats, giant crabs, nesting wasps – and, over the course of a year, about 100 GVI volunteers. Bar the occasional boat moored offshore, living on the doorstep of a strictly protected marine ecosystem means exclusivity for volunteers – in effect our own piece of paradise.
Living quarters occupied two main blocks of the former camp – "classrooms" on the ground floor; mixed dorms (cement floor, corrugated iron roof) up top. In a mixed bag of Singaporeans, Australians, Canadians, Americans, British and various Europeans, I found myself a mosquito net away from a 45-year-old Essex policeman on extended leave and a stroppy 18-year-old from Kent. Our disparate bunch also included students on marine biology placements, redundant bankers, a Pinewood Studios pyrotechnics expert, a notary, some dive masters in training and a smattering of gap-year travellers.
Within 24 hours of arrival, a military-base routine kicked in, governed by daylight hours, duty groups (Boat, Grounds, Kitchen, Tanks), Monday Camp Clean, Wednesday Weeklies (stores, data input, boat logs) and up to three research dives a day. Then there was the theory. With 52 coral types to master and a 95% pass rate to achieve, we set out on the path to coral geekdom. We lived and breathed coral, not just under water but also on camp, where we bonded over flash cards of "cat sick" (montipora), "Nik Naks" (psammocora) and, a personal favourite, "Dougal" (herpolitha), which truly resembles something from The Magic Roundabout.
Turtle walks and community work with a local school offered a mid-week "escape" from base. With the nearest bus stop a 35-minute schlep away, trips out were limited to the weekend. Occasionally we walked to a nearby waterfall or hired cars and explored the island's beaches, but mostly we bounced along for an hour on the packed local bus to Mahé's tiny capital, Victoria, or on to Beau Vallon beach, in search of cappuccinos, internet cafes, decent food and a bit of local colour.
Most nights I was fast asleep by 9pm. Projects included making a rainwater collector, mapping the grounds and extending the veggie garden. We filled and carried our own tanks to the dive boat – at low tide that could mean a kilometre's wade through a rug of seagrass in 32C (90F) heat. Enrolment required a Padi Open Water certificate, which I had, but my 30-plus dives straddled two decades and there had been a five-year hiatus prior to my first Seychelles dive. I had to get up to speed, fast.
If there were downsides, it was the seemingly endless chores: "If I'd wanted to learn how to use a broom and mop I'd have gone to scout camp," mumbled Bathonian Kev. And the food. A tight budget in a very expensive country meant a slim menu of basic and tinned ingredients (porridge, lentils, bread and tinned tomatoes were staples) not helped by a kitchen featuring two hot plates and a semi-functioning oven. Spirits nose-dived after personal food stashes were plundered by some of the volunteers (we never found out who was responsible).
But the experience was overall, incredible. I stretched myself beyond my wildest imagination. I learnt to operate a dive compressor and smash a coconut husk on a metal spike to open it. I've got new friends in Zurich, Amsterdam, Berlin and Brighton. I know a mushroom coral from a fungiidae and a stichopus from a sea cucumber and my enjoyment of diving has increased 10-fold.
Our data will be published in the Status of Coral Reefs of the World. Over 10 weeks we surveyed hundreds of square metres of reef. We logged 116 turtles, 47 dolphins, 10 octopus, one whale shark and 211 incidental sightings including guitar sharks, sailfish, devil rays, puffer fish and Humphead wrasse …
According to dive project manager Mario there were also two known cases of underwater sex (a pair of turtles being one), one missing eyebrow and 14 incidences of skipping base without telling anyone you were "giving yourself the day off". Some days were tough but if there's one thing my backpacker days taught me, it's that there's a carefree parallel universe out there whose only entry requirements are a sabbatical and a sense of adventure.
• Global Vision International (01727 250250; gvi.co.uk) offers five- and 10-week placements on its Marine Conservation in the Seychelles programme for £1,745 and £2,745 respectively, with monthly departures. Price includes accommodation, meals, diving and airport transfers. Flights to Mahé with Air Seychelles cost from £611 (airseychelles.co.uk).
Volunteering: What are the options?
First, decide what you want – full-time involvement in a serious project or a holiday with a bit of volunteering on the side – so-called "voluntourism".
You also need to decide how much you want to spend as, paradoxically, volunteering can be pricey. It's really important to get to the bottom of how your money will be used – ask lots of questions and be wary if the answers are vague. A lot of companies offering volunteer projects actually make huge profits, and the Guardian has received feedback from volunteers who find that once they reach their placement, it becomes clear that little of their money is getting through to the scheme.
It is likely that you could find volunteer work independently anywhere, by approaching local charities, schools and churches in advance, or when you arrive. The big organisations and charities argue that this means you forgo the extra support, training, accommodation and transport they usually provide, so consider what suits you best.
Independent volunteering
As well as using your common sense and asking around, researching online and asking travellers' online forums (tinyurl.com/2anfo6m), a few organisations can help. Volunteer South America (volunteersouthamerica.net) has a list of projects; volunteerabroadfree.com and truetravellers.org have links to advice; ecoteer.com and independentvolunteer.org have free and lower-priced placement links.
Volunteering with a charity
There are lots of options, but UK-based Raleigh International (raleighinternational.org) has five- or 10-week expeditions to Borneo, Costa Rica, Nicaragua and India. The company encourages volunteers to fundraise the cost of their expedition – the target for a supervisor is £1,950 for a 10-week project, plus flights. Village-to-Village (village-to-village.org.uk) is a small charity offering one- to 24-week placements in rural Tanzania. A 12-week stay costs £1,750 including transfers, accommodation and most meals, but not flights. Voluntary Service Overseas (vso.org.uk) has placements lasting six months to two years for professionals with at least two years' relevant work experience.
Voluntourism
The Year Out Group (yearoutgroup.org) is an umbrella association for more than 35 gap year organisations. Also try gapyear.com, wwv.org.uk and ecoteer.com. Popular companies include I-to-I (i-to-i.com), Real Gap (realgap.co.uk) and Hands up Holidays (handsupholidays.com). Trips with Real Gap, for example, cost from £499 to £1,499 for between two and 12 weeks. Experience Mexico (experiencemexico.co.uk) has teaching English and wildlife conservation projects from £2,500 for three months including flights, accommodation, travel, insurance and food allowance.