But in lieu of consistent regional planning, I found a number of flagship sustainable hotels that are leading the way. Each of them fits into its environment and economy differently: Some emphasize the environmental aspect, while others emphasize the social. All offer not only sustainability but truly spectacular, luxurious getaways.

The last time I had been on the road was months earlier, on assignment in Afghanistan, where the news was still mostly bad. By the time I hit Tiamo, I was looking for reassurance that humanity was not simply descending into fundamentalism, narco-trafficking, and war. My girlfriend, affectionately known as Smash, is a photojournalist; when she met me in the islands, she was coming straight from a grimy reporting stint in West Africa, where much of her time had been spent deep in the bush hearing tales of woe from impoverished agricultural laborers, or stopped at roadblocks negotiating bribes for passage at gunpoint. We both very much needed a vacation.

Our cabin was spacious, airy, and open, facing a stunning white sand beach and the blue-green waters of the bight. Elegantly crafted, with smooth wood floors and a screened-in exterior, the cabin had an inner sanctum of three white walls with wide doorways; in place of the fourth wall were plain cotton curtains. Instead of air-conditioning, there was a ceiling fan and a Caribbean breeze that pushed in to caress us. Far from overheating without AC, we found our nights at Tiamo cool enough for the huge bed and duvet to feel downright cozy. And we could run the fan guilt-free: The resort is one hundred percent solar powered. (Apart from the International Space Station, not many things meet that standard.)

On our first morning, we took snorkeling gear and two of Tiamo's sea kayaks out into the bight and paddled west along the coast to a tidal lagoon called the Crack, where we tied to a small buoy and waded in a quarter of a mile before starting to swim. Near the mouth of the lagoon, a wall of limestone appeared to block our passage, but a slightly eerie underwater tunnel—twelve feet long, sand bottomed, and inhabited by groupers—led us to the other side. There, the lagoon's sloping sand bottom was covered in beautiful upside-down jellyfish. Eventually, after one last ridge that came almost to the surface of the water, the ground fell away and a deep rocky trench—the Crack—opened below us. The water in this enclosure is too warm for coral but abounds with other life. Up and down it we swam, watching schools of small fish, the occasional large grouper, starfish, and other exotic and delicate creatures. At one point, Smash peeled off to follow a rare hawksbill sea turtle deep into the far side of the lagoon.

After paddling back to the resort, we ate sandwiches and then, when the wind rose, took out a small catamaran. I sat in the racing car–like hull while Smash spread out on the webbing between the hull and the outrigger. Three glorious hours slipped away as we tacked back and forth through the pale open waters of the channel. At first we talked, but slowly even that stopped until the only sound was the soft clap of water on the hull and the wind in our sail. By the time dinner was ready, we were sea soaked, sun kissed, and floating.