You can spot a new arrival at Oman’s Zighy Bay. They’re the ones with a wild look in their eyes and windswept hair. And there’s a reason for that: guests arrive (or will arrive, it doesn’t officially open until April) not by taxi or limo, or anything so gauche as a helicopter, but by paragliding.

It’s a gimmick, of course, but there’s method in it. Those behind Zighy - Six Senses, which also has properties in Vietnam, Thailand and the Maldives - claim their clients demand more than barefoot eco-luxury. They want a dose of adrenaline on the side.

Personally, I’m inclined to pass on the adrenaline, but as the 007 element is central to the resort’s philosophy, I reluctantly booked in for a white-knuckle arrival onto Zighy’s mile-long sickle of biscuity beach. But the wind was obligingly blowing from the wrong direction. I did my best to look disappointed.

You can, if you must, get there by speedboat or 4WD, so I opted for the car, which proved stomach-flipping enough, given Zighy’s dramatic location on the Musandam peninsula: a pristine pocket of Oman marooned in the craggy northern tip of the United Arab Emirates, more than five hours from the sultanate’s capital, Muscat. It took 18 months to snake a road through these limestone outcrops and it makes the infamous hairpins of the Amalfi coast look like a kiddies’ playground slide.

At first glimpse, the resort is not inviting: grey, sprawling, stark and, for the next several months at least, spoilt by cranes, as it battles with geography to complete the last of the villas, a marina and a tennis court.

Through the studded wooden gates, however, it’s rugged and lovely. The architect’s brief was to recreate a traditional Omani village, so the 82 villas are authentically square and squat, built of grey Nizwa stone, palm fronds and teak timbers lashed together with thick coir rope.

The public areas come with a clay-coloured fortress finish, a grand tower and lots of open lounging spaces. Decorative flourishes include trays with pyramids of powdered spices, and hessian sacks stuffed with cinnamon sticks and star anise. A waterfall meanders through to an infinity pool overlooking the beach, and a small souk will open soon, with Muscat artisans selling their crafts, halwa cake and henna transfers. Six Senses will provide free board and lodging (Zighy Bay is ends-of-the-earth isolated), and stallholders will keep all their takings.

I visited the Life (Leisure Innovative Fun Experience) office and inquired again about paragliding. Still no can do. I tutted, and asked, on your behalf, about other ways to scare myself stupid. An hour later, I was scrambling up sheer slopes to hamlets that have clung to these arid inclines for more than 1,000 years - only abandoned with the discovery of oil. It certainly raised the pulse to stand on the Hajar mountains’ fragile ledges and overlook its fjord-like gorges. Biking was scarier still – uphill was gruelling, but freewheeling down was about as extreme as adventure gets.

The next morning - my last - conditions remained unfavourable for paragliding. With the elation of someone spared the firing squad, I splashed around on the coral reef, a fin’s flip from shore, before heading to an Arabic cookery lesson. Although Zighy Bay is positioning itself as the Alist adventure destination, it does smooth, too: sunset dhow cruises, romantic picnics and an impressive organic spa.

The chef’s advice on hummus and shish tawook was entertainingly studded with scurrilous stories about his time working for one of the royal families. We were discussing where I might eat our efforts (beach, pool, top of the tower) when my butler burst in with “good” news. I could paraglide in 45 minutes. The chef glanced at his watch: plenty of time for lunch. Yeah right, like I had any appetite left.

All too soon, I was nervously checking with the resort’s Mr Safehands, who rides tandem on the paraglider, that this was 100% safe. He smiled: “Nothing’s 100% safe, is it?” Great, I’d travelled nearly 3,700 miles to find the one man who didn’t know the correct answer to the “Does my bum look big in this?” question. He fixed my safety helmet and said: “It’ll be fine. All you have to do is run when I tell you to.”

Except I didn’t. I froze. He had to manhandle me off the mountain. After several heart-pumping minutes, we closed in on the beach and he told me to slip out of my seat and run when we hit the ground. Of course, I didn’t. I assumed a quasi-crash position, allowing him to bear the full brunt of landing.

Afterwards, I felt ridiculously pleased with myself, particularly when contemplating my Herculean achievement from the cool pool of my swanky villa. There may well be something in this luxury with all the thrills.

Susan d’Arcy travelled as a guest of Carrier (0161 491 7630, www.carrier.co.uk), which has a week from £1,570pp, B&B, with Silverjet flights from Luton to Dubai and transfers. Or try Original Travel (020 7978 7333, www.originaltravel.co.uk) or Western & Oriental (0845 277 3389, www.westernoriental.com)

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