The most hedonistic hotel in Ibiza – and the man behind it

When I checked in at Tony Pike’s hotel in Ibiza last summer I was so in thrall to the gallery of framed photographs depicting its phalanx of famous visitors that I failed to notice the former proprietor himself, sat unassumingly on a designer chair underneath a stag’s head. Only later did my friend ask me if I had spotted him.

Instead I was picking out my pop heroes. Kurt Cobain, Bowie, Grace Jones, Freddie Mercury... the roll-call of rock royalty and, latterly, stellar DJs that have checked-in to Pikes is endless. For some, like Freddie Mercury - whose bed remains in situ in the hotel’s dancing den - name Freddie’s in his honour - Pikes became something of a retreat; a home from home.

Pike, who died yesterday, is woven into the fabric of Ibiza. My visit to the hotel last summer was my first but I had become unwittingly aware of it in the early Eighties when Wham! were a permanent fixture on Top of the Pops. I had an almighty crush on Andrew Ridgely, George Michael’s bandmate - so much so that I carried a picture of his tanned arm, cut from a giant Smash Hits poster, in my pencil case for over a year.

It was 1983: the year that launched the space shuttle Challenger, the CD, a computer programme called Microsoft Word and the first iteration of the Dyson (G Force). In a galaxy far, far away (no low-cost flights, remember) at a then impossibly glamorous hotel in Ibiza, a video in which a swim-shorts clad George and Andrew performing a now legendary trumpet sequence was being shot in a Hockney-blue pool. Owner Tony Pike took a cameo role, behind the bar.

Hotels today would kill for the type of publicity generated by that video. None of it, of course, was planned. This wasn’t the way Tony operated. He just threw damn good parties and people liked him. Pikes epitomised Ibiza cool long before ‘Ibiza cool’ rolled off a marketeer’s ballpoint pen.

When I look back at Club Tropicana (“Club Tropicana drinks are free... fun and sunshine there’s enough for everyone”), taken from Wham’s debut album, it occurs to me that the bronzed Wham! boys were a naive crystallisation of ‘escape’ - an early-teen distraction from the grim realities being played out on TV: unemployment, industrial decline and strikes. That summer I zoned out of our family holiday on the Isle of Wight, with three albums - Let’s Dance (Bowie), Fantastic (Wham!) and The Hurting (Tears for Fears).

Having arrived in Ibiza by ferry in 1978 Tony built Pikes from the bones of a ruined finca, pushing boulders up hills under the Spanish sun. He jackhammered out the pool and added rooms as he went along. Although he finally bowed out of the business in 2011 he had remained in residence, in room 25, ever since.

Hotels like Pikes don’t come around very often and if they do they rarely stand the test of time. Pikes inevitably lost its way in the Nineties but it was given a successful re-boot in 2011. By taking a piece of Ibizan history and breathing new life into the entertainment and food, without compromising the finca’s character, the couple behind the Ibiza Rocks brand has achieved the impossible. Last year, alongside nights by DJ Harvey, Pikes hosted a literary festival featuring Irvine Welsh and John Niven.

Our group of six occupied room 9 which, if you believe the hotel marketing blurb, is one of its most requested. The eclectic decor that gives the low-rise hotel much of its character was very much in evidence in the moody two-bedroom suite. In the words of Lucy St George, of designer Rocket St George, “We painted the walls in our signature black paint and then added our famously quirky touch to the décor using palm tree floor lights, faux palm trees, a cocktail trolley, some giant artwork and neon lights.”

Thrown into the mix were Moroccan blankets, wall-mounted zebras, a cowhide rug, champagne buckets and light sconces in the form of monkeys. I’ve stayed at a few Ibiza hotels and room rates are relatively high, but I’d go back in a shot.

I particularly liked the pink tennis court with its giant roller boot, being serenaded through dinner by guitarist Paco Fernandez and the convenience of having the party - Saturday night at Pikes, come to us. The Curiosity Shoppe's excellent cocktail list included a foamy Spear of Destiny. Serendipity indeed: my crush on Ridgley was superseded by Spear of Destiny's Kirk Brandon.

The pool, though much smaller than the one conjured by my teenaged self, was unmistakably the pool - identifiable by its traditional blue and yellow tiles and the circular submerged bar table and stool where George Michael posed for photos in a cowboy hat.

An intimate hotel, with only 26 rooms, it was impossible not to see Tony around. At breakfast on our first day he had joined a group of Pikes devotees at a neighbouring table. He was wearing a designer dressing gown - the sort of stunt only Burt Reynolds, Roger Moore or Freddie himself could’ve pulled off

On our final morning at the hotel I went for a swim and returned from the pool to find him napping on one of my friend’s sunbeds. We had picked a patio that was in the shade. When he woke up Tony didn’t stop talking.

He told me about his awful childhood and his abusive brother and about arriving in Ibiza in 1978 and buying the finca in the hills above San Antonio that was all but falling down. He asked if he could have my Granny Smith’s apple. He helped himself to crisps - leftovers from our party the night before. Every now and then he’d have another snooze.

He told us about the cancer drugs he was taking to keep him alive and how he needed money to pay for them (the following month he launched a crowdfunding campaign) and shamelessly chatted up the waitress who brought him water.

He was full of admiration for George Michael, but couldn’t stand Andrew Ridgely. He had lots to say about Koo Stark and Grace Jones. Pike seemed to suffer from a story-telling version of Tourette’s. Much of what he said made my toes curl. What went on at Pikes has been well documented. His book, Mr Pikes, The Story Behind the Ibiza Legend, tells the same stories. Me Too was never going to be part of Tony Pikes’ lexicon.

Like the travellers who were forging the backpacker trail in Asia, he was of an era. Unfettered by planning laws and red tape he just forged ahead and did stuff. He had the good fortune to turn up early for a party that hadn’t yet started. He had a rapacious appetite for fun.

Co-owner of the revamped hotel, Dawn Hindle, says: “When we bought Pikes, Tony was part of the package. Even at the age of 85 he was full of energy and with a zest for life of someone of much younger years. Tony was part of a generation of characters, trailblazers and adventure seekers. We will make sure his legacy lives on.”