Nine in the evening, the boat is at anchor. The last tender went past an hour ago, the cove is yours, and nobody has looked at a watch since lunch.
That is what we sell. The rest of this page is how we get there.
Boats under ten years old
A deck you wash barefoot in the morning, before the sun gets high. A cabin you can stand up in to get dressed. A shower with real pressure, cotton sheets, and silence when you close the door.
No yacht or catamaran older than ten years. You know the model and the year she was launched before you book, not when you walk down the pontoon. It’s what makes the sixth night sleep as well as the first.
A chef aboard, on request
Our chefs work ashore in restaurants and events, and come aboard for the week.
Aboard, the chef walks down to the harbour market while you are still asleep. Lunch is decided in the cove where we drop anchor, from what was found that morning — not from a menu settled three weeks earlier. Seasonal, organic wherever possible, and the conviction that fine produce barely touched beats a complicated plate.
In the evening the table is laid on the aft deck before you climb back out of the water. And it is cleared without your ever seeing it done.
A skipper who speaks your language
RYA skipper, and one who has already sailed the route he is proposing. Tomorrow’s weather, the anchorage we leave at four because the wind is backing, the cove he is keeping for the last day: all of it in your own language, so you decide knowing what you are deciding.
It’s a detail, right up until the day it isn’t.
One price, everything in it
You won’t reach for your card aboard. Skipper, bed linen, towels, end-of-charter cleaning and insurance are in the price, quoted once, at the start.
What isn’t — fuel, harbour and mooring fees, provisioning — is costed in the quote itself, with a realistic figure for your route. Nothing appears after you sign.
Your group, nobody else
The whole boat is yours. No cabin sold to strangers, no shared departure, nobody else at the dinner table. There are two, six or eight of you, and you decide what time breakfast happens — or that it has no time.
You set the pace
Some people want the night crossing, the three-in-the-morning watch and the island coming out of the haze at first light. Others would rather keep the coast in sight, sail three hours and spend a long afternoon at anchor doing nothing in particular.
Both make good weeks. The only bad one is when the first is imposed on people who wanted the second. We talk about it before you leave, and the itinerary follows.
Monohull or catamaran
Either, depending on what you’re after. A catamaran doesn’t heel, gives you an enormous saloon and cabins split between two hulls — often the right call with a family or two couples. A monohull sails better upwind, fits into tighter anchorages and costs less in harbour. And above all it behaves better when the weather turns: it is the boat for the weeks when the odyssey becomes an adventure.
We’ll tell you plainly which suits your week, including when it isn’t the more expensive of the two.
5.0/5 on Google (8 reviews) and 4.3 on Trustpilot (9 reviews). 17 reviews from crews who actually sailed with us, on two platforms we cannot edit. Read every one of them.