Growing up, my identical twin sister, Lou, and I shared numerous experiences, but when it came to sailing and being on the water, this is where our paths diverged.

Lou and her husband, Stu, have never set foot on a sailing boat. The closest they have ever come to life on the water was an overnight ferry crossing.

A charter holiday would be the perfect way to introduce them to sailing and my husband, John, was also keen; despite sailing thousands of miles from the UK to Brazil and up and down the Caribbean chain, John has never cruised the Mediterranean (although he did spend a few days sailing Steinlager 2 from Cadiz to Ibiza, much to my envy).

John and I had also never been on a charter holiday, having always sailed on our own boat or with friends.

Charter holiday adventure begins

Months later, and we were standing on the Sunsail pontoon at Lefkas Marina in Greece, looking at our home for the next week – the Dufour 44, Melikeris.

Having spent years living on our S&S 34, I’d prepared both Lou and Stu for a week afloat by describing it as ‘camping on the sea’. The last thing I wanted was for them to imagine luxury and then be disappointed.

As it turned out, I was utterly wrong.

Melikeris was luxurious and spacious, with a large galley and saloon and four cabins with hot water, air conditioning and their own heads.

We chose our cabins and unpacked, and then read the welcome note left by our skipper, Tom.

John and I had debated whether to have a skipper or not. We both desperately wanted a proper break, and the relinquishing of most of the responsibilities to a skipper was tempting, especially as half of the crew knew absolutely nothing about sailing.

However, we were worried about how this dynamic would work. Would having a stranger on board make it awkward?

But as we soon found out, we had nothing to worry about, and Tom added much to our charter enjoyment.

Tom had outlined what we could expect the next day – a full briefing before heading out into the Ionian, so, with our agenda set, we walked to the town’s waterfront for dinner.

Charter holiday: Into the Inner Sea

The Lefkas Canal was busy, with plenty of traffic despite it being before the start of the main charter season, and Tom took the helm while we put away fenders and got Lou and Stu used to working from a moving platform (remember, always one hand for you, one hand for the boat).

The pre-charter briefing covered all the usual points: boat controls, safety and emergency procedures, local restrictions, and navigational hazards along our planned route for the week.

With their heads swimming with information, it was now time for Lou and Stu to sit in the cockpit and just enjoy being on the water.

Earlier, we’d found the nearest supermarket in Lefkada Town to buy provisions for the week and, even better, they delivered to the marina.

I went below to check everything was put away as Melikeris motored past the salt pans and towards the ruins of Fort Ay Yeoryiou.

Once out of the canal, we raised the mainsail, giving our new sailors a chance to flex their muscles, and we pointed the nose towards Meganisi.

Vathi is the main port on the northern side of the island, which is littered with bays and coves.

Following the chartplotter (and with Tom’s excellent local knowledge), we found the entrance to the harbour; we were then briefed on the procedure for a stern-to mooring.

During the two-and-a-half-hour sail, John ran through some of the basic knots, including the round turn and two-half-hitches, to prepare Lou and Stu for fender duty.

There was space along the old harbour wall, and we were soon alongside, all fenders in place and hanging securely!

Escaping the crowds on a charter holiday

Typical of the inner Ionian Sea, the wind was light the following morning. We left late after exploring the harbour, and by the afternoon, the north-north-westerly had picked up to Force 5.

With the main and genoa up, we tacked towards Sivota, Lou helming for the first time while Tom and John gave her pointers. The smile on her face said it all!

We moored for lunch at Spartakhori, climbing up the hill while breathing in the heady scent of pine and cypress.

The village, with its winding streets and climbing, pink bougainvillaea, was quiet, although we did manage to find a local bar.

The view was breathtaking; the sheltered bay with its deep blue waters, framed by the mountains of the mainland and distant tree-covered islands.

We could have stayed longer, but we needed to reach our destination for the night.

Compared to Spartakhori, Sivota was bustling, with boats coming and going from the rows of finger pontoons, many of which are owned by the family-run Taverna Delfinia.

Luckily, Tom had phoned ahead and booked us a berth and a table. The restaurant has showers and toilets which crew can use, so we freshened up before feasting on the house special, Delfinia lamb, slow-cooked with vegetables and wrapped in filo pastry with a feta sauce.

We walked around the village to walk off the excesses of dinner before turning in for the night.

The next day, with Stu on the helm, we sailed a few hours south to Ithaca.

The small bays here are straight out of a holiday brochure; crystal-clear waters and powdery white sand.

John and I had to pinch ourselves and started questioning why we had spent years cruising the Caribbean when Greece offered such beauty closer to home.

With the hook dropped, we put the electric engine on the back of the dinghy and motored the short distance to Afales beach. We were the only ones there.

Novel connection

Before the charter holiday, I’d never been to Greece, but I had read about the area we were cruising. Ithaca is forever associated with The Odyssey, which I studied while reading English at university; later, I discovered Kefalonia through the pages of Captain Corelli’s Mandolin.

Fiskardo barely gets a mention in the book, but I was still excited to set foot on the island.

It is a picturesque fishing village, with a sheltered harbour and the remains of a Venetian lighthouse at its entrance.

Initially, we’d tried to moor stern-to the harbour wall, but it was too busy, so instead, anchored Melikeris on the opposite side of the harbour, setting two shore lines for a comfier night on board.

Earlier, while anchored at Ithaca, John had marinated pork chops in garlic and lemon. Melikeris comes with a gas barbecue at the stern, a fantastic reason to have dinner on board.

The quality of produce was, for us, another tick in the box for Greece, and the cockpit table was soon groaning with plates of marinated garlic olives, Greek yoghurt, grilled halloumi cheese, bread, olive oil and balsamic vinegar, which we tucked into while John cooked the chops, which he served with a green and potato salads, washed down with lashings of red and white wine.

There are few things as good as excellent food and wine and spending time with those you love; our evening afloat well and truly hit the spot.

The next morning, Lou, Stu and I decided to explore the northern side of the harbour and walk to the lighthouse, while John selflessly cleaned the grill.

Rather than using the oars or engine, we simply pulled the dinghy the short distance to the shore, using the shore lines, and tied it up.

We scrabbled up the rocks like mountain goats and started walking out to the headland. The ground was scattered with pine needles, and we enjoyed the shade offered by the trees as we followed the Lighthouse Trail.

The compound of the 16th-century Venetian lighthouse, which includes the keeper’s house, is locked, but you can still reach the round tower, built of sand-coloured masonry.

A further short walk inland takes you to the square stone 19th-century lighthouse, which still operates.

We retraced our steps and walked back into the village with its original Venetian buildings.

Crossed anchors

We chose to charter in the Ionian before the main start of the season, as all of us prefer to avoid the crowds. But we hadn’t banked on the popularity of Kalamos.

The harbour was packed with around 30-40 boats, and for the first time this holiday, we rafted to another yacht – a Bavaria Cruiser 42.

It was in stark contrast to our lunch spot at my favourite harbour, Kioni on Ithaca.

The village, with its 19th-century houses, runs around the harbour, with hills towering above. We anchored close to the harbour wall and ‘walked the plank’ to terra firma.

On Tom’s advice, we headed for the Spavento Bar and found a table among the locals outside.

A few beers later, we wandered back to the boat for a ‘bread, cheese and leftovers’ lunch and then, with promises to ourselves to return to this gem, we pulled up the anchor and made the most of the Force 3-5 winds from the west-north-west.

We averaged 6 knots, Stu and I taking turns at the helm.

Tom took over as we entered Kalamos and called up George, the unofficial harbourmaster, who directed us next to the Bavaria 42, Transition.

Once rafted up and with the anchor and springs set, we cracked open ice-cold Mythos and watched the entertainment unfold.

With so many boats anchored, chains will inevitably be laid on top of each other, or anchors will get stuck.

The crew of one boat, a few up along the harbour from us, tried to raise their anchor, which was not moving.

The dinghy was deployed, and under the glare of the anchorage, they went through the process of getting free so they could take flight and leave.

The evening was spent at George’s Taverna at the end of the breakwater, which was popular with crew and some of the local cats, which rubbed against the legs of diners and chairs, hoping for a morsel.

Most of our party ordered steak (on Tom’s recommendation), which was indeed as succulent and big as promised, and John managed to restock the boat’s wine cellar, buying a 5lt plastic bottle of the local vin rouge, which tasted surprisingly good, despite my concerns about how we would pour it without making a mess of the gel coat or any surface (spoiler alert, Lou managed to mispour, causing a small stream of wine to run down the cockpit table and onto the floor; it was swiftly cleaned up).

In the morning, some of us with slightly thick heads, we walked the steep hill up into the village to find a minimart for rubbish bags, before breakfasting on fruit and omelettes on the waterfront.

We lingered, mindful of the fouled anchors of yesterday and waited until the boats closest to us had left before following in their wake.

The long way

“Is Melikeris moving backwards?” asked John. Cursed with light airs, I could see the reason for his question. So far, it had taken us two hours to cover 1.7 miles.

We were heading to Palairos on mainland Greece, but were in no hurry, plus it gave the new sailors a chance to practise sail trimming.

To pass the time, John pulled out the boat’s paper charts and ran through how to fix your position. But another hour of ghosting along, and we gave up, motorsailing the remaining nine miles to the harbour, telling ourselves we needed to charge the batteries anyway.

The marina was busy, mainly with charter boats ahead of the start of the main season, but we managed to find a free berth, mooring stern-to with our now slick team of fender deployers (Lou and Stu), helmsman (Tom), mooring line handler (John), and windless operator/slime line grabber (me, with boat hook).

The four of us wanted to stretch our legs, so we left Tom on board, who promised to book us an Indian restaurant, and went to explore.

The town square has cafés and bars, but we wandered past the white-painted houses with gardens filled with brightly coloured flowers down to the waterfront to By the Sea for a cocktail and a paddle in the clear water (every harbour we went to, the water was free of rubbish and looked clean).

Heading back to the boat, we stopped at the aptly named Lazys Bar for draught beer. Tom joined us, and then we walked the short distance to sample ‘the best Indian in Greece’.

We sat at a table by the beach and ordered tikka and bhuna accompanied by rice and naan bread. The portions were big, so we left with doggy bags.

A little piece of paradise

The yelps from Lou, Stu and John as their bodies hit the cool water echoed around Varko Bay. I had jumped in ahead, and suppressed a chuckle as Stu and John scrambled for the ladder to get back on board and the welcome warmth provided by the sun beating down into the cockpit.

Lou swam out towards me, and we spent half an hour enjoying the refreshing Ionian waters.

We’d anchored here for lunch and, apart from one other boat, we had it to ourselves.

Lou had helmed most of the way from Palairos; the wind had barely blown stronger than a Force 2, and we were hot and sticky and ready for a swim.

Once we’d finished eating, we sailed to the entrance of the Lefkas Canal and motored into the marina and back to our berth on the Sunsail pontoon.

All that was left was for us to be debriefed and then pack for our flight home.

Over the last of the Mythos beer, we reflected on the week. I asked Lou and Stu if they’d do it again.

Smiling, Stu said: “I’ve already been looking at the Sunsail website. Could we sail the Amalfi Coast next time?”

As sailors, we know that exploring by boat is one of the best ways to see new places. I think we may have recruited our crew for the next charter holiday.

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