I've always espoused the mantra (if I can trap someone long enough while I bang on) that if you could take Italy's hinterland, and Greece's coastline and islands, you'd have arguably the world's perfect destination. That was until I had the very, very great pleasure of spending a couple of days aboard Blue Deer sailing around Italy's Pontine Islands. Greece, consider yourself redundant.
From Couture to Catamaran
First, the backstory. Blue Deer is a sublimely elegant catamaran owned by the even more sublimely elegant Stefano and Georgia Barbini, who were both grandi parrucche (big wigs, in Italian) in the fashion industry before one of the great midlife pivots into the world of luxury travel. 'Giorgia and I went from designing clothes to redesigning our lives. We started to... in Italian we say ""dream with our eyes open.""'
The first dream to come to fruition was San Lorenzo Mountain Lodge (now White Deer), their stunning chalet in the heart of the Dolomites, which they converted into quite possibly the finest 'homestay' in Italy. Lucky families or groups of friends can stay in extreme comfort while Giorgia knocks up Michelin-star quality Italian food and Stefano leads you on truffle or funghi hunting missions in the surrounding woodland or superb ski touring, depending on the season, before showing off the finer wines in his world class cellar of Italian vintages.
The thought of having your hosts actually staying with you might not appeal to everyone, but in this case it is an enormous enhancement to the trip and, in truth, its very essence.
Concept proven, Stefano and Giorgia turned their attention from Italy's mountains to the country's coastline and islands, and commissioned the building of a catamaran, Blue Deer.
To Ponza
That's how, after dropping some deeply unsubtle hints to Stefano, I found myself flying to Rome and driving two hours south to the charming port of Gaeta past endless gorgeous and empty beaches. 'What's this coastline called, Stefano?' I asked, excited at the prospects of having 'discovered' an entirely new region of Italy. 'Oh, it doesn't really have a name' said Stefano, otherwise occupied with being a comically stereotypical Italian driver on the autostrada (not for the faint-hearted), 'but this is the heart of the buffalo mozzarella producing region. The locals will only eat the cheese before lunch on the day it is produced.' Only in Italy could there be a region of such stunning coastline and culinary importance that doesn't even really warrant a name of its own.
And then there she was - Blue Deer - 74ft of twin-hulled gorgeousness, off whom trooped the three equally glossy crew.
We headed due west out of Gaeta until the only clue that there had been land somewhere behind us was a low ribbon of cotton wool cloud indicating where the coastline had been.
Ahead of us, and out of the haze, loomed the hints, then the silhouettes, and finally the realities of the Pontine Islands. First, Ponza, a dramatic basalt lump tilting out of the azure sea like a capsized white hull; then Isla Zannone, a designated nature reserve and home to just one house, inhabited by the forest ranger.
An Obsession With Detail
We moored up off Ponza in the shadow of vast cliffs behind which the sun dipped, and after a quick shower in the slate lined bathroom ('When we designed her' said Stefano, 'we started with the bathrooms - very importante') it was time for a not even remotely well-earned but very welcome apertivo and what would prove to be the first of several sensational meals on board.
As any sailor will tell you, the galley is normally tucked away deep below decks, but Stefano had decreed it should be at the open plan heart of Blue Deer, so guests can watch Paulo the Puglian chef (Stefano again: 'always have a Puglian in the kitchen; always') work his mouth-watering magic. Tonight's particular conjuring trick consisted of incredibly fresh grouper, a super-sized and perfectly al dente rigatoni, complemented by a crisp Sicilian white wine that's in such short supply and so popular with knowing Sicilians it never normally leaves the island.
The wine is just one example. 'We source the finest olive oil from Puglia;' says Stefano, 'Zibello Parmesan cheese - it has to be 2012; Langirano Parma ham from Santa Elario; tomatoes from Mariano; pasta from Graniarno; La Secchia 20-year old balsamic vinegar from Modena - bellissima; honey from near White Deer in South Tyrol and anchovies from Trapani in Sicily - a very beautiful place. Oh, and jam. The jam is made by my mum.'
You may have noticed by this point Stefano's attention to - no, that's not nearly strong enough - obsession with, detail. He and Giorgia try - and resoundingly succeed in my humble opinion - to present the perfect Italian experience. It's about showing people from less serenely blessed destinations that the genius of Italy is in its innate authenticity and simplicity.
After dropping deeply unsubtle hints to Stefano, the owner of the Blue Deer, I flew to Italy ready to board the sublime catamaran for a few days in the Pontine Islands. We explored Ponza town itself, before heading over to the nearby island of Palmarola and doing some sea urchin diving...
Morning on Deck
It's morning and I've had one of the best night's sleep I can remember. I'm lured on deck by the smell of coffee. Puglian Paulo hands me a perfect espresso and a biscotti which I savour sitting on the end of Blue Deer's diving board (sourced - naturalamente - from the company that makes the diving boards for the Olympics) with my feet dangling over crystal clear sea. It's time for a dip. It's October but the water is 24 degrees and the outdoor temperature is a glorious 24 as well. I take a mask and snorkel and the visibility is astonishing - 50 metres or more.
Ponza Town (ft. Heidi the Hippie)
Then we jump in the catamaran's tender to motor into the harbour of picture perfect Ponza Town with its pastel painted houses clinging to the cliffs. At this time of year the island lacks the buzz it generates when the Italian great and good arrive in Agusto, but there's still an innate charm and it's a chance to appreciate those twin joys of the real Italy again - authenticity and simplicity - where old men potter and three-wheeled Apes (pronounced a-pay) buzz around with their Piaggio scooter engines.
We meet a German hippy called Heidi who shows us down into an enormous and two-thousand-year-old Roman cistern that held precious rainwater channelled off the island's steep hillsides and then distributed by a series of channels. At the same time the ever-ingenious Romans dug a tunnel between the island's two perfect natural harbours so naval and merchant ships could find respite in a harbour whichever way the wind was blowing, and disembark goods and soldiers. Post Romans, the Berbers, arriving as conquerors centuries later, used the cistern as a conventional well, and modern day Ponza has its water delivered by boat from the mainland. Think about that for a second. We had another wander around the narrow alleyways of the town, and a delicious cappuccino, which was deemed just about acceptable by Stefano as it was one minute before midday - the strict cut off point after which only espresso is culturally acceptable.
To Palmarola
On the way back to Blue Deer Alfredo the skipper took us to a bay where a giant sea stack we circled in the boat suddenly revealed itself to be a massive sea arch every bit as awesome as the far more famous fragolini in Capri. Known as la porta di inferno - the gateway to hell, it's an unlikely way to Hades in such a heavenly spot.
As we sailed out of Ponza we passed a lighthouse perched on a dramatic basalt promontory reached by a narrow foot path that wound up the hill like something from Game of Thrones. Sadly we didn't have time to, but you can walk from Ponza in a couple of hours.
Then to Palmarola, across the deeper water. It was one of those days when the water is so calm and the sky so cloudless that the horizontal split between sea and sky is almost indiscernible, as if you're sailing into a perfect azure void.
Another perfect bay in which to moor up, and after lunch (calamari and potato salad) Stefano introduced me one of the Blue Deer's best toys - a pair of Seabobs - miniaturised and motorised one man 'submarines'. It's brilliant Bond-style fun to put on a mask and snorkel and zip around, taking a deep breath and diving down a few metres to weave in among the boulders on the sea floor.
Diving for Sea Urchins
Next, we boarded the tender again for a tour of the extraordinary caves and stacks of the island before donning wetsuits, masks and snorkels again to indulge one of Stefano's great passions, diving for sea urchins. I held the mesh bag as he dived down to expertly flick the urchins off their rocky homes with a Bond-style knife and wearing special gloves to avoid being pricked by the scores of sharp spikes urchins use to deter predators.
Back on deck, Stefano sliced the tops off the urchins like boiled eggs, and I scooped the vivid orange roes out into a bowl. It was an almost hypnotic process as we worked at the back of the boat while the skipper set our course back to the mainland and reality. As we worked I sat nursing a delicious Sardinian beer (specially sourced, of course) on the prow of the boat. A vivid red sun set was turning the white cliffs of Palmarola blood red, before a full moon rose over the islands. It was genuinely one of the most magical moments I've had in travel - a moment of perfect Italian choreographia.
The Last Supper
That night we moored up in Gaeta again and enjoyed the sublime end result of our labours, a delicate subtle and sensational urchin roe linguine.
The crew - made up of a Sicilian, a Puglian, and a Milanese - might sound like the start of some Roman bar joke, but it's a warm reminder that while they remain fiercely loyal to their respective regions, all Italians share certain passions - food, beauty, life. In short, the Italians have got the art of living down pat, and Stefano Barbini is the best proponent of this you could possibly hope to meet. 'Stefano,' I asked as we disembarked for the last time, 'What's the Italian equivalent of the phrase joie de vivre?' He thought for a second or two before replying: 'We don't really have one or need one - we just live it.' Amen to that.