Marine

Everyone buddies up. I have come solo, so Katerina is stuck with me, and we complete two gentle transects of the reef. It’s a sea of colour: reds and blues, yellows, silver and gold. Friendly little wrasse, painted combers, sizeable parrotfish and 35 salema porgy accompany us as I try not to double-count them. No sign of invaders – lionfish, rabbitfish, redcoats or bluespotted cornetfish. Back at the dive centre, we input the data, and I’m gratified to find that my card matches Katerina’s, give or take a grouper.

It has been great fun – a very gentle introduction to fieldwork, in what I’m going to declare the best place in the Mediterranean to spot fish. I do not say this lightly. Over several years, I have sailed east to Greece from Gibraltar; my boyfriend, Wolfi, sailed west from Turkey. We both freedived. Neither of us has seen this much life underwater, though he is reminded of particular parts of the Turkish coastline where, as a teenager 20 years ago, he regularly found now-rare giant triton (Charonia tritonis) and giant tun snails (Tonna galea) – a great source of envy as I have never seen either in the wild.

With the smug glow of having done something worthwhile, I wander down to the charming harbour, where I find Wolfi soaking up the atmosphere, and I boast about all the groupers I’ve seen. Fish tavernas line the front, but I have a local person’s recommendation, so we’re heading for Tassia’s Cooking (if you can’t get in, Sossinola is also good). Having made friends with so many fish today, I find I just can’t eat one, so I opt for creamy fava bean and vine leaves, followed by moussaka – all homemade, well priced and really good.

A five-minute stroll from Steni Vala’s harbour, behind Glyfa beach, we find our night’s accommodation, Ilya Botanic Suites, by a shady olive grove. Calming and compact, these minimalist rooms reflect the landscape; fine-grained terrazzo softened with vertical wooden blinds and plants, and – the best bit – a small plunge pool to sink into after the hard work of counting fish.

The next day we head north to Gerakas, where I’m in the water for under a minute when I find a beautiful grouper snagged on the end of a tangled line. We get some pliers and release the distressed creature; it heads down to the safety of the rocks and we make for the tiny port of Kalamakia for the excellent Margarita fish taverna (owned by a fisher). Our meal of fresh Thunnus alalunga (Alonissos tuna), scorpion fish and lobster comes to about €180 for two with drinks – expensive by Greek standards, but all locally caught and the quality is excellent.

Away from the water, Alonissos is surprisingly lush for an Aegean island – Aleppo pines and oaks, maples and olive trees stud the hills. It even boasts a mountain (just, at 475 metres), Kouvouli. At 20km long, the island’s interior is easy to cover over a couple of days (you’re more likely to meet handsome goats than other humans), but, be warned, some roads only loosely resemble that description, and a quad bike is preferable to a car if you don’t want to lose your deposit. There are plenty of bike trails (and beautiful ravine hikes), but in the searing July heat we opt for shady forest walks and quick stops for clifftop views. And, let’s be honest, on a Greek island in summer, the best days start and finish in the sea.

Happily, you can access a range of beaches on both sides of the island for sunrise and sunset views. On the eastern shore is the much-loved Agios Dimitrios, a sweeping triangular stretch of white pebble. It’s organised with cafes and sunbeds, great for families, but for me it’s most stunning from above, that tongue of white plunging like an arrow into turquoise sea. Kokkinokastro is another beautiful beach, and Gialos, with its old windmill perched on the cliffs, offers a wonderfully moody sunset. But my favourite, hands down, is the small and secluded Kremisma beach. Absolutely beautiful. It’s a short walk from a car park and a slightly steep drop (ignore the frayed rope), and there are no sunbeds, no bars, nothing at all (perhaps literally – it’s said to be nudist-friendly, though personally I wouldn’t recommend stripping, which is not customary in Greece).

Off the pebble beach is a rocky little coastline that’s perfect for spotting marine life. Wolfi and I by now are on one baby moray eel each, and I have swooned over a shiny brown cowrie, but he’s ahead on octopus. Competitive, me?

The busy little port town of Patitiri, where you will arrive, is home to most residents and offers plenty of accommodation, shopping, beaches, tavernas and a museum (a steep climb makes a morning visit best). To get a sense of why Alonissos is important, visit the monk seal information centre, run by MOm (the Hellenic Society for the Study and Protection of the Monk Seal). The marine park was established to protect its population of monk seals (one of the most endangered marine mammals in the world). There are gifts, and footage of seals you won’t see up close (a sobering photo of someone with a nasty bite illustrates another reason you shouldn’t try).

For nightlife, don’t miss the tiny and eclectic Drunk Seal bar, at its best after midnight. Overlooking the port, you will find Kritamo restaurant, with great cocktails and a contemporary spin on Greek cuisine. Down among the throng of the town, the old-school taverna Archipelagos cooks Greek classics – goat in tomato, stifado – very well. A few kilometres along the coastline, pretty Votsi and Rousoum Gialos harbours are also worth a stroll for dinner.

Behind and above Patitiri sits Chora, the historic hilltop “old town”, where locals lived until it was devastated by an earthquake in 1965 (establishing the port as the new capital). Most of the stone houses have since been extensively restored, while several churches and the original Byzantine walls survived. It’s beyond charming – all cobbled alleys crowded with candlelit tavernas and flowering balconies. The views over both coastlines make it ideal for sunset and dinner (evening temperatures help with the steep streets). There’s also a museum where landlubbers can “dive” the Peristera shipwreck, using VR to navigate the piles of amphorae.

Great fun, but you don’t need scuba skills or simulation to find real treasures underwater in Alonissos. With Wolfi and I neck and neck in sightings, I end the week on an absolute high, spotting a stunning giant triton snail in the shallows, followed by a giant tun snail partly buried in the sand. Numbers of both have plummeted in the Mediterranean due to overfishing and shell collectors, so it’s a joy to see them alive and well in Alonissos’s practically pristine waters.

Ilya Botanic Suites in Steni Vala has double suites with a hot tub and garden view from £105 a night. Free scuba diving and snorkelling trips: to take part in a reef check in Alonissos, contact Kostas (info@ikiondiving.gr) or check the website (sporadesdiving.gr). Return ferry tickets to Alonissos from Skiathos, about £45; or from Volos, Thessaly (2.5 hours’ drive from Thessaloniki), or Mantoudi, Evia island (2 hours’ drive from Athens, connected by a bridge), about £80