Valour, the Trintella 50 was home for a fabulous week.

Out of the blue, over the Christmas period, I got a call from an old friend, Hal Denton and suddenly the opportunity was there. I first met Hal when running the company that built his first yacht – a 47-foot Trintella. Recently Hal had upgraded to the larger Trintella 50 and the purpose of his call was to say that he was wintering in the British Virgin Islands. Hal insisted that I cruise the boat in the islands complete with his captain, Glenn, aboard. Despite my experience I was not sure that he trusted me with his pride and joy! When I nervously proposed it to Jane, who knew the boat having joined us for the original sea trials which included, famously, the 2006 Round the Island race, she amazingly enough said yes. Sam agreed to come along provided he could bring Bethany.

My family is pretty hard to please, but our first few moments in the BVI had everybody smiling from ear to ear. Glenn met us at Beef Island airport, on Tortola, following our short hop from the madness of Antigua airport on a busy Friday afternoon. A short stroll from the airport terminal down to the dinghy hauled up the beach at Trellis Bay, a two minute ride to the anchored yacht and we found ourselves relaxing in the cockpit with rum punches in hand, enjoying the evening breeze. It started well.

Bethany received advanced steering tuition.

I certainly had ample opportunity to screw up the holiday, but a first-class boat like the Trintella helped me out quite a bit. The below deck accommodation is truly luxurious, even somewhere to plug in a hair dryer – one of the early prerequisites in our negotiations at home. On deck there is a guest cockpit forward of the working cockpit separating the sailors from the “tourists”. The iconic Trintella doghouse made it very easy to duck out of the wind, and the absence of a bimini was a bonus. Every English sailor likes sailing with the sun on his face. Also, from the aft cockpit, I could happily steer from within easy reach of the electric winches for mainsheet and foresails.

Our first full day aboard Valour saw us test the seagoing ability of this great Ron Holland design as we beat upwind in 30 knots to Virgin Gorda. We anchored off the upscale Bitter End Yacht Club, and joined in the traditional Sunday regatta. Lasers in the morning, Hobie Cats in the afternoon. Sam and I had a score to settle and, although I’m ahead in our photo, Sam showed a total lack of respect and took overall honours on the day. Between us we won enough Mount Gay rum to last us the week.

After enjoying the confines of North Sound, sampling Saturday dinner on Saba Rock and Sunday dinner at the fabulous Fat Virgin Café, we reached back to Roadtown, Tortola, on Monday, to properly stock up with groceries. It was raining and blustery, but by evening Glenn had us anchored off the main charter thoroughfares in Little Harbor on Peter Island, stern tied to a tree, without another boat in sight.

Here we all had our first go at snorkelling, and although I came close to drowning, it was a key objective of the holiday I’d been dreaming of – and I got better at it as the week progressed.

For Tuesday’s adventure, we set sail for the ocean by way of the northern tip of Peter Island, reached around Norman Island, and dropped the hook for the lunchtime swim in The Bight. We then enjoyed a fine afternoon sail all the way around the west end of Tortola up the north coast to arrive in Cane Garden Bay at sundown. We ate well ashore and watched live pictures of the Mardi Gras celebrations in New Orleans. They weren’t having any more fun than we were!

Ian and Sam get swept away by the bubbling pool in Virgin Gorda.

The next morning, we reached across to Jost Van Dyke, avoided the overcrowded tourist destinations of the Soggy Dollar Bar and Foxy’s, anchored near Little Cay and ventured ashore. We had a worthy destination for our short trek up and over the headland: the Bubbling Pool. We all cooled off amidst the swell surging in through the rocks. That afternoon, we sailed upwind again to Monkey Point, on the northern tip of Tortola, for more snorkelling practice and a cup of tea.

On Thursday and for the first time, we set sail for an island we couldn’t see. Compared to most of the lofty islands in the archipelago, Anegada sits off by itself, barely above sea level, and surrounded by reefs. Fortunately, the trade winds were a bit south of east, so we were able to crack off our sheets slightly and have a fantastic sail at 9 knots. Another personal milestone was achieved en route – we caught our lunch! We managed to land a monster cero – a cross between a mackerel and a tuna apparently – and thoroughly enjoyed our first sushi of the trip.

Without Glenn aboard, however, we never would have attempted the tricky navigation and the shallow channel given Valour’s 8-foot draft. As we closed with Anegada’s charted position, we couldn’t see a thing. As I began the conversation with Glenn about his navigational error and the GPS showed us reaching the outer reefs, we saw a solitary tree. Within a few minutes Glenn had guided us in through the narrow channel, and we were ashore exploring an incredibly flat island. At one point, the taxi driver went over a bridge that was elevated maybe four feet above the water. He stopped and announced that this was the highest point on the island.

With few other sailboats in the anchorage, we had much of Loblolly Beach to ourselves and had another fine afternoon of snorkelling. For dinner, Anegada lobster, of course, at Neptune’s Treasure.

After a somewhat uncomfortable night in the exposed anchorage and much muttering about hotels that don’t move during the night, we retraced our steps back towards Sir Francis Drake Channel, caught our lunch again, snorkelled one last time and spent the night in splendid isolation anchored off Cooper Island. Saturday was boat cleaning in the morning before our new friend Glenn dropped us at the airport for our flight back to Antigua.

Not only was the week aboard Valour an incredible gift from my friend, Hal, but Glenn, our skipper, was good company, too. Equally important, he did a great job of keeping the pressure off me. Usually I’m the skipper, and as my racing crew knows, I’m not a particularly quiet one – something my family has little tolerance for. If I’d been the skipper, no doubt I would have been preoccupied and nervous at times, probably making me grumpier than usual! Instead, I was relaxed, thoroughly enjoying the sailing on such a pedigree craft and, with Glenn in charge, my family was happy to be more adventurous than they might have without him, sailing for longer stretches, anchoring in out of the way places not found in many charter guides and making the crossing to Anegada and back.

The BVI's sparkling turquoise water helps even a keen sailboat racer relax.

In the past, I would never have thought I would want to be aboard a boat without being in charge. But after this experience, I can assure you, if the Caribbean has been calling your name, you would do well to consider hiring a crewed charter yacht. Your crew will no doubt be happy with the result. Even if you’re set on a bareboat charter, power or sail, but you’re a little unsure of your capabilities, you can reassure both yourself and your family by hiring a skipper for a couple of days to get you started.

I won’t know for a little while if another Caribbean cruise is in the cards for next year. But I’m pretty confident that I have figured out the formula so I might make it happen again.

Editor’s Note: Ian Atkins lives in Titchfield, UK, and is managing director of YachtWorld.com and Boats.com.