Eagles Palace

‘This is suddenly not so fun anymore,’ Mr Smith yelled over the roar of the outboard engine.

The grey-green sea churned below us in haphazard waves, causing the boat to lurch and sway. A cold splatter of seawater hit my face, instantly drenching my ill-thought out maxi dress. I had to agree with him.

At my feet, two stowaway boys in bright orange lifejackets – our little Mr Smiths – shrieked with excitement each time the boat’s hull thudded into the void of a wave.

The day had started out so beautifully. It seemed the perfect idea to have a jaunt on the mirror-like sea, exploring the coves around the forested islands of the Mount Athos peninsula. The little white boat, with its jolly red canvas top had practically beckoned to us.

Mr Smith steered the boat through the glassy water with ease, and in the light breeze we pootled from one deserted to beach to another, with only the odd goat or two for company, using wild olive trees for shade and cooling off in the aquamarine water. One of the bigger islands in the pretty string of islets had a rustic taverna, where we ate freshly grilled squid and delicious hot chips, our feet in the sand and an icy Mythos beer close by.

But then, as we ran the gauntlet home, granite coloured clouds rolled towards us in fast forward and abruptly we were caught in a squall. I peered at the 14th century tower of Ouranoupolis through the sheets of rain, and prayed.

A few hours later, safely curled up on the oversized day bed on our balcony at Eagles Palace, a large gin and tonic in hand, the unfortunate end to our boat trip dissipated like those stormy clouds and instead we faced a stunning panorama of the glinting evening sea, the descending sun reflecting onto little boats bobbing on a patchwork of clear greens and blues. Calm once again restored.

Around us, verdant greenery cloaked the hotel, pine and palm trees standing tall and lush, gardens filled with the fresh scent of gardenia and jasmine, no doubt benefitting from their rain dousing.

The soothing vibe continued into our large suite – the decor simple and modern with a focus on comfort. The white on-white colour palette – white walls, bed, squashy sofa and muted off-white limestone floor – enlivened with tasteful nautical green and blue cushions, and elegant pale-blue glass hanging lights. On one wall was a huge round mirror, like a vast porthole, perfect for smug selfies, the stunning sea view making an oh-so-enviable backdrop.

Even better was our Little Smith’s bedroom: a cute cabin-like room complete with bunk beds, where they happily trotted off to bed, without complaint, leaving us the full run of the spacious suite, and that romantic view. Cozying up in the oversized wicker chair with a smooth Greek red wine we contemplated the sunset, before resisting the huge bed no longer.

After a sumptuous breakfast buffet the next morning – our bowls piled far too high with Greek yoghurt, fruit and honey, sticky pastries and omelets with feta cheese – I declared a morning in the spa was required. Mr Smith, ever one of the lads, decided to take the Little Smith’s to the pool, no doubt punctuated with trips to the swim up bar for juice and crisps and the obligatory midday holiday beer, leaving me suddenly footloose and toddler-free.

I wasted no time in heading to the spa, weaving past the loungers laid out enticingly in front of the translucent turquoise sea, passing a rather smart looking kids’ club which children were actively running into. Then I entered the ‘vacuum of time’ – the hammam, steam, Jacuzzi, in/out swimming pool and mini ESPA facial drained the minutes like sand through a sieve.

Before I knew it I was deposited back on the beach, dazed but refreshed and ready for lunch. We sit at the beach restaurant, perfect for restless toddlers who are unable to even wait for the bread basket to arrive – our little Mr Smiths happily playing on the sand within minutes while we linger over lunch of grilled octopus with polenta, zucchini balls and bowls of tasty tzatziki.

I gazed at the mill-pond waters of the sea. At the jetty I saw uniformed staff loading up the hotel’s speed boat with wicker hampers, cool boxes and stripy umbrellas. The captain took to the wheel and looked around, resting his gaze on Mr Smith, and beckoned to him. Mr Smith announced a sunset speedboat trip had been organised in honour of our ill-fated rain-lashed boat excursion.

Who was I to resist?