Ten island-hopping routes for the perfect beach fortnight

Island-hopping fixes the central flaw of the beach holiday: the nagging feeling that a better cove is just over the horizon. With the right route it usually is. Each itinerary below fits a fortnight, runs on real ferries rather than charter yachts, and gets better the further you get from the first port. Golden rule: never more than three islands in two weeks. Moving day always costs more of the holiday than you think.

The classic. Paros brings golden beaches and nightlife in careful doses; Naxos, the greenest of the Cyclades, has a west coast that is essentially one long sandy beach; and Milos finishes the trip with volcanic drama — the white moonscape of Sarakiniko and seventy-odd beaches in every colour rock comes in. Ferries run daily in season and the legs are short. June or September, always.

Start glamorous on Hvar, where yachts stack three-deep below the fortress, then catch the catamaran to Vis for the slow island Croatia kept to itself, and finish among the walled streets and vineyards of Korčula. Swimming is off pebbles and rock into water of absurd clarity. Split is the natural gateway, and the Krilo catamarans sew the whole route together through summer.

Ignore the reputation; the quiet Balearics are hiding in plain sight. Begin in Mallorca's south-east, where pine-backed calas like Mondragó do a fine Caribbean impression, ferry across to Menorca for the wild coves of the Camí de Cavalls, then end on tiny Formentera, all bicycles and bleached-white sand. Three islands, three tempos, one very smug tan.

Use Phuket for the airport and one good beach day, then boat out to Phi Phi, whose karst towers and green lagoons survive every crowd that comes to see them. Finish on laid-back Ko Lanta, where long golden beaches face the sunset and the pace drops to a stroll. November to March is the window; seas are flat and the light is extraordinary.

Fly into Cebu, ferry to Bohol for the white sand of Panglao and the surreal Chocolate Hills inland, then hop to little Siquijor — waterfalls, healers, empty beaches and some of the cheapest great snorkelling anywhere. Filipino ferries are frequent if occasionally eccentric; build in slack. Visit between December and May, before the rains, and learn the word 'salamat' — you'll use it constantly.

The Caribbean as it was: tiny volcanic islands linked by mail boats and day charters, culminating in the Tobago Cays, an uninhabited cluster of islets inside a horseshoe reef where you snorkel with turtles in knee-deep turquoise. Base yourself on friendly Bequia, splash out on a day sail past Mustique, and accept that your standards for 'clear water' are permanently ruined.

Short ferry legs connect three islands that share the same granite-boulder good looks but feel distinct: Mahé has the mountains and the markets, Praslin the primeval Vallée de Mai and Anse Lazio's perfect curve, and car-free La Digue saves the best for last — cycle to Anse Source d'Argent for the most photographed shoreline on earth. April, May, October and November bring the calmest seas.

Seven volcanic islands off Sicily's north coast, sewn together by hydrofoil. Lipari makes the lively base, with pumice-pale beaches and a fortified old town; Salina is greener and slower, all caper farms and Malvasia vineyards; and Stromboli supplies the finale — an evening boat trip to watch the crater flinging lava into the dark. Swimming is off black sand and warm rock into deep, clear blue. Hydrofoils run from Milazzo; go in June or September.

An Atlantic archipelago off West Africa where the beaches, the wind and the music all deserve top billing. Sal has the classic resort sands of Santa Maria and near-guaranteed sunshine; Boa Vista is essentially a desert island with fifty-five kilometres of beach and nesting turtles; São Vicente adds Mindelo's live-music bars for the final act. Short internal flights link the trio. November to June is driest — and do develop a taste for grogue, the local rum.

Malaysia's east-coast islands stay gloriously under-visited: the tiny Perhentians for jungle-backed coves and turtles grazing just off the sand, Redang for powder-white beaches with resort comforts, and Tioman — further south — for waterfalls and house reefs you can snorkel before breakfast. Boats and short mainland hops connect the dots. Crucially, this coast runs on the opposite monsoon to much of Asia: come between March and September, when the South China Sea sits flat and clear.