Capri

Limestone, and what it does

Volcanic islands weather into soft shoulders and dark sand. Limestone does the opposite: it fractures along vertical joints, so this coast drops rather than slopes, and swimming mostly means a shingle platform or a ladder bolted to rock. Sea stacks stand off the south-eastern shore for the same reason — water took the weak lines and left the strong ones.

Caves are the other consequence, because limestone dissolves. The most celebrated of them is entered by small boat through a gap barely larger than the boat, and its light arrives underwater, which is why the colour photographs badly and stays with you anyway. Swell shuts the entrance without notice, so build no day around it.

An island stacked vertically

Arrival is at sea level and almost nothing else is. A funicular lifts you from the harbour to the main town on its saddle high above the water, a cliff road climbs on to the village on the island's upper shelf, and a chairlift runs from there to the high point, where the whole Bay of Naples arranges itself below.

The day-trip tide

Ferries land through the morning, and for a few hours the island carries far more people than live on it, nearly all of them on one small footprint of harbour, funicular and main square. By late afternoon the boats have taken them home. Staying overnight changes this place considerably.

When to come

May, June and September are the months that work. Late spring gives green hillsides and paths walkable before the heat settles in, and by June the sea has warmed enough to be a pleasure rather than a dare. September reverses the trade: water still holding the summer's heat, day-trip volume slackening, evenings long enough to eat outside.

Couples usually do well in September, when the island has stopped performing quite so hard. Walkers should take May, before the paths become an endurance event.

Is Capri expensive?

It can be, and the mechanism is specific rather than general. Scarcity here is physical — very little flat ground, a large seasonal population, a fixed number of rooms and tables. Cost concentrates where that pressure is highest: the main square in peak weeks, the boutique streets, the front tables anywhere with a view of the stacks.

Step out of the pressure and the island moderates. Up on the shelf the character is residential and the prices follow, a room a few streets back trades a view for a real saving, and lunch where the staff are eating too costs what lunch costs anywhere in Campania.

Where to stay

Splurge

A cliff-edge property with terraces stepping down toward the water, a pool cut into the rock, and a boat available when you want one. What the top tier sells here is a private piece of a very public island. Right for honeymoons, and for anyone whose plan is largely to look at the sea.

Mid-range

A small hotel with a garden and a handful of rooms, set back from the main square or up among the houses on the upper shelf. Breakfast under a pergola, a short walk to everything, and enough left over for a day at sea. Most travellers should start here.

Good value

Simple rooms in a family-run guesthouse away from the centre, where ordinary life carries on regardless of the ferries. Swimming spots are open to anybody, the walking paths cost nothing, and the island after dark looks the same whichever bed you booked.

What earns its keep

A boat circuit of the coastline, which shows the shape of the place — grottoes, arches, the stacks from below, a swim somewhere with no path down to it. The chairlift, for a view that makes the geology obvious. Cliff paths out to the natural arch and the Roman imperial ruins at the north-eastern end, which thin out fast once the climbing starts. And an hour in the little square under the clock tower after the last ferry has gone.

Because the supply of rooms here is genuinely finite and the good ones go early, comparing current stay and experience options well before you fix dates is the sensible approach.

At a glance