A WINNING BREAK FOR SPORTY FAMILIES
ABOTTLE of ouzo sits on the bar. the first guest to stab a map in the right place and locate lemnos gets to walk away with the anise-infused tipple. It’s a playful wheeze that hotel manager George enjoys. ‘Maybe one in 50 get it right,’ he tells me.
even so, George’s guests keep returning. Just because they can’t plot it on a map doesn’t mean they’re not having fun.
lemnos sits high in the northern Aegean, some 50 miles west of the turkish Dardanelles. Mark Warner first pitched up here in 1996, but left a decade later after a row over refurbishment.
three years ago, the company returned and hasn’t looked back.
Now in its 43rd year, it promises sports on tap, great food and, crucially, top- notch childcare, all included in the price. We brits seem to love it. but just remember, it’s very british.
We size up our fellow guests waiting for the coach transfer from the airport and find a sporty-looking bunch, mostly with children aged from around five to early teens, a little older than our daughters, belle, nearly four, and Cleo, 15 months.
What becomes pretty clear from the high fives and handshakes is that lots of them have met before, if not here, then at the company’s other resorts, which are scattered across europe.
this one nudges up to Plati bay, a crescent-shaped sweep of beach on the island’s south-west coast.
the hotel itself has a villagey feel, with rooms overlooking the swimming pool, tennis courts, purposebuilt nursery and entertainment/ dining complex. the beach-to-room trek takes just minutes, but the hillside setting can leave you out of breath.
Much is made of the holiday’s sporty side. Should you wish to take three tennis sets off the bloke next door and hone your sailing technique before the sun gets high and hot, you’re in the right place, with gym-honed instructors, in baywatch red, on hand.
Plenty of our fellow holidaymakers arrive in the airy lunch hall every day doing a good impression of bear Grylls, all ruffled hair and rosy cheeks, having spent the morning thrashing around on sailboats.
REASSURINGLY, others spend the week pool-side, nursing their Kindles and raising prosecco to their lips. like most guests with young children, we’re omewhere in the middle. We manage to thwack some tennis balls, sail out on a kayak and shop in pretty nearby Myrina. We ruffle our hair a bit before lunch one
day so as not to look like we’re shirk-ing from the athleticism. Constantly bumping into the same faces at the thrice-daily meals feels a little awkward at first. Everyone is terribly polite, and it isn’t until a resort-drenching raincloud descends mid-week — and forces more inter-acti on — that everybody seems to relax. We’ve got the weather to talk about now. The mostly Mediterranean cuisine proves a universal hit. Gourmands baulk at buffets, but this is as deli-ci us and varied as large- scale catering comes. Freshly-hooked snapper, seared by a smiling chef and
served up with tzatziki and courgette fritters is a typical plate. Does the included wine make the grade? Not really, but no matter, it’s quaffable enough. The real re- booking clincher through is the childcare, which is brilliant and easily rivals the best UK day nurseries. Belle loves the carousel of face-painting, swimming games and slumber parties, and you can tap into as much or as little of it as you need to, which is hugely appealing. Entertainment for Cleo, our young-est — wriggler extraordinaire — proves trickier. She’s too tiny for the all day sessions, so we keep her with us and thus spend plenty of time stopping her from wandering into the pool, waddling towards marble staircases and throwing spaghetti at dinner. Evenings settle into a comfy rou-tine ; an unfettered view of the tan-geri ne sun over Plati Bay; our eldest watching a film with new friends; the youngest sitting still just long enough for us to eat.
Gaggles of younger teens gather round the pool, loving the relative independence from their parents. There are quizzes, discos and quieter nights and, as the wine flows, we learn all about the careers of our fellow guests; if we need a doctor (or a lawyer, or a banker) we’ll be all right here, I fancy.
When the heavens open, we wince at the thought of being holed up indoors all day and break free via a tiny hire car.
It feels like the whole island had been gifted to us. Dawdling sheep, a lone beekeeper, the cobalt Aegean and, 12 miles north in Gomati, sand dunes carpeted with wild flowers.
The 21st century hasn’t really happened yet for much of Lemnos. But it’s very much to the fore at the Warner resort.
A potent combination, in other words.