I used to think I knew what luxury was.
I thought it was a corner suite at the Hotel du Cap-Eden-Roc. I thought it was a private villa in St. Barths with an infinity pool that seemed to drop off the edge of the earth. I thought it was having a concierge who knew my coffee order before I walked up to the desk.
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| Most superyachts can't reach this beach: The 1.6-meter secret that changes everything |
Then, I spent a week on an ISA yacht in the Mediterranean, and everything changed.
It wasn’t just the gold-plated faucets or the crew members who seemed to materialize out of thin air with a fresh towel exactly three seconds after I exited the water. It was something specific, something technical, and something almost no travel agent ever mentions.
It was a number: 1.6 meters.
This is the story of how a specific type of Italian engineering didn't just upgrade my vacation—it fundamentally broke my ability to enjoy a regular hotel ever again. If you’ve ever wondered what it’s actually like to charter a superyacht—not the glossy brochure version, but the vibrating, salt-sprayed, terrifyingly expensive reality—strap in. We’re going to 30 knots.
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| Most superyachts can't reach this beach: The 1.6-meter secret that changes everything |
The "Shoes Off" Moment
The psychology of a superyacht charter begins before you even leave the dock.
We arrived in Porto Cervo, Sardinia, the air thick with the scent of pine and money. The marina here is a parking lot for billionaires, a Tetris game of floating palaces. But walking down the quay, our boat stood out.
It was an ISA 120 Sport. Unlike the floating wedding cakes surrounding it—those three-deck, high-volume displacement yachts that look like apartment blocks—the ISA looked like a silver bullet. It was low, sleek, and aggressive. It looked fast standing still.
I walked up the passerelle (the gangway), and there, standing in a crisp white uniform, was the chief stew. She smiled, handed me a cold towel scented with lemongrass, and pointed to a wicker basket.
"Shoes, please."
This is the initiation. In a hotel, you walk in with your street shoes, dragging the grime of the world onto the marble floors. Here, you leave the world behind. You step onto the teak deck barefoot. The wood is warm, soft, and impeccably clean.
From that moment on, for seven days, I didn't wear shoes.
And that physical connection to the "ground"—the constant tactile feedback of teak underfoot—changes how you move. You don't stomp; you glide. You become part of the vessel.
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| Most superyachts can't reach this beach: The 1.6-meter secret that changes everything |
The Italian "Vibe" vs. The Dutch "Silence"
Italian boats? They are the Ferraris.
ISA (International Shipyards Ancona) builds boats that have a pulse. As we left the marina, the Captain didn't just nudge the throttles; he engaged the waterjets.
Most yachts use propellers. The ISA 120 Sport uses Kamewa waterjets. When the engines—three massive MTUs engaging 2,400 horsepower each—spooled up, the boat didn't shudder. It hummed.
A traditional propeller pushes a boat. A waterjet shoots it.
We hit the open water, and the Captain dropped the hammer. The sensation wasn't like a cruise ship; it was like a plane taking off. We hit 30 knots (about 35 mph) in seconds. Behind us, a massive "rooster tail" of water arced twenty feet into the air—an ISA signature.
I sat on the aft deck, a Negroni in hand (because when in Italy...), and watched the coastline of Sardinia blur. On a displacement yacht, it would take three hours to get to the Magdalen Islands. We were going to be there in 45 minutes.
This is the first lesson of the ISA charter: Time is the ultimate luxury. Speed doesn't just mean going fast; it means you can have breakfast in Porto Cervo, lunch in Corsica, and dinner back in Sardinia, without spending the whole day at sea.
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| Most superyachts can't reach this beach: The 1.6-meter secret that changes everything |
The 1.6-Meter Secret: Why Draft Matters
Here is the "high information gain" secret that justifies the title of this article.
Most superyachts of this size (37 meters / 120 feet) have a draft of about 2.5 to 3 meters. "Draft" is how deep the boat sits in the water. A deep draft means you are stable, but you are limited. You have to anchor far offshore, away from the rocks, away from the beach.
The ISA 120 Sport, because of its planing hull and waterjet propulsion (no propellers hanging down to hit the bottom), has a draft of just 1.6 meters.
Why does this matter?
On Day 3, we approached Cala Coticcio on the island of Caprera. It’s often called "Tahiti" because the water is a blinding, impossible turquoise.
There were three other yachts there. A massive 60-meter Benetti and two sailing yachts. They were anchored nearly a mile out, their guests looking like ants as they bobbed in small tenders trying to get to the beach.
Our Captain looked at the chart, smiled, and drove us in.
We glided past the big boys. We kept going. The water turned from deep blue to cyan to clear glass. I looked over the side and could count the grains of sand on the bottom.
We dropped anchor in 4 meters of water, just a stone's throw from the rocks.
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| Most superyachts can't reach this beach: The 1.6-meter secret that changes everything |
We were effectively inside the swimming pool.
This is the difference. A hotel gives you a view of the beach. A deep-draft yacht gets you near the beach. The ISA put us in the beach.
That 1.6-meter number allowed us to access coves in Corsica—like the shallow bays of the Lavezzi archipelago—that are usually the territory of small day boats. But we were there in a 120-foot superyacht with a private chef and air conditioning.
It felt like cheating. It felt like we had a backstage pass to the Mediterranean.
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| Most superyachts can't reach this beach: The 1.6-meter secret that changes everything |
The Split-Level Revolution
ISA yachts are famous for a design quirk that I didn't understand until I lived with it: the split-level aft deck.
On a normal yacht, the back of the boat (the aft deck) is a flat space with a dining table. Then you go down some steep stairs to the "swim platform" (the bit near the water).
On the ISA, these areas are connected by a grand, sweeping staircase that feels more like a terraced garden. The sunpads on the upper level flow down to the beach club on the lower level.
This architecture changes the social dynamic. It eliminates the "segregation" between those swimming and those eating.
One afternoon, my friends were jumping off the swim platform, playing with the jet skis. I was sitting "upstairs" at the dining table, working on my laptop (the Wi-Fi, via Starlink, was faster than my office connection).
Because of the split-level design, I wasn't cut off. I could see them, shout at them, and feel involved in the energy, while still being in the shade with my espresso.
It creates a "stadium seating" effect for the ocean. You aren't just observing the water; you are oriented toward it constantly.
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| Most superyachts can't reach this beach: The 1.6-meter secret that changes everything |
The Reality Check: 850 Liters Per Hour
Let's talk about money. Because if I don't, I'm selling you a fantasy.
But that's just the ticket to get on the ride. Then there is the APA (Advance Provisioning Allowance).
The APA is usually 30-35% of the charter fee, paid upfront. This covers fuel, food, dockage, and drinks.
On our first night, the Captain sat me down with a spreadsheet.
"So," he said, tapping a cell on his iPad. "Cruising at 28 knots, we burn about 850 liters of diesel per hour."
I did the mental math. Diesel in the marina was about €2.00 per liter.
That meant every hour we spent at high speed cost us €1,700.
Suddenly, the decision to zip over to Corsica for lunch wasn't just a logistical one; it was a €3,400 round-trip decision.
This adds a weird gamification to the trip. You start watching the fuel gauge like a hawk. You start asking, "Hey Cap, maybe we cruise at 12 knots today?" (At 12 knots, the consumption drops drastically, maybe to 150-200 liters per hour).
But here's the thing: watching that rooster tail kick up behind you, feeling the raw power of 7,000 horses pushing you through the swell... it’s addictive. You pay the money. You burn the dinosaur juice. And you smile.
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| Most superyachts can't reach this beach: The 1.6-meter secret that changes everything |
The Food: Why Michelin Stars Are Overrated
I’m a foodie. I plan my vacations around reservations.
But on the yacht, we canceled three dinner reservations on shore. Why?
Because of Chef Marco.
On a charter, the chef calls you weeks before you arrive. They send you a "preference sheet" that asks psychotically detailed questions.
Do you like your bacon crispy or chewy?
What is your preferred brand of sparkling water?
Are you allergic to cilantro?
How do you take your coffee?
I wrote down that I loved fresh seafood and hated heavy cream sauces.
Every single meal was a sniper shot at my palate.
One morning, the crew bought a fresh red snapper from a local fisherman who pulled up alongside us in a wooden skiff. Two hours later, it was on the table: salt-crusted, baked to perfection, served with a simple salad of tomatoes that tasted like sunshine.
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| Most superyachts can't reach this beach: The 1.6-meter secret that changes everything |
In a restaurant, you are one of 50 tables. The chef is cooking for the average.
On the yacht, the chef is cooking for you.
If we wanted lunch at 4:00 PM because we were busy swimming? No problem.
If we wanted a midnight snack of truffle grilled cheese? It appeared in 15 minutes.
The service on an ISA yacht, particularly with an Italian crew, is different from the Northern European boats. It’s less "Downton Abbey" stiff. It’s warm. It’s loud.
When we were drinking wine on the sundeck, the stewardess didn't just pour it; she told us about the vineyard in Tuscany where she grew up near. When we were deciding where to go, the deckhand argued passionately that we had to see a specific rock formation because it looked like a bear.
They weren't just servants; they were our local guides, our hosts, and by the end of the week, our friends.
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| Most superyachts can't reach this beach: The 1.6-meter secret that changes everything |
The Night Anchored in the "Pool"
The highlight of the trip wasn't the speed or the beach club. It was a moment of stillness.
We were anchored off Budelli, near the famous Pink Beach (Spiaggia Rosa). You can't walk on the beach anymore (it's protected), but you can anchor nearby.
The sun went down. The day trippers in their little rubber boats went home. The ferries stopped running.
Suddenly, we were the only people left.
The Captain turned on the underwater lights.
If you haven't seen high-intensity underwater lights on a superyacht, it's hard to describe. The water around the boat glows a radioactive, electric blue. It attracts fish. Thousands of them.
I sat on the swim platform, feet dangling in the illuminated water, watching a school of needlefish dart through the light. The silence was absolute. No cars. No sirens. Just the gentle lap of water against the hull and the hum of the generator (the heartbeat of the ship).
In a hotel, even the best one, you are sharing the space. You hear the elevator. You hear the people in the hallway.
Here, floating in the dark Mediterranean, you own the horizon.
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| Most superyachts can't reach this beach: The 1.6-meter secret that changes everything |
The Return to Earth
Disembarking was physically painful.
Putting shoes back on felt like putting my feet in prisons. The noise of the taxi to the airport was deafening.
I checked into a nice hotel in Rome for one night before flying home. It was a five-star hotel. It had marble floors. It had a concierge.
But when I walked into the lobby, I didn't feel special. I felt processed.
I went to the room. The view was static.
I ordered room service. It arrived cold.
I realized then what the ISA charter had actually given me. It wasn't just luxury goods. It was agency.
For one week, the world revolved around my whims. If I didn't like the view, we moved the "hotel" to a new bay. If I didn't like the weather, we outran the clouds. If I wanted to swim, the ocean was my doorstep.
The ability to enter those shallow coves—that 1.6-meter privilege—meant I saw a version of the Mediterranean that is usually reserved for locals with small boats, but I saw it from the deck of a superyacht.
I ruined my taste for hotels. I ruined my bank account.
But as I sat in that Roman hotel room, scrolling through photos of the rooster tail spraying water into the sunset, I knew one thing for sure:
I’m going to save every penny I earn. And next summer, I’m going back to the 1.6-meter life.
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| Most superyachts can't reach this beach: The 1.6-meter secret that changes everything |
Practical Guide: How to Charter an ISA Yacht
If this article has ruined you too, here is the practical data you need to make it happen.
1. The Models to Look For
Not all ISAs are the same. For the experience I described, look for these specific models:
ISA 120 Sport: The classic. Fast, shallow draft (1.6m), iconic split-level stairs.
ISA Gran Turismo 45: Newer, slightly more volume, focused on indoor-outdoor flow.
ISA 140 Sport: Bigger, faster, but deeper draft (check the specs if shallow bays are your priority).
Most superyachts can't reach this beach: The 1.6-meter secret that changes everything
2. The Costs Breakdown (Estimated)
Charter Fee: €95,000 (Low Season) / €115,000 (High Season) + VAT.
VAT: Varies by country. Italy is 22%. France is 20%. (Commercial yachts may get exemptions, ask your broker).
APA: 30-35% of the charter fee. Expect to spend about €35,000 - €40,000 on expenses for a week if you cruise fast and eat well.
Crew Gratuity: The unwritten rule is 10-15% of the charter fee. Yes, on top of everything else.
3. Best Itineraries for Shallow Draft
Corsica & Sardinia: The Lavezzi Islands, Cala Coticcio, and the Maddalena Archipelago are perfect for shallow draft boats.
The Bahamas: The Exumas are notoriously shallow. An ISA Sport is one of the few large yachts that can navigate the "skinny water" there effectively.
4. What to Pack
Soft luggage only. Hard suitcases damage the teak and are impossible to store in cabins.
No shoes. Seriously, don't bring heels for the boat. You won't wear them.
Reef-safe sunscreen. The crew will hate you if you use spray tan oil that stains the white cushions.
Bon voyage.