It's an odd sight. Here on the jetty at Hula-Hula bar near Hvar, beside the clear pale blue sea beneath the sweltering midday Adriatic sun, and dressed in combat shorts and vest, stands a man honing his snowboarding skills.
Wolf, Hula-Hula's owner, is making a good fist of balancing on a plank and a log. It's a shame to interrupt him, but now that we've found this hidden gem of a hangout, soaking up the sun, reclining on sunloungers, we're ready for a drink.
Champagne cocktails? "We only have a sparkling Austrian," says Wolf (I'm unclear if he means himself or the bottle). "The good stuff comes soon. Have it for €8."
Wolf will need the new stock. Hvar Town is Croatia's party place, just an hour by hydrofoil from its second city, Split, and increasingly attracting affluent island-hoppers who arrive on the floating gin palaces moored off the palm-dotted, bar-lined quayside in the picturesque Venetian port. He'll need all his local Karlovacko beer, too - the town is a prime stop on the backpacking trail. It's also popular with families who come by plane and ferry for the cheap accommodation, innumerable coves and small pebble and shale beaches lapped by calm waters.
The locals are laid back, seemingly unspoiled by tourism. One landlady asked us to pay for our one night stop in the old town when we left the next day: "Just put the cash in my letterbox." She didn't say which one.
But such attitudes can't last. The town is buzzing most nights from May to September (especially in August, when the Italians arrive). Bars and restaurants line the large Venetian piazza and continue down the quay to the Carpe Diem club, Croatia's not so hidden gem, probably its most famous club (and very possibly its most expensive, full of windburnt yachties and sunburnt backpackers, funnelling imported beer and £5 cocktails, dancing to Eurotrash anthems or lounging on Moroccan cushions in the alcoves).
The vibe is reminiscent of a pre-superclub Ibiza Town, albeit smaller, more picturesque and more friendly. Or possibly a pre-Bardot St Tropez. Not surprisingly, the island's dominant hotel chain, Suncanihvar (Suncanihvarhotels.com), has already cottoned on to the possibilities, planning Conran-esque makeovers to attract more high-spenders.
Our first beer is in the Riva (aka the Hvar yacht harbour hotel), Suncanihvar's first makeover, a trendy four-star venture, its sofas set under cream canopies dominating the quayside. Rooms start at £100 a night, but for £2.50 (expensive for Hvar Town) you can while away the hours, perfecting the 100-yard stare across the seductive harbour of bobbing yachts, fishing boats and gin palaces. Don't forget your George Michael Raybans and a white jumper over the shoulders.
The Adriana marina hotel and spa across the harbour has also just reopened, aimed at A-listers judging by the bar of swanky chrome stools, black marble bartop and chic sofas. A five-star change awaits the majestic Venetian-style Palace hotel, which acts seemingly as a buffer to stop the jumble of old homes up the hill from tumbling into the sea. Then there's the sleek Bonj "Les Bains", a spruced-up 1930s bathing deck of stone cabanas and wooden jetties. Suncanihvar also runs "the only four-star campsite in Dalmatia", at Camp Vira (which sounds more like a drag act than a campsite).
Not all Hvar Town is as ostentatiously stylish as the Suncanihvar hotels and bars. There's a newly revamped hostel, the Green Lizard (greenlizard.hr), which the Canadian, Scottish and Aussie backpackers sharing six-pint jugs of draught on the promenade proclaimed clean and cheap, without chores or curfew. But the best bargains are private apartments, a welcome hangover from communist times. As in Greece, "touts" greet you at the bus depot or jetty, with picture books of apartments, most at £10 per bed per night off-season. For the real deal, look for "books" with guests' comments.
We settled for a split-level three-star apartment, with all mod cons, balconies overlooking the bay, TV and en suites for £40pn - "apartment tutti frutti", run by the anglophile, BBC drama-loving Anka Popovic, who happened to be the local travel agent's mum.
It was near the "beach". Well, rocky cove. When Croatians say beach, they mean "area of land by the water". The nearest thing to a beach is on the outlying islets Pakleni Otoci, a pine-forested archipelago buffering the town's harbour, £4 return by water taxi. The best beach is on Parmizana, with sandy stretches flanked by restaurants, its small bay dotted with yachts mooring for lunch. Idyllic, and reasonable: a four-course meal including buttery pasta with lobster and local wine cost £12 a head.
In Hvar Town itself independent restaurants abound, especially by the piazza, flanked by bars and eateries, serving the ubiquitous pasta and pizza, but also local Dalmatian delicacies such as octopus salad, black risotto, boiled langoustines, brodetto fish stew and lobster pasta, usually sided by aubergine and pepper. Above in the winding narrow alleyways of the tiny old town, the Menego tavern (menego.hr) serves its own wine and specialities like drunk figs.
Hvar Town's lack of sandy beaches could be its saving grace. There are no package tour hordes. Most visitors hire a small boat for the day, and find their own pebbly cove. We didn't bother. Hula-Hula was only a short stroll from our apartment. It became our second home.
Curiously, though, it too had caught Hvar's makeoveritis. Last year's postcards show a beach bar with white plastic furniture; now it boasts sky-blue, leather-lined oak recliners, a varnished wooden beachside bar and dinky cubed pine block seats. It looks expensive, but don't be fooled. At least not when Wolf's offering sparkling Austrian for a fiver.
· BA (http://www.ba.com/) flies Gatwick-Split daily from £138.10 inc tax. Split-Hvar ferries cost £3pp. Further information: tzhvar.hr, happyhvar.com, Adriatica.net
