As anyone who’s ever seen even a snapshot of the Caribbean might expect, the British Virgin Islands are postcard beautiful: blue-blue water, white-white sand, bright green foliage, and multicolored fish. So while the view of one of the more than 60 pristine islands that comprise BVI is probably breathtaking from a cruise ship deck chair or the steps of a beach house, it’s difficult to imagine that it appears more paradisiacal than while tacking your way from one island to the next on a sailboat.

For my friends and me, the first stop was the Moorings (moorings.com, 888-952-8420), an international sailboat charter company with a base on Tortola, the largest island in the chain. The six of us boarded a fine vessel — the 40-foot monohull Easy Does It — and set sail for nine days of coastal cruising. Since we were counting our pennies and had an experienced skipper among us, we opted for a bareboat charter (approximately $6,000, including food and drink for the trip’s duration), but the Moorings also offers charters that include a skipper and/or a chef. Although we had two heads (toilets, in seafarer’s parlance) and three cabins, bareboat chartering turned out to be a lot like camping: rugged, dirty, and a little dangerous.

The danger became apparent almost immediately. On our first day, after mooring at Peter Island, a private island hideaway that is now an all-inclusive resort favored among the honeymoon set, we attempted to go ashore only to run our dinghy aground on coral. Then there were the sea urchins, which all of us managed to step on, embedding stinging black spines buried deep in our feet. That night, after swabbing vinegar on our soles to ease the stinging, we called the Moorings, which exchanged our punctured dinghy for a new one. But before finally making it ashore for drinks, our group was nearly run over by a silent, fast-moving ferry as we motored our new dinghy to the dock. With the worst of our misadventures behind us, the rest of the trip was, quite literally, smooth sailing.

Indeed, BVI is a maritime paradise. At 10 to 20 knots most of the year, the winds are strong but not overly so; sporadic, daily rain cools the air (and swabs the decks) but rarely hinders sailing; the sea is smooth and so clear that it’s usually easy to spot shallow areas early enough to avoid them. Nonetheless, it’s a good idea to buy a cruising guide that has maps and information on navigation and anchorages for each island. (“The 2007–2008 Cruising Guide to the Virgin Islands: The Complete Guide for Yachtsman, Divers & Watersports Enthusiasts” by Nancy and Simon Scott, $26.95, is a good reference. For complete information and to purchase, visit the Moorings base in Tortola, or go to landfallnavigation.com.)

Yet even the hazards are part of the cruising experience, the sea’s way of indicating you’re not paying close enough attention. Once you begin to practice watchfulness, an awareness of the landscape emerges in a way that it might not during a more leisurely vacation: the color variations in the water, swells that push the boat along, and subtle shifts in the wind.

Of course, there is more to a vacation in BVI than meditating on nature. There is also imbibing and the range of must-see spots at which to do it. On Marina Cay, travelers can climb to the island’s highest point to take in the scenery or a dip in the pool. The menu of drink options — among the area’s best inventions — includes a concoction of rum and cream of coconut blended with fruit juice, called a “painkiller,” or, when blended with Kahlua and crème de cacao, known to locals as a “bushwacker.” On Cane Garden Bay on Tortola, the Callwood Distillery, which has been operating for at least 200 years, sells an all-natural gold rum that the owner swears won’t give you a hangover.

But the highlight of BVI is the coral-and-limestone island of Anegada, known as the “drowned land.” Almost completely surrounded by reef, Anegada is less frequented than the other major islands, partly because its bay entrance is narrow and tricky to navigate. Upon arriving, our group hightailed it to Cow Wreck Beach, where we had the small bar, hammocks, and an endless stretch of white sand nearly all to ourselves. For dinner we returned to the anchorage, where, at the romantic, rustic Anegada Reef Hotel, we watched the sunset and feasted on spiny lobster, caught the same day just off the dock (Anegada Reef Hotel, Setting Point, Anegada, 284-49-58002, anegadareef.com; lobster dinner, $40).

Moments like these made it easy to forget how sunburned and sweaty we were during much of the trip — and also why I was so surprised on uploading photographs from the excursion. “We look so dirty,” I remarked to my friend.

“Yes,” she said. “But we also look so happy.”