I found Croatia's hidden gems where crowds and influencers were nowhere in sight

We don't speak the same language, but the backflipping 12-year-old splashing between bobbing fishing boats in Brac's sleepy Pucisca port and I clearly share the same idea. Silently stepping over the inert bodies of his mother and her friend - splayed like happy, air drying starfish on the wharf stones - he counts us down with fingers and a cheeky grin.

Three, two, ONE!

We run and dive, splitting the sleepy air with hollers of joy, into water as cooling as a fizzing lemonade. It's an unexpected tonic for both body and soul, a little like this small-ship Croatia cruise itself.

My new cruise friend Gary - the camaraderie among the 34 fellow cruisers on MS My Wish quickly becomes a thing to behold - wasn't expecting me to dive in fully clothed after being instructed: "Hold my hat." But it has been a brain-melting, bone-blistering hot day. Even the hammer on stone from the nearby stonemasonry school that lured us here seems to mimic hollow cries of despair.

But how swiftly a day can somersault. Joining a family diving competition in a map-blip bay on their afternoon splash is just one drop in a cascade of surprises on an Unforgettable Croatia seven-night cruise. We nose into tiny coves, sampling local life, skipping like a sunshine-fuelled, gelato-sustained stone across the islands between Split and Dubrovnik. Or, correction, between Sibenik and Dubrovnik, thanks to a billion-euro port upgrade underway in Split.

Serendipitously just an hour from Split, this amphitheatre-shaped town is a whirlpool of travertine, dribbling down into alleyways, revealing pocket courtyards and an intriguing medicinal monastery garden. It's possibly the sweetest town on the Dalmatian Coast you've never heard of, out-charming superstar Dubrovnik, Split - despite the Diocletian's Palace trump card - and even poetic Trogir with its alluring palm-lined promenade.

Not all initial surprises are so smooth. Yes, I am immediately impressed with my balcony cabin - spacious and modern, with supermarket deep-freeze-level air-con options (essential in midsummer). Likewise with the staff: our intrepid, red-lipsticked and stylish cruise director Biljana Serbo Vujevi and the crew. The captain was born in these islands; his father was a captain, his uncle is a captain, and he knows the "spots" where the crew deploy noodles, kayaks, SUPs and puff the inflatable flamingo into life faster than you can say zivjeli (cheers).

However, as a first-time small-ship cruiser, accustomed to my own company, I am initially overwhelmed by the intimacy of a small cohort and shared mealtime tables (except dinners, which are independently onshore). But these quickly become a highlight. It's a like-minded, travel-loving passenger list that includes a full-time carer, a 50-something semi-retired triathlete, a former US F-16 fighter pilot and a school administrator.

Soon, irrelevant trappings such as jobs are dropped along with towels on the aft deck, where water is the great equaliser and true personalities swim to the surface.

During twice-daily swim stops in aqua water so surreally bright and clear it's akin to diving into a tropical screensaver, one passenger forms an emotional attachment with the inflatable flamingo. Another floats starfish-style like she's undertaking an untethered space walk from the My Wish mothership. We have a cove rock explorer, glamour injections courtesy of our new Brazilian amigas and, near Korcula, I'm deployed with the paddleboard to distribute sangria to the flotilla of noodle floaters. The super-saline Adriatic Sea keeps both spirits and bodies buoyant, but the "floating bar" delivery adds exponential joy.

What renders the trip seamless - I begin losing track of days by, ahem, Day 2 - is that the captain and Biljana know what we don't. For example, a friend grimaced that Krka National Park in summer is horrendous. Even Biljana warns us to "lower your expectations" of our side excursion. Yet all we find are distinctly horror-less dragonflies darting, non-terrifying gurgling rivers and even a school of blissed-out, motionless fish.

What we don't have are crowds, and that's because we arrive upon park opening, exiting by 10am as a tsunami of people surges down the rickety boardwalk. Likewise when leaving Golden Horn beach at 11.30am - a 5 euro, five-minute mini tourist train ride from our port of Bol - it's just as a flurry of beach colonisation crescendos, a lilo being inflated so closely it enters the "in your face" category (because it actually touches my face).

This beach earns a personal pin drop, not because it's fancy - just the opposite. At the southern end, far from the sunbed citadel, it's a microcosm of quotidian life dispensing an hour of cultural power: kids frolic, unfamiliar Slavic accents prevail, there's the pan-European soundtrack of tat-a-tat beach tennis and next-level people watching.

The people-watching ratchets up a notch when we arrive in long-anticipated Hvar town. Strolling at golden hour, we sight wildlife that's been absent all trip: Instagrammers. We've been so cocooned in under-the-radar Croatian stops that rejoining 21st-century tourism is both an assault and a gift to the senses. When offered the option to return to Jelsa - our small but buzzing overnight port half an hour away - none hesitate. For many, Jelsa is their Goldilocks trip moment: the not-too-big, not-too-little town that's just holiday-right.

As another, final, knock-down surprise, company owner Graham Carter appears Houdini-like onboard. He founded Unforgettable Croatia from his living room with his wife and $30,000 in Amex cards. A worthwhile risk: the company has recorded 99 per cent capacity in the past two years and in 2024 opened an office in Australia, with Australians now representing 20 per cent of guests. He's also a small-town Croatia fan. "Dubrovnik's beautiful, Split's beautiful, they've got their UNESCO things," he says. "They're also busy. When you get to places like Jelsa, you feel like you're the only people there. You're more immersed in the destination. And that's the drawcard of smaller ships - that you can get into those little ports and actually experience the charm."

I haven't measured Croatia in UNESCO plaques or postcard angles, but in salt on skin, stone under my feet and the way a place makes me feel quietly, completely alive. The biggest - and simplest - surprise wasn't the gourmet food, the tireless crew or the fine company, but the places that, for a moment, felt completely, unforgettably ours.

The writer was a guest of Unforgettable Croatia