Culebra or St Croix?

Culebra wins because of one beach. Flamenco is the kind of bay people cross the sea for: a full curve of pale sand, sheltered enough for an easy swim on most days, and good enough that many visitors never look further. The island's other advantage is how close everything is. Reef and seagrass begin a few metres out from the beaches near Dewey, so you can snorkel without a boat, and the island is small enough that the far beaches are a short trip away. The cost is comfort, because you bring your own shade.

St Croix has no single bay of that standard, but it has a wider choice spread around the coast. There are calm sunset swims on the west end near Frederiksted, the protected sand of Sandy Point, the north shore's snorkelling at Cane Bay and small coves over the hills east of Christiansted. Because they are scattered, most beach days start with a drive, and the island's whitest sand, on Buck Island, needs a boat.

St Croix eats far better. Crucian cooking, with johnny cakes, pates, kallaloo, goat stew with fungi and Indo-Caribbean roti, is worth seeking out at roadside stands. Christiansted adds a run of boardwalk restaurants and a little fine dining, and you can visit rum distilleries near Frederiksted.

On Culebra, food is mainly a matter of keeping fed. A handful of seafood places and food trucks in Dewey serve mofongo and fried snacks, menus shrink when the ferry brings less, and many visitors cook for themselves from the grocery stores.

Culebra has almost no sightseeing beyond Dewey's canal and drawbridge, a small museum in the old navy powder magazine and the ruined lighthouse on Culebrita. Its history is the naval bombing range, and you mostly see it in the tanks on Flamenco.

St Croix has a real, if compact, heritage. There is Danish colonial Christiansted with its ochre ramparts and Customs House, the red fort at Frederiksted where emancipation was proclaimed, sugar mill ruins across the hills, and the Salt River landing site from Columbus's voyage. It fills a couple of days well.

Neither island has clubs, but St Croix at least has an evening scene. Its courtyard and boardwalk bars in Christiansted draw sailors and locals, and Frederiksted livens up when a cruise ship is in. On Culebra, a sunset drink at a waterside bar near the Dewey ferry dock, with the occasional weekend band, is the whole of it.

The two are broadly level, and on both the best of nature is underwater. Culebra has the Luis Pena marine reserve and green turtles off Tamarindo and Carlos Rosario. Much of the island and its cays form a wildlife refuge, with large seabird colonies on the outer cays.

St Croix offers more variety. You can follow the marked coral trail at Buck Island, dive the Cane Bay wall straight from the beach, kayak through bioluminescent water at night in Salt River Bay, and walk a small patch of rainforest in the north-west. Culebra's land, by contrast, is low, dry scrub.

On Culebra, the outings are mostly boat trips to Culebrita and the uninhabited cays. These take you to empty islands rather than to other places. Vieques and Fajardo look close on a map, but neither is easy to reach in a day, so most visitors stay on the island.

St Croix has a little more range. Its two towns sit at opposite ends of the island, so a day in Frederiksted from a base in Christiansted, or the other way round, feels like a real change of scene. Beyond the island, a seaplane reaches St Thomas in about twenty minutes, and St John's national park beaches are a further ferry ride from there. Either trip takes a full day and is fairly expensive.

For families the two are much alike: calm shallow water, easy first snorkels and nothing built for children. The difference lies in the logistics. Culebra means a ferry or small plane and limited medical care, which suits school-age children who love the sea. On St Croix, the resort and villa pools, a fort to explore and no passports for American families make it easier with younger children, though every outing needs the car.

Both are awkward in different ways. On Culebra, the effort is in arriving, by a ferry from Ceiba that fills up and runs late, or a small plane. Once there, Dewey is walkable, shared vans run to Flamenco and a golf cart covers the rest.

St Croix is simpler to reach but bigger to cover. You need a hire car, drive on the left on roads that range from highway to potholed lane, and allow about forty minutes between the two towns.

Shopping is minor on both islands, but St Croix has more to browse. Christiansted's arcades have jewellers making the Crucian hook bracelet, Caribbean art galleries, and shops selling rum and hot sauce. Culebra offers a few beachwear shops and local painters in Dewey, and little else, so bring what you need.

Neither island is cheap, as both ship nearly everything in and charge US prices or more. Culebra comes out a little gentler, because you can get by without a car, the ferry is inexpensive and self-catering rentals are the norm.

On St Croix, the hire car is a fixed daily cost, restaurants and supermarkets cost more than on the mainland, and beachfront places are priced for winter. Local food stands and guesthouses in Christiansted help bring the bill down.

St Croix has a living tradition of its own. There is quelbe scratch-band music and the stilt-walking mocko jumbies, best seen at the Crucian Christmas Festival or the winter agricultural fair, and Frederiksted holds open-air jazz by the water. Culebra has a weekend bar band and its yearly patron saint festival, and no stage at all.

On Culebra, rest comes almost entirely from the quiet. There are no big resorts, little traffic and long empty afternoons, and the only extras are a yoga session at a guesthouse or a visit from an independent massage therapist.

St Croix has the same unhurried pace with a little more on offer. There are a few resort spas and massage studios, the West End is quiet, and the villas on the east end hills make it easy to do very little. If you want thermal baths or a proper retreat programme, you will find little on either island.