Our story
Some inherit a house. We inherited the sea.
Our story
He knew every current, every cave, every forgotten cove of the archipelago. You never found him at home: you found him at the harbour, out at sea, or tucked inside an inlet checking a customer's anchor. The Tremiti were his mental map — the names of the rocks, the right hours for Bue Marino, the precise point where the wind turns north-west.
They called him The Octopus — Il Polpo — because he seemed to have a tentacle in every corner of the sea. An early-morning phone call, a hand on the helm of a stalled boat, the right word to someone unsure of where to drop anchor for lunch. Nothing happened on the water without him knowing.
He had built everything from nothing: a pier, a fleet, a reputation. A boat rental that wasn't a service — it was a way of being in the world. The Tremiti seen from the sea, told by someone who had grown up on them.
When he passed away, he left behind two children and a promise. Valentina and Lorenzo. And a very clear idea of what it means to take care of a piece of sea.
The logo
The logo isn't a drawing. It's a family.
The octopus
Our father. The founder. The one who taught us how to read the sea.
Teal tentacle
Valentina.
Blue tentacle
Lorenzo.
The blue eyes
Always present. Always watching over every boat, every customer, every sunset.
The two halves
The Polpo's two children. The present — and the future — of this rental.
Twenty years old, two tentacles, no off-switch.
Bookings, customer care, the August calendar by heart. If the phone rings twice and someone picks up, it's usually her. She learned the sea as a child, sitting at the bow while her father explained the routes. Now those routes are hers to tell.
Maintenance, engines, harbour shifts.
He looks after the fleet: checks, fuel, the small repairs that make the difference between a rough day and a perfect one. He's the one who shows you how to start the engine without making you feel like a tourist. The same care for detail his father had — you can see it.
Our sea
We weren't born at the Tremiti by chance. We grew up here. We know the difference between the coves that empty out at four in the afternoon and the ones that fill with boats at the same hour. We know where the water stays calm in a north-westerly and where you have to run from the first sign of a sirocco.
When we suggest a route, we aren't reading from a guidebook. We're telling you what we would do today, with this wind and this light. It's the most valuable thing we can give you — more than the boat itself.
