I hated Capri, but then I found this secret Italian island paradise

I hated Capri. I loathed the heaving crowds, the eye-watering prices, the self-conscious posturing and queues for selfies. Fortunately, it was only a day trip, because I couldn't wait to get back to Ischia, where we were staying.

The two islands may be neighbours, but they are very different. While Capri attracts an international yachting crowd, fashionistas, filmmakers, and trust fund babes, Ischia, known for being spensierato (carefree or light-hearted), is where ordinary Italians holiday. It's about 50 minutes from Naples' Molo Beverello ferry terminal to Ischia, where the hydrofoil docks at Porto, the busiest of the island's six towns. Restaurants, cafes, and shops line Via Iasolino, the road that hugs the bay, where excursion boats and pleasure cruisers bob at their moorings.

While the little buses that circumnavigate the island in both directions are cheap, we decide on this visit to hire a car - a transaction that proves delightfully Neapolitan in its casual nature, with no deposit required. We're shown to a shabby Fiat Panda with a capricious gearbox that my husband takes a while to master.

Driving here is not for the faint-hearted. The roads are narrow, the switchbacks steep, and concentration is non-negotiable. But with whitewashed towns like Forio and Lacco Ameno materialising at every bend, and the Bay of Naples with the hazy silhouette of Mount Vesuvius always within sight, it's worth the white-knuckles.

Our hotel is built into a hill that falls steeply to the sea, and from the rooftop terrace is a jaw-dropping view that would command a hefty price tag if it were on Capri. Beyond its postcard ubiquity and cameos in films such as The Talented Mr Ripley and Elena Ferrante's My Brilliant Friend, Castello Aragonese, dating back to the 5th century BCE, has been a military fortress, royal residence, prison and orphanage. It fell into long neglect before being bought and laboriously restored, reopening to visitors in the 1980s. Today, it hosts a hotel, cathedral ruins, a restaurant, bar and the private residence of the descendants of the Mattera family, who purchased it in 1912.

The terrace of our room has its own noteworthy view - over the bay of Cartaromana, where the water, a limpid blue-green, is dramatically pierced by volcanic rock formations with wooden platforms for sunbathing or diving. Picturesque little bays like this are found all over the island, many, like La Scannella or Spiaggia di Varulo, best reached by taxi-boat. But Ischia holds an ace Capri doesn't - plenty of proper sandy beaches if scrambling over rocks doesn't appeal. Like the three-kilometre sweep of the Maronti, the sandy coves of Citara, Cava dell'Isola, or the family-friendly Fisherman's Beach overlooking the Castello.

Ischia's hilly terrain and 34 kilometres of coastline mean there are many places for sea-view dining, from family-owned trattorias to Michelin-starred restaurants. In the pretty fishing village of Sant'Angelo, where cobblestone streets wind down a hill lined with pastel houses, we lunch so close to the sea we can brush our breadcrumbs off the table straight into the water.

The seafood on the island is, naturally enough, exceptional, and over the course of our stay, we eat spaghetti with tiny clams, sweet red prawns grilled over an open flame, fravagli (local small fish, fried in a light batter), stuffed squid, and grilled sea bass - all perfect with a glass of Biancolella, the island's crisp, food-friendly white.

In hinterland Ischia, where the terraced hillsides host vegetable gardens, groves of lemon trees, olives, figs and rows of grapevines, a speciality is coniglio all'Ischitana, wild rabbit cooked low and slow with wine, herbs and tomatoes in an earthenware pot, the local red, Piedirosso, a perfect companion. We also can't resist buying a couple of bottles of rucolino to take home. A punchy herbal amaro made from rocket and herbs, it's excellent as a post-dinner digestif.

Ischia's other simple pleasures include hiking to the summit of Mount Epomeo, tasting limoncello at the island distillery, or joining the evening passeggiata, gelato in hand. The laid-back locals, natural beauty and lack of pretension are what keep drawing me back to Ischia, while I've yet to have the urge to hop on a boat to revisit Capri. Because, as far as I'm concerned, Ischia lives la dolce vita, while Capri, polished, performative and pricey, just sells it.

The writer travelled at her own expense