The Virgin Islands are blessed with dozens of alluring white-sand beaches, many of which are accessible only from the sea. They are especially remarkable in that they contradict the Caribbean norm: Flat coral islands have fine beaches; scenic mountainous islands do not. Many of the Virgin Islands rise abruptly from the ocean to heights of 1,500 feet or more, but the quality of the sand and the water is unimpaired.
Deadman’s Beach on Peter Island is a classic stretch of glistening white sand backed by palms. But what makes it special is the view across the Sir Francis Drake Passage, one of the great sailing grounds of the Caribbean, to Tortola and the green, hummocky islands of the surrounding archipelago.
The west coast of Virgin Gorda is scalloped by a series of idyllic bays. Among them, pristine Savannah Bay has more than its fair share of admirers. But the perfect crescent of white sand at nearby Little Dix encloses an expanse of turquoise water so calm and limpid that it is sometimes hard to believe that it is actually the sea and not some vast saltwater swimming pool.
Anguilla is a flat, scrubby island of little scenic distinction, but it is surrounded by some of the finest beaches in the world. The white sand is so powdery that when you rub it on your skin there is scarcely any feeling of abrasion; throw a handful into the sea and it doesn’t sink, but spreads out into a milky mist. Twenty-five years ago, Shoal Bay had my vote for the title of Best Beach in the Caribbean. It is still beautiful, but there are now small hotels and beach bars, some of which are undistinguished. Maundays Bay, however, remains a scarcely believable expanse of white sand, which, on a sunny day, is impossible to look at without dark glasses. Despite being backed by Cap Juluca resort, it retains a timeless desert-island quality.
The picturesque island of St. Barths is ringed by seductive bays, and devotees can become quite heated when discussing their respective merits. Personally, I find it hard to adjudicate, but forced to make a decision, I would opt for the lovely, secluded Anse du Gouverneur on the island’s southern coast. Rarely crowded, it offers blissful swimming, as well as hypnotic views of the volcanic islands of Saba and Sint Eustatius.
Barbuda lies just 27 miles north of its sister island, Antigua, but despite the proximity and political connection, the two places could scarcely be more different. Antigua is a bustling tourist island with a busy international airport, while Barbuda has just 1,350 inhabitants and considerably more frigatebirds than people. Why Barbuda has remained undeveloped is superficially something of a mystery, as its west coast boasts a peerless 11-mile stretch of deserted white/pink sand. Resorts have been built on Barbuda, but they don’t tend to last very long. Only Coco Point Lodge seems to endure, and this, too, is currently in need of investment. But whatever the cause of the island’s economic problems, the standard of the silica is certainly not to blame. A local cynic once told me that the politicians on Antigua like to keep all the money from tourism for themselves, but I really can’t believe that they could be so selfish!
The promotional literature invariably claims that Antigua has 365 beaches, one for every day of the year. The total seems suspiciously convenient to me, but I’ve never taken the trouble to count. It is undeniable, however, that the island is blessed with dozens of enticing white-sand bays. The Antiguans themselves frequently extoll the merits of Dickenson Bay, but it is too noisy and developed for my taste. Half Moon Bay on the Atlantic coast has exquisite sand, but the sea is suitable only for windsurfing. I have always nurtured a slightly perverse affection for the beach at Carlisle Bay, which is a serene crescent enclosed by low hills, but unlike virtually every other beach on Antigua, its sand is golden rather than white. So I will take my cue from the Japanese, who prefer their ceramics to contain an interesting imperfection, and opt for the blinding expanse of Hermitage Bay, even though a coral shelf makes access to the sea slightly problematic for about 50 percent of its length.
Some might quarrel with my inclusion of St. James Beach on this list. Once it was home to Claudette Colbert, who, for 30 years until her death in 1996, lived overlooking the sands at her 18th-century mansion, Bellerive. But today, St. James is mostly built-up, crowded in places, and plagued by the infuriating whine of jet skis. On the plus side, the white sand is soft, the water is inviting and, on weekends especially, there is a harmonious mix of visitors and local Bajan families. Ultimately, the reason I like St. James Beach is because it is a place I associate with people having a conspicuously good time.
Longtime readers of The Hideaway Report will know that the Grenadines exert a particularly strong hold over my affections. A string of microdots that extends for 50 miles south of St. Vincent, they offer the best sailing and diving in the Caribbean amid surroundings of extraordinary beauty. They also feel remote and otherworldly, far from the news headlines and our contemporary tribulations. Canouan Resort at Carenage Bay has had a checkered history — until recently it was a Raffles property and before that it was part of the St. Regis portfolio — but its natural setting is glorious. Godahl Beach has powdery white sand and looks out across a dazzling turquoise lagoon bounded by a long coral reef. Beyond, the sea is scattered with atolls, rocky outcrops and numerous tiny islands.
The Tobago Cays comprise five uninhabited islands that enclose the most complex coral reef system in the Windward Islands. (Johnny Depp was marooned on Petit Tabac in “Pirates of the Caribbean.”) A favorite anchorage of cruising yachtsmen, the reef has suffered damage from illegal spearfishing, and it can only be hoped that a new marine park will help to preserve their unearthly beauty. The beaches are incomparably lovely, but if obliged to choose, I would single out Jamesby Island beach as the most idyllic of all.
There are few things in life more delightful than a tranquil and leisurely stroll along a tropical white-sand beach. Grand Anse is close to Grenada’s capital, St. George’s — the most picturesque harbor in the Caribbean, with apologies to Gustavia in St. Barths— but it is never crowded. Yes, there is the occasional cruise ship and one or two vendors can be persistent, but walk a few hundred yards and you are sure to find yourself alone. Grand Anse provides two miles of flawless white sand and you can stop for a dip just about anywhere. When I lie back in the warm water and stare at the blue sky overhead, I invariably hear a small voice saying, “Well, I sure could get used to this!”
Andrew Harper members have access to full travel-planning services through Andrew Harper Travel.
1 (800) 375-4685
Open M-F 8:30AM-5:30PM CT
