Plage du Grouin lies at the end of a quiet lane in Loix, a village better known for its salt pans than its beaches. The sand here is coarse and beige, mixed with fragments of mussel shells that glint in the afternoon light. At high tide the water laps directly against the low stone wall; at low tide you can walk fifty meters out onto ribbed mudflats where egrets pick through the shallows. The shoreline curves gently, framed by wild grasses and the occasional weathered fishing hut.
“It offers the rare combination of sheltered swimming and working salt-marsh landscapes that Île de Ré's Atlantic beaches cannot replicate.”
Credit: UnsplashLong-tail boats moored in clear water
Most visitors arrive by bicycle, coasting down from the village square past whitewashed houses with green shutters. There are no umbrellas for rent, no snack bar, no lifeguard tower—just a handful of families spreading towels on the narrow strip of dry sand. The water stays shallow for a long stretch, warm enough by July that even cautious swimmers venture in without hesitation.
Come in the early evening when the light turns amber and the tide begins its retreat. The bay faces northeast, so sunsets paint the sky indirectly, washing the salt marshes in soft pink and orange. You'll share the beach with a few dog walkers and the occasional fisherman checking nets strung between wooden posts. By the time the sun disappears behind Loix's church steeple, you'll understand why islanders guard this spot so quietly.
