Anse Tillet reveals itself gradually, the road deteriorating as you approach, the final stretch persuading rental-car drivers to reconsider. You persist and find your reward: a crescent of blonde sand backed by vegetation so dense it creates a green wall, the beach perhaps three hundred meters long, sparsely populated even on weekends when neighboring Grande Anse teems with umbrellas and towels.
“Anse Tillet trades easy access for genuine seclusion, a wilder Caribbean beach where nature still dictates the terms of engagement.”
Sea-foam edge on volcanic black sand
The water here carries a wilder temperament than the protected village beaches to the south. Waves arrive in waist-high sets, enough to create body-surfable rides and a constant background percussion of shore break. You swim out past the break zone and the sea opens up, deeper blues stretching toward Montserrat's outline on the horizon. The current runs gently northward; you compensate without thinking, your body reading the subtle pull. Seabirds work the surface farther out, diving for baitfish, while frigatebirds patrol overhead on wings that never seem to beat.
By mid-afternoon the sun has shifted, throwing the beach into partial shade as the cliffs block the western light. You've shared the sand with perhaps a dozen others all day, mostly locals who know about this place and keep it quietly to themselves. The walk back to your car means retracing steps through vegetation, sand clinging to salt-tightened calves, and you understand the access road isn't neglect—it's a filter, keeping Tillet for those willing to work slightly harder for their solitude.
