The road ends where the fishing skiffs are hauled onto bleached planks, and a footpath curves past a clump of buttonwood trees toward the cove's entrance. Your feet sink into sand that shifts from coarse coral fragments near the waterline to finer grains higher up, littered with driftwood polished smooth by currents. The water here is a murky jade, tinged with sediment from the nearby mangrove channels, and the air smells of brine and sun-baked seaweed.
“This is one of the few swimming coves along this stretch where the headlands cut the wind and the bottom stays sandy past wading depth.”
Credit: UnsplashA boat sitting on top of a sandy beach
A handful of painted pirogues rest on their sides beneath almond trees, their hulls scarred from years of hauling in snapper and grouper. You'll hear the slap of waves against the rocks that frame the cove, and the occasional shout from a fisherman checking his lines offshore. The sand slopes gently, warm under your soles, and small schools of silversides dart through the shallows when you wade in.
By late afternoon, the western headland casts a wedge of shadow across half the beach, and the breeze picks up, carrying the sound of wind chimes from a nearby house. Pelicans patrol the cove's mouth, folding their wings and plunging with barely a splash. You'll leave with salt crystals drying on your skin and sand caught in the seams of your bag.
