Grand Anse is two and a half kilometres of pale sand on the sheltered west coast of Grenada, below the red roofs of St George's stacked on the headland at its northern end. The island's ridge stands between this bay and the Atlantic, so whatever gets round to a west-facing shore arrives with nothing left in it. The sand stays firm near the water, so you can walk the whole crescent out and back easily, and south toward Quarantine Point the crowd thins fast. At the northern end the vendors grate fresh nutmeg over a rum punch — Grenada's own garnish, from the spice the island lives on. The bay faces due west into open sea, so you get the sun going down into the water with no land in the way.
What the water does out of sight is the surprise. The seabed off this coast drops away steeply, which puts animals that need open-ocean depths within a boat ride of where you are standing. Sperm whales and pilot whales stay here all year in family groups, and humpbacks cross on their winter passage. The boats collect you straight off the beach, and the operators are honest that nothing is guaranteed. Once a year the beach becomes a grandstand. Crews sail in from Gouyave, Woburn, Carriacou and Petite Martinique with five-metre hulls cut from local hardwood and rigged with bamboo masts, and race them in the bay. On the two smaller islands boatbuilding is a two-hundred-year-old trade. The road climbing behind the bay shows it end to end: sand, shallows and the red roofs at the far end. Everything on this coast is built facing east, because that is where the weather comes from. Then in November 1999 a hurricane crossed the Caribbean the other way, west to east, on a track with no precedent in the Atlantic record. It came ashore on Grenada's sheltered side and cut a metre-high sand cliff the length of this beach. It has been called Wrong Way Lenny ever since.