I can honestly say that I was terrified when I first went to Little Bay!

Last year a visiting friend and I investigated the bay for the first time. We had trouble finding the rope to help guide us down the steep path to the waiting golden sand. A very nimble gentleman we met at the top of the cliff showed us and even took our bags down to the beach for us. He made the descent look very easy but we realized why he helped us when we tried to follow him down.

Fishermen on Little Bay

I think that fear grows as we get older. When we are children we do not understand all the possibilities of an action and so are fearless in the face of danger. When we grow up we know, for example, that if you let go of the rope at Little Bay you fall a considerable distance, bashing yourself on the cliff face as you do so. An alarming thought indeed!

Gingerly we descended and, of course, I slipped and was left clutching the rope, my only life line, as I crashed against the jagged rock. Not pleasant, particularly when I realized that I had to get up the path again to go home. As I mopped the blood and looked ruefully at the cuts and bruises I had sustained, I thought longingly of the ferry boat from Crocus Bay, which we had decided to forego in the spirit of adventure only mad forty-something Brits think logical!

Luckily for me, the sea was good for my mistreated body and as I bobbed in the healing water I became aware of the considerable activity on the beach. Fishermen had thrown out a long net and were now hauling it and its catch on to the beach.

Anyone who has been to Little Bay knows that it is aptly named. Its waters are snorkelling heaven but a group of ten people is a crowd on the tiny crescent of sand beneath the steep cliffs. That day there were several fishermen, one of whom turned out to be our kind, nimble gentleman from the top of the path, a number of visitors and lots of fish so the beach was packed. Watching the fishermen haul in the nets, which must have weighed a considerable amount, I realized that I was witnessing an action that was firmly entrenched in time. Islanders have been fishing here for generations.

My brother and I went down to Katouche Bay for a walk the other day. It is a place I rarely remember in the general hustle and bustle of everyday life, but when I do visit I am always awed by its raw beauty.

The surf that day was spectacular with huge waves crashing onto the rocks. We had fun dodging out of the way so as not to get too wet!

Surf on Katouche Beach

The place has a rugged unspoilt charm that is all Anguillian. Behind the beach is the forest which stretches and covers the whole Katouche Valley. Patches of sea grape, which hide the paths to the salt pond and the remains of an abandoned village, fringe the shore line.

The beach was deserted and we wandered along taking photographs of the scenery and watching our footprints disappear into the surf. The sounds of the sea swirling about the craggy rocks filled the air and a lone brown pelican flew above the water looking for food. The whole instilled a sense of peace and satisfaction with the world that was helped along by the fact that the sun shone warmly in the clear, blue sky.
We thought that we would go for a swim on Shoal Bay East when the surf subsided and it dawned another lovely day. I have not been there for some time although we live only a short distance from the bay. My eyes alighted first on the ‘Do Not Park – Tow Away Zone’ signs which have gone up in the area just along from the pay car park which was introduced last year. I wonder if this beach is becoming a victim of its own popularity, and businesses there are endeavouring to turn some visitors away as there are too many. Certainly the first impression I received was not as welcoming as it once was.

We went down onto the firm white sand and snorkelled amongst the shoals which give the bay its name. My brother was thrilled to see a very large grouper pop out from under a reef shelter and made me jump when he tapped me excitedly on the foot to show me!

Later we sat and watched the world go by. I noted that between four and five o’clock on a weekday it appeared that Shoal Bay East becomes a haven for joggers. Individuals of all ages and shapes puffed past us, some red faced and clearly new to the joys of running in unaccustomed heat.

Reflecting on my visits to beaches on Anguilla, I realize that they are an integral part of life here and have always been so. Some are more popular than others but people have historically settled near the beaches and now use them for recreation, tourism or to make a living. If Anguilla lost its picturesque stretches of enticing sand the effects would be felt immediately and so it would seem that indeed, we really do need the island’s beaches.

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