When I first see Sandy Island from the green hills of Carriacou, I realize I’ve discovered the island I’ve been dreaming about since I was a child. A narrow sliver of brilliant white sand in the clear blue waters well to the north of Grenada, Sandy Island appeals to that hard-wired human instinct to have an island all to yourself – a place that’s small enough to know intimately, yet big enough to yield surprises.
I walk into Hillsborough and hire a water taxi to take me there. My boatman, Leonard, tells me how Sandy Island is a living entity, constantly changing shape and size with currents and storms. In roughly 10 minutes we arrive at an island that is essentially one flawless stretch of sand (bring your own shade, because there isn’t a lot of it). After a brief walk down the beach, I return to the water taxi, get my snorkel gear and plunge into the water, diving down to flirt with the rays and anemones that haunt the reefs fringing this sandy little paradise.