Best things to do in Antigua: dive into paradise with pristine beaches, vibrant Afro-Caribbean culture & secluded island escapes with this travel guide.

Antigua — also lovingly called Waladli or Wadadli by its people — is one of the two jewels of the Caribbean nation Antigua and Barbuda. Nestled in the Lesser Antilles among the Leeward Islands, this compact island may cover just over 100 square miles but it overflows with charm: a remarkable 365 powdery white-sand beaches, fringed by lively coral reefs, await around its shoreline.

Antigua’s story is layered and human. Long before Europeans arrived, the island was home to the Guanahatabey, then the Arawaks, followed by the Caribs. Christopher Columbus sighted and named the island in 1493 and in time it became known as Britain’s “Gateway to the Caribbean,” flourishing on the sugar trade — a history that also carries the painful legacy of slavery and resistance.

Freedom and self-determination slowly reshaped Antigua’s path: it became an associated state within the Commonwealth in 1967 and achieved full independence from Britain in 1981. Today, echoes of the past remain in places like English Harbour, the restored Nelson’s Dockyard and Shirley Heights, a former military lookout that offers sweeping, postcard-perfect views — a lovely reminder that Antigua’s beauty is matched by its rich, resilient history.

Libra season called for a birthday escape and I answered with island time. First stop: sunny Sint Maarten — a Dutch-flavored slice of paradise where sandy beaches, chatty parrot sanctuaries and heart-racing zip lines make every day feel like a storybook. The island’s northern French cousin, Saint Martin — affectionately nicknamed “Coconut Island” — peeks over the border with its own laid-back charm.

Next, I slipped into the wild green of Dominica, a jungle-draped wonderland of cascading waterfalls, steaming hot springs and dramatic gorges, with a dreamy detour up the Indian River, straight out of Pirates of the Caribbean. I finished my birthday tour in Antigua & Barbuda, where endless white sands, gentle tortoise sanctuaries and blissful stingray swims were the perfect way to toast another year.

Enchanting Adventures: Must-Do Experiences in Antigua

Touch Down / Land in Antigua

Nestle Into / Check in to Conch Beach Cabins on Turner’s Beach

Enjoy / Grab a sun-drenched lunch at Darkwood Beach Bar & Restaurant

Experience / Enjoy an unforgettable meal at Sheer Rocks

Cruise / Drive down Fig Tree Lane for local treats

Wander / Discover Laviscount Tortoise Sanctuary on Laviscount Island

Support / Donate to Antigua's Donkey Sanctuary

Catch / Admire breathtaking views at Shirley Heights

Beach Hop / Explore Antigua’s sun-kissed shores

Feast / Dine at Papa Zouk’s in St. John’s

Admire / Set eyes on nearby islands & one last golden sunset

Feed / Eat at The Fox House

Enchanting Adventures: Must-Do Experiences in Antigua

Sun-drenched Antigua and Barbuda boast 365 pristine beaches, turquoise waters and vibrant local culture — perfect for island-hopping, sailing and choosing between luxury resorts or laid-back charm. From historic Nelson’s Dockyard and colorful colonial architecture, to lively Carnival celebrations and world-class snorkeling, the twin islands deliver an unforgettable blend of relaxation and adventure.

Touch Down in Antigua

Getting to Antigua can feel like an adventure — unless you’re hopping over from a neighboring island like I did. The flight from Dominica lasts about 45 minutes and is utterly straightforward. Once you touch down, pick up a car rental at the airport.

Tip / For easy, worry-free exploring, pick up a rental car — you can grab one at the airport for roughly $45 a day. Consider a small SUV — roads can get pretty wild, with narrow, one-way stretches clinging to steep hillsides, so a little extra clearance goes a long way.

Up next: swing by an ATM and grab some cash. The island uses the Eastern Caribbean dollar (EC), like Dominica, and ATMs can be few and far between.

Tip / Straightaway, stop by an ATM in downtown St. John before you wander too far from town. Cash is handy on Antigua for paying local market vendors, beach chair rentals, taxi rides, small food stalls and tipping tour guides.

Leaving St. John's, the road narrows and the landscape slowly gives way to pine-scented air and the distant hush of waves as you drive toward Turner’s Beach or any of the other 364 beaches. If luck is on your side, drift over to the curb for a bite of smoky grilled corn, then set off again with a satisfied smile.

Nestle Into the Cozy Charm of Conch Beach Cabins on Turner’s Beach

Arriving at Conch Beach Cabins feels delightfully hushed. Tucked right on the shoreline, the tiny cabins spill onto the sand, mere steps from the sea. At check-in, I was greeted with a cooling fruit punch and gently led to my cozy cabin that spills directly onto the beach. The small cluster of rustic seaside cabins hugs the southwestern shore of Antigua at Turners Beach — the place feels like a well-kept secret. It’s utterly charming, blissfully calm and exactly the peaceful escape I imagine.

Mornings at the cabin unfurl at their own unhurried pace, as if the whole place has been reserved just for you. I don’t mind — I travel off-season on purpose, chasing those gentle, quiet corners where the world seems to whisper.

The cabins themselves are simple, breezy wooden structures right off the sand — basic comforts, fans and hammocks — with a relaxed, friendly vibe that makes waiting for transport easy to bear.

Tip / If you plan anything by boat, confirm boat schedules in advance or ask the staff early; they’re helpful but the island’s transport can be unpredictable. And one thing’s for sure, Antigua honors island time.

Best of all is the outdoor shower — a rustic little indulgence wrapped in corrugated metal, framed by lush greenery and pouring down a glorious rain-head of water. It’s like having a private spa tucked into the landscape, a sun-warmed sanctuary one could happily linger in every morning.

Each room comes with a simple, satisfying breakfast to kick off the day (once, amusingly, the cook never turned up). The dining area sits only a few dozen feet from the sand — a breezy outdoor café perched above the water with a gorgeous view.

Breakfast arrives like a small celebration: a bright fruit plate — watermelon, pineapple, cantaloupe and honeyed melon — alongside fresh juice, steaming coffee and a fluffy omelette studded with veggies and a side of bacon. Everything was delicious, though the fierce heat had shrunk my appetite, so I couldn’t quite finish. Mosquitoes, however, showed no such restraint; the only remedy was a brisk, no-nonsense application of bug spray (not the gentle, chemical-free variety) and with that, my exit was swift and decisive.

A cozy, thatch-roofed patio peeked out behind my cabin, tucked away by a screen of lush shrubs. I’d imagined it as a private little sanctuary — a perfect spot for morning coffee and quiet reading — but the local insect population had other plans, turning my idyllic hideaway into a lively, bug-populated rendezvous that made lingering a challenge.

Tip / Lather on plenty of bug spray — you don’t want to spend your trip swatting mosquitoes all day. Choose a high‑strength formula and pack extras. Some travelers also swear by garlic supplements as a gentle, natural nudge to keep those pesky biters at bay.

Making your way down to the water at Turner’s Beach feels like stepping into a storybook. A recent storm left a dramatic shelf in the sand, a natural terrace you descend from and beyond it the shore unfolds — spotless, soft and studded with a glittering scatter of seashells. Some lie nearly whole and gently weathered, their curves smoothed by waves; others are mystery fragments, delicate and abstract, each one a tiny souvenir stitched into the sand.

Tip / Hurricane season in Antigua runs from June through November, with the highest risk typically between August and October, so visitors should monitor forecasts, purchase travel insurance and plan flexible itineraries.

To the right, a neat row of red beach chairs lounge beneath blue umbrellas, all leading back to Julia’s On The Beach — the cozy restaurant and bar that hugs the shoreline.

The beach lay almost deserted, a tranquil ribbon of sand where only a handful of people lingered in the warm shallows. As the sun eased toward the horizon and clouds drifted like soft brushstrokes across the sky, the sea shimmered in a hush of lavender and periwinkle, inviting quiet smiles and slow, lingering moments.

Following the beach westward, a charming scatter of stones tucked beneath a weathered seaside eatery that wore its history like a sun-faded shawl. Blocked by the jagged rocks jutting into the sea, turn toward the roadside for a little detour that leads to the other side.

At the far north edge of Turner’s Beach, I slipped into the shallow water, letting the sea cradle me as the sunset unfurled — cool blues melting into honeyed golds that spilled slowly across the sky.

When the sky finally deepens into evening, it’s the perfect moment to stroll back to your stay and freshen up for dinner.

Enjoy a Sun-Drenched Lunch at Darkwood Beach Bar & Restaurant

Arrive at Darkwood Beach Bar and Restaurant — a proper island meal awaits, best enjoyed with sand still on your shoes and a sun-bright grin.

Sand between the toes and a table planted near the water’s edge — the kind of arrival that feels like a reward. The beach is a wash of soft, white sand that seems to glow under the sun; it’s easy to imagine spending the next few days here with nothing urgent to do but breathe.

Tip / While your meal is being prepared, slip out to Darkwood Beach — it’s a little slice of island magic and one of the loveliest stretches of sand you’ll find.

Reach for a guava juice, then let the menu choose the meal: the catch of the day, a bright red snapper. Simple, fresh, exactly what the seaside calls for. Then, in search of another cool beverage, tamarind juice promises something different — a lively mix of sweet and sour that dances on the palate, rounded out with a hint of lemon and a whisper of caramel. Perfectly balanced, it feels like a local secret in a glass.

The red snapper arrives next to fluffy Caribbean rice — think Jamaican rice and peas — and vibrant steamed vegetables. The skin is satisfyingly crisp, giving way to tender, juicy flesh that’s brimming with bright, island-seasoned flavor.

After you’ve had your fill, cash out roughly $35 USD and you’ll be on your way.

Experience an Unforgettable Meal at Sheer Rocks

If you’re on the island’s west side, don’t miss a meal at Sheer Rocks inside the Cocobay Resort — you don’t have to be a guest to enjoy it. Cocobay Resort is a stylish, adults-only cliffside resort perched on dramatic limestone bluffs overlooking the turquoise Caribbean, known for its intimate villas, stunning ocean views and relaxed luxury. Atop the cliffs and breathing in the ocean air, Sheer Rocks makes the most of its dramatic setting. Not my usual pick but I decided to indulge and stay awhile.

Sheer Rocks feels simultaneously luxurious and intimate. The restaurant draws a well-heeled crowd — my first glimpse of fellow travelers on this trip — but the setting soon made them fade into the background. A wooden boardwalk led me along the wind-swept edge, each step bringing the ocean closer until I found my table nearly suspended above the water.

From that high vantage, the sea was a black velvet expanse, the horizon swallowed by night. Waves pounded on the rocks below in a steady, comforting percussion while the sky glittered with stars so bright they seemed to spill down toward the water. Dinner there wasn’t just a meal; it was an evening stitched together from salt air, the murmur of surf and the kind of view that makes conversation pause so you can simply watch.

If you’re after an unforgettable night, opt for one of the set courses — I went for three, paired with a pink passion cocktail. The drink arrived like a jewel: passion fruit, dragon fruit and lime. Bright and photogenic, it leaned sharper than I prefer but it matched the evening’s lively, tropical energy.

The first act began with a few delightful, unexpected bites that set the tone. Then came my starter: blackened yellowfin tuna cradled by creamy avocado, crisp green papaya, tangy sour radish and a scatter of black sesame. It was my favorite dish of the night — smoky, fresh and perfectly balanced, a little island symphony on the plate that tasted like Antigua itself.

For the main, a local lobster tail ravioli — a plate that read like a love letter to the sea: pillowy pasta spilling sweet lobster, confit tomatoes that tasted sun-warmed, buttered leeks melting into each forkful, a crisp surprise of lobster tempura and a golden turmeric-root dressing connecting everything together. It was beautifully composed and utterly delicious, though a touch elaborate for my own taste; I’m partial to dishes that let a single ingredient sing. Still, every bite felt thoughtfully made and watching the ocean light fade beyond the cliff made the complexity worth savoring.

Dessert arrived like a little island of indulgence: coconut mousse cuddled up with a glossy mango jelly, a feather of crisp meringue and shards of caramelized white chocolate. Each bite was undeniably delicious — vibrant, tropical, perfectly suited to Sheer Rocks’ cliffside drama — if a touch exuberant, as though the plate itself couldn’t resist showing off. Still, I found myself longing for one clear note to linger, rather than a full orchestra of flavors vying for attention. Even so, it was a sweet, sunlit finale to a memorable dinner by the sea.

The set menu (EC$255) unfolded like a parade of island-inspired plates: several were genuinely delicious, bright with fresh seafood and citrus; others tried a bit too hard, layering flavors as if to impress the tourist palate rather than let the ingredients breathe. Despite that, the overall rhythm of the evening — starry night sky, warm breeze, clinking glasses — made it easy to forgive the occasional over-ambitious bite. With the cocktail (EC$30), the bill landed around EC$285 total, roughly US$105, a price that felt fair for the view and the full-sensory experience. If you're going to Sheer Rocks, come for the setting and linger; the food will charm you in parts and the rest is worth the story.

Cruise Fig Tree Lane for Local Treats

Fig Tree Lane in is a short, shaded street where towering banyan and fig trees form a cool canopy over brightly painted colonial buildings. It’s a pleasant spot for a slow stroll, popping into craft shops and cafés while feeling a peaceful contrast to the island’s busier beaches. Visit in the late afternoon to enjoy softer light, fewer crowds and the gentle hum of local life.

You can certainly walk or hike Fig Tree Lane but there’s something magical about taking a slow, scenic drive through the tropical rainforest. Weaving around potholes and cruising past sleepy little villages, you’ll want to keep your eyes peeled for moments that beg to be savored. The instant I spotted a vendor, I eased to the roadside, jumped out and wandered over to see what treasures awaited.

Sister Glo’s stall is an absolute delight: a tiny makeshift booth with a tiled countertop and mint-green trim, neatly lined with jars of local jams, jellies and spicy little hot sauces. For $20 USD you can pick a few to take home but with so many tempting flavors it’s tough to decide — after all, your suitcase likely only has room for one or two precious jars.

Tamarind, mango, pineapple, fig, gooseberry, passion fruit, guava, golden apple, soursop, cashew… the choices read like a treasure map of tropical delights, each one more tempting than the last.

Tip / Fig Tree Lane may be sleepy in the island’s slow season but move slowly and you’ll spot vendors tucked along the street like hidden treasures.

Wander Laviscount Island’s Enchanting Tortoise Sanctuary

To reach Laviscount Island and its heartwarming tortoise sanctuary, you have a few options. Most visitors hop a short water taxi from St. John’s or the nearest mainland dock — English Harbor and Falmouth Harbor are the usual launching points. If you prefer ease and flexibility, private charters and organized tours will pick you up from major hotels or marinas, though they do come at a higher price. Expect a breezy 15–45 minute ride across the water, depending on where you leave from and how the sea is feeling that day.

Typical boat-taxi fares to Laviscount Island depend on departure point, season and vessel type:

Short crossing from the nearest mainland pier (about 10–20 minutes): $30–$60 per person one way.
Longer crossings from more distant towns or private hires: $60–$150+ per person one way.
Private charter or whole-boat hire: $150–$600+ depending on boat size, duration and whether it’s round-trip.

If you’re hands-on and want a little road-trip flavor, drive to Stingray City and catch a boat taxi there for about $60 USD. The drive is charming — Fig Tree Lane is especially scenic and perfect for stopping to sample local treats. Note that online directions can be misleading: Stingray City sits down a tiny dirt road at the island’s northeast corner, roughly 45 minutes from the island’s farthest point by car. When you arrive, check in, pay the fee and wait — the transfer boat usually comes about once an hour and the actual crossing is delightfully short, essentially a two-minute hop.

Tip / Service personalities and dock locations can vary, so keep an open mind and a sense of adventure — you might find a friendlier crew or a closer dock than you expect.

Laviscount Island feels like a whispered secret tucked off Antigua’s sun-sparkled coast — a private patch of land shaped by the vision of Andrew Moody-Stuart, a beloved Antiguan-Jamaican entrepreneur and tourism pioneer. His footprint on the island is only one chapter of a larger legacy that includes Stingray City, GROW Antigua (a licensed medical cannabis company) and the popular circumnavigation boat tours that let visitors fall in love with Antigua’s coastline.

Stepping onto the island, you first notice the dry, dusty earth softened at the edges by curtains of red mangrove and hardy local plants like the agave, Antigua’s unofficial emblem. A weathered wooden dock nudges you ashore and beneath a carved wooden arch — a quiet tribute to Andrew, who passed in 2021 — you pass into a place that feels both timeless and carefully tended.

Laviscount is part sanctuary, part storybook. It shelters a small but devoted animal sanctuary where native sea turtles are gently rehabilitated and massive Aldabra giant tortoises amble through shaded paths. Archaeologists have also unearthed traces of an ancient Amerindian settlement here, adding another layer of mystery to the island’s landscape.

Stepping off the boat and onto sun-warmed sand, a friendly guide soon finds you and folds you into a small, eager group. Before long you’ll be peeking over the low fence of the sanctuary enclosure, craning for your first glimpse of the stars of the show — slow, steady turtles and dignified tortoises. A cool cup of fruit punch pressed into your hands, a welcome sip that tastes of citrus and island breeze.

The guide has a gentle way of telling the turtles’ stories. Many of the turtles are local, he says, while the heavier, squat tortoises had come from faraway Seychelles. Most of them arrived here not by choice but by circumstance — abandoned pets that outgrew care, delicate eggs damaged by accidental handling or animals recovering from injuries. Hearing those quiet tales makes each plodding step feel more meaningful and the sanctuary itself, a small refuge stitched together by compassion.

The Giant Aldabra tortoise feels like a living time capsule. Slow-moving and impossibly patient, these ancient creatures carry a quiet dignity that makes you want to whisper as you approach. At the sanctuary you can wander among more than 50 of them, watching their deliberate, unhurried lives play out against a backdrop of scrub and salt-scented air.

These tortoises are relics of deep time — a lineage that stretches back millions of years with hardly a need to change. Their domed shells, long necks and sturdy, elephant-like feet have an oddly familiar, primeval beauty. Standing near one as it lifts its head to nibble leaves, you get a real sense of connection to the planet’s distant past, as if you’re sharing a brief moment with a creature that has watched the world shift around it for eons. The sanctuary isn’t just an opportunity to see them; it’s an invitation to slow down, reflect and appreciate a living piece of history.

Aldabra giants slowly lumber into view, each shell spanning up to four feet and carrying a body that can tip the scales at more than 600 pounds. Meeting one feels like greeting an ancient neighbor — one of the largest tortoises on Earth, with lifespans that can stretch toward 200 years. Native to the islands of the Indian Ocean, these gentle colossi belong to sunlit places of lush green and balmy air, where they graze contentedly on grasses, leaves and an assortment of island plants.

At the sanctuary, however, they developed a soft spot for something more familiar: carrots. Our guide demonstrated the art of feeding — how to offer a carrot at just the right angle — and then pressed several into our hands with a grin. “Keep your eyes open,” he warned. “They’re slower than us but surprisingly quick when there’s a snack involved.” It was shockingly true: a sudden, urgent stretch of neck, a beak-like nibble and a moment that felt both prehistoric and utterly adorable.

Tip / Be careful where you place your fingers when feeding the tortoises — and don’t stay frozen in one spot. They can be surprisingly quick and may sneak up on you before you notice.

Those tortoises were impossibly cute — earnest, joyful little slobber-bells happily munching carrots and shimmying along on their bellies. I even fell for one tiny charmer who decided I was his favorite, wearing a proud smudge of slippery carrot across his mouth and nose like a badge of honor.

Read / If you’re still curious about the gentle tortoises of Laviscount Island and the other characters that share their home, keep an eye out for Shells & Hooves: Exploring Antigua’s Tortoise and Donkey Sanctuaries — coming soon.

Support Antigua's Donkey Sanctuary

Back on the mainland, wander over to Bethesda Village and meet the lovable residents of Antigua’s Donkey Sanctuary. Home to roughly 150 gentle donkeys, the sanctuary doubles as an animal shelter where you’ll learn about the invaluable role these animals played in Antigua’s history — and get the chance to feed, pet and really connect with them up close.

Donkeys have been part of Antigua’s story since English settlers arrived in the 1630s. Once the humble workhorses of sugar plantations — hauling loads of cane and even turning mills — they now move through island life at a gentler pace. While their labor has faded, donkeys remain a familiar and endearing sight, nibbling in sunlit fields or meandering along village lanes.

Open Tuesday through Saturday, 10 a.m. to 3 p.m., the sanctuary welcomes visitors free of charge and offers a gentle refuge for donkeys in need — whether neglected, injured, abused or simply causing trouble by raiding crops or wandering onto roads. Each resident receives tender, professional care: veterinary check-ups, dental work, farrier services and carefully tailored nutrition to help them heal and thrive.

I arrived to a cheerful commotion and was handed a soft brush for the donkeys — a tiny passport to their world. But it was feeding time, so I was warned to keep my distance, eyes only. Most stayed busy with their meals, noses buried in hay, until the littlest one decided otherwise. The youngest, smallest donkey ambled over with shy curiosity, snuffling my hand and nudging the brush as if to say, “This is for me.” Playful and affectionate, it quickly took a liking to me, rolling its soft head against the bristles and turning a simple moment into an unexpected friendship.

Read / If your curiosity for donkey antics isn’t satisfied yet, stay tuned for Shells & Hooves: A Delightful Peek into Antigua’s Tortoise and Donkey Sanctuaries — coming soon.

Catch Breathtaking Views at Shirley Heights

A lovingly restored military lookout and gun battery, Shirley Heights Lookout rewards the climb with sweeping panoramic views and lively weekly parties. It’s well worth the trip — just time your visit for lunch or dinner if you want to eat. I missed both by a hair, so I perched at the bar with a sparkling ginger beer in hand, trading stories with the bartender and a local craftsman who was selling his handmade wares outside the viewpoint.

Tip / Join the Shirley Heights Sunday BBQ party for fresh seafood, live music and breathtaking bay views — a perfect seaside evening of great food, good company and sunset magic.

Too restless to wait for Sunday’s barbecue — still going strong after 38 years — I moved to the cliff’s edge overlooking the bay. From the Lookout, the whole of English Harbour unfolded like a painting. Behind the rain-catchment, on the highest rise, sat an old signal station where flags by day and guns by night once sent messages to St. John’s on Monk’s Hill.

Antigua’s story begins long before it became the cheerful island many visitors know today. Christopher Columbus christened it in 1493 after the Church of Santa María de la Antigua in Spain and a century and a half later the Englishman Christopher Codrington planted the first permanent settlement in 1632. Under British rule, Antigua grew into a prosperous sugar colony — after an early period of tobacco farming — and for much of its history it served as Britain’s “Gateway to the Caribbean,” a busy waypoint for sailing routes across the region.

The smaller sister island, Barbuda, joined Antigua’s colonial tale a few decades later, settled by the British in 1678 and brought under Antigua’s administration in the late 1800s. Enslaved people on Antigua were granted full freedom in 1834 without an apprenticeship period, a rare immediate emancipation that set the island on a difficult but hopeful new path. In the modern era, Antigua and Barbuda achieved full independence in 1981, completing a long journey from colony to nation.

High above English Harbor, Shirley Heights offers one of the island’s most romantic reminders of the past. Built in the 1780s to guard Nelson’s Dockyard, this former military compound and lookout — named for Sir Thomas Shirley — once relayed signals during the War of American Independence. Today, it’s a windswept panorama of history and sea, part of the Nelson’s Dockyard National Park and the broader UNESCO World Heritage Site that preserves Antigua’s rich maritime legacy.

Perched on the summit, Shirley Heights Lookout Restaurant & Bar is a lively little hub atop the Lookout — think smoky BBQ evenings, reggae rhythms drifting on the breeze and the occasional wedding or private celebration. The cliffs are a short half-mile jaunt from Galleon Beach (though I spotted a few folks huffing and puffing — taxis are happily available). Just outside the restaurant, the spectacular lookout unfurls across the bay, dotted with local vendors selling handmade wares. It’s one of the island’s finest sunset stages; I longed to stay for the party but duty called and I had to move on.

Driving away from the compound, old fortifications poke through the grassy slope. Personally, I didn’t find any dramatic ruins but the Shirley Heights military complex once included a guardhouse, magazine and kitchen, officers’ quarters, parade grounds, a 40-bed hospital, canteen and a cemetery. An obelisk there honors the officers and men of the 54th Regiment (2nd Battalion Dorsets) who died serving in the West Indies between 1840 and 1851.

My next mission was to seek out Rendezvous Beach — a place I'd heard praised as the island’s finest. The attempt was a delightful misadventure. I bumped along roads so rough they seemed carved by relentless weather and time, wound myself up into steep, bewildering hills and promptly got gloriously lost. Later, I’d learn that roads don’t lead to Rendezvous; you either hike down the pathless slopes or arrive by boat, which I later did on a circumnavigation tour. Deflated but not defeated, I lingered in the hills and was rewarded with some unexpectedly spectacular views — a small consolation that felt like a secret gift.

Beach-Hop Along Antigua’s Sun-Kissed Shores

With an afternoon wide open, why not go beach hopping? After all, this is the island of 365 beaches. Nestled in Freeman’s Bay on Antigua’s southern shore, Galleon Beach is a tranquil little cove, prized for snorkeling and the occasional turtle sighting. Tucked into English Harbour — once a burial ground for British soldiers — the beach is marked by a large, weathered anchor that hints at its seafaring past.

The horseshoe bay is undeniably pretty, even if the water itself is a bit underwhelming. The water was warm and calm, though not crystal clear and a few rocks and patches of algae dotted the shallows. Still, I claimed a spot on the sand and refreshed myself with a languid dip at the water’s edge.

Curtain Bluff Beach was my next stop but despite meandering up and down the road, I couldn’t find a path down to the sand. A gentleman at the nearby resort kindly mentioned the hotel offered access — if I happened to be a guest. It was a gentle reminder that, while every beach in Antigua is technically public, some are a little better at playing hard to get.

Ideal for snorkeling, swimming, sunbathing, yacht charters, jet skiing, wakeboarding, parasailing, tubing, kayaking and scuba diving, Antigua’s waters and beaches have a delightfully untouched, almost secret quality. Many lie along the island’s western shore and feel blissfully private — I rarely saw more than one or two fellow beachgoers — while a few are conveniently tucked just steps from grand resorts.

Morris Bay Beach was a little triumph. Tucked away in Morris Bay, it felt hushed and peaceful, the water glassy and calm with just a handful of boats drifting like tiny toys on the surface.

Morris Bay feels pleasantly quiet — perhaps vendors frequent the shore at times but when I arrived it was all soft sand and the gentle hush of waves. I claimed a little patch of beach, then slipped into the water for a refreshing swim. The day’s heat had been fierce and the cool ocean was an instant, blissful relief.

Pleasant, if a little strewn with driftwood and shells, the beach didn’t quite win my heart. As the sun slipped westward and clouds gathered overhead, a gentle coolness settled in.

Back at Turners Beach as the sky softened into sunset, the shoreline invited one last lingering stroll. Golden light draped the sand and the waves murmured in a slow, satisfied rhythm — an irresistible scene to savor a little longer before the day slipped away.

Enormous, puffy clouds gathered like cotton castles preparing for a grand encore. Peach and gold began to spill across the sky, brushing the horizon with a warm, lazy glow. As the minutes drifted by, the colors grew richer — peaches deepening into coral, gold melting into amber — painting the clouds in richer hues until the once-ivory pillows blushed a duskier, more romantic shade.

My attention drifted to the sand at my feet, a miniature treasure trove strewn with shells and fragments of coral in every imaginable shape. I wandered along the shore, eyes skimming the surface until a familiar curve or gleam caught me. When I found a smooth piece that spoke to me, I scooped it up like a small victory. By the time I returned to my stay, my little haul had become a cheerful mound of seaside souvenirs — each one a tiny memory of the day.

The tide’s gentle rhythm lures you into a quiet trance — steady yet delightfully capricious, much like the cloud formations drifting above. The sky’s colors deepen and the last light begins to slip away.

This evening I’d set off for Saint John, the capital’s warm lights guiding me toward dinner at Papa Zouk. A few days earlier in Dominica, I’d struck up a conversation with a kind gentleman who, upon hearing I was bound for Antigua, insisted I visit his restaurant. His unexpected recommendation felt like a tiny travel serendipity — a local nudge toward what promised to be a memorable meal.

Feast at Papa Zouk

About 25 minutes north, down a shadowed lane, Papa Zouk beckons with the scent of fresh seafood, an impressive rum lineup and a delightfully artsy vibe. The place is lively, unpretentious and full of character — dimly lit, rustic and hung with paintings the owner has lovingly made. I remember sitting with him in Dominica, in that tiny restaurant perched above the valley, as he ordered me dinner. Between bites, he spoke of a colorful past, of health scares that led him to pick up a brush and of the surprise of discovering an effortless talent he half-jokingly called savant-like. The result is warm, spirited and utterly memorable.

Try the conch fritters, a local specialty, alongside a bright glass of fresh fruit juice and warm bread basket with cloud-like whipped butter — a small, welcoming ritual that sets the tone for a delicious island evening.

For a main, surrender to the islands’ bounty with the carnival platter — a generous medley of plump shrimp, tender calamari and briny mussels bathed in a silky white‑wine cream, accompanied by a crisp garden salad. It’s the kind of dish that tastes like sunshine, salt air and slow afternoons by the sea.

Expect a delight — generous portions that beg to be savored. The seafood tastes impossibly fresh, every bite bright and clean but what’s best is the moment between courses: sitting back, watching the parade of characters drift by and soaking up the lively, eclectic hum of the restaurant. It felt like dining at the center of a little local theatre, where the food and the people shared equal starring roles.

On my visit, I couldn’t finish much of my meal — I got full so quickly — but I was still thrilled to be there and honored to celebrate my new friend.

Admire Nearby Islands & One Last Golden Sunset

My final day in Antigua unfolded like a sun-drenched postcard. I spent it aboard Adventure Antigua’s Xtreme Circumnavigation Tour, skimming around the island with a perfect mix of thrill and wonder. We plunged into crystal water to swim with gentle stingrays, lingered over a breezy lunch on Green Island, and soaked up history at Nelson’s Dockyard. Snorkeling by the Pillars of Hercules revealed a secret world beneath the waves and a refreshing dip at Rendezvous Bay sealed the day. Tired and elated, I returned to my little haven just in time for one last, golden sunset at Turner’s Beach.

Read / Get ready to sail around paradise by circumnavigating the islands, stay tuned for Antigua’s Sun-Kissed Shores: Stingray Swims, Powder-White Beaches & Island Snorkeling — coming soon.

Through the veil of low clouds on the horizon, a few tiny landforms peeked out waiting to be discovered. To the west rose Montserrat — a rugged, mountainous Caribbean isle tucked into the Lesser Antilles and part of the British Overseas Territories. Though the Soufrière Hills volcano reshaped the island in the 1990s, leaving scars in the south, the north remained resilient: a wild stretch of black sand beaches, thriving coral reefs, dramatic cliffs and hidden shoreline caves that invite exploration.

Tip / If you find yourself on the island’s northwest side, keep your eyes peeled for the twin-sail silhouette of Saint Kitts & Nevis drifting on the horizon. From the northern shores, a sweeter, smaller cousin appears — Barbuda — Antigua’s shy little sister, winking from across the blue.

Toward the east, a delicate butterfly of islands drift into view — Guadeloupe, a French overseas region tucks into the warm southern Caribbean. Two main wings, split by the Salée River, paint a study in contrasts: Grande-Terre, gently rolling and sun-drenched, lined with long beaches and the neat rows of sugarcane; and Basse-Terre, wild and verdant, where Parc National de la Guadeloupe hides misty trails, the thundering Carbet Falls and the brooding summit of La Grande Soufrière. Scattered nearby like jewels on a map are smaller charms — Marie-Galante and La Désirade — each promising their own quiet corners to explore.

I’d planned to spend a leg of this trip in Guadeloupe but the islands had other ideas. At Sint Maarten’s airport, I discovered my flight had vanished — along with the airline that sold it. With a tropical storm bearing down and time slipping away, I snapped up a last-minute ticket to Dominica and waved goodbye to Guadeloupe. Even if I’d managed to get there, there were no onward flights that would have gotten me off the island before the weather closed in.

Tip / Always double-check Caribbean flight bookings — flights and even whole routes can sometimes be canceled or changed unexpectedly. Build in extra time when planning travel in the region: tropical storms are a regular possibility and can easily delay your plans.

Feed Yourself at The Fox House

For dinner, linger where the island feels closest to home: The Fox House. Tucked into a warm, candlelit corner, this farm‑to‑table gem plates up soulful Caribbean Creole fare that tastes like tradition and sunshine. Founded by the spirited Lady Fox, the restaurant blends local ingredients with heartfelt recipes — perfect for a slow meal, a friendly chat with the staff and a true taste of the island.

Order a cocktail to start, try an Old Fashioned, which arrives alongside a little trio of treats: warm bread, creamy butter and a bright diced tomato spread — an inviting opening act. For the first course, sample a velvety pumpkin soup finished with parsley-infused oil and delicate banana shavings, followed by a plate of coconut shrimp crowned with citrus salsa. Each bite is delightful and the shrimp are gloriously oversized — perfect for savoring slowly between sips.

For the main course, dive into the island’s flavors: a medley of fresh seafood, a fragrant West Indian conch curry — an island favorite — served alongside steamed basmati rice and a crisp house salad.

A gentle punctuation to a Caribbean chapter coming to an end, tomorrow morning I’d be on a plane back to Los Angeles, suitcase fuller with sand and stories. This holiday had unfolded exactly as I’d hoped: unexpected discoveries around every turn, flavors that kept me searching for seconds, warm smiles from locals and vistas that stopped me mid-step.

Of all the stops — Sint Maarten and Saint Martin’s lively shores, Antigua’s sun-drenched bays — it was Dominica that stole my heart. There was something deliciously untamed about it, as if I’d wandered into a place that guarded its secrets with a green, misty veil. I felt like a fortunate intruder, privy to hidden waterfalls, ancient trails and moments so quiet they felt only mine.

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