By Wyn Jones
On any given day in the year, Martinique Beach is magical. The combination of salted air and a foam-laden scent makes it a very special place. I happened to be walking along the strand one afternoon late last August, my dog Amber pounding in and out of the shallows as a warm and glowing sun set the ripples in the receding tide to a diamond sparkle. As it was mid week, we had the whole length of the beach to ourselves, or so I thought. But there suddenly just ahead of us, wading slowly, the water lapping around his knees, was a small rotund figure.
November 29, 2016
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