Pointe des Châteaux is named for castles nobody ever built: at Guadeloupe's easternmost tip, the Atlantic has cut the headland into blades, turrets and offshore stacks that look like the ruins of a fortress wall. The rock is old coral reef, lifted out of the sea and hardened into the limestone platform that forms Grande-Terre, and the swell is still taking it apart — the two islets beyond the point, La Roche and L'Éperon, are pieces of the peninsula the waves have already cut off. A 43-metre rock called Morne Pavillon closes the walk, topped by a cross that ships still steer by. Behind the dunes lie six shallow salt ponds, the salines, and eight kilometres out across the channel the long, flat island of La Désirade sits on the horizon.
The path out takes ten to fifteen minutes, and the wind rises with every step. What you come for is the split: on one side the trade wind holds a turquoise lagoon flat against a barrier reef; a few hundred metres away the open ocean hits bare rock and goes up in white spray. From the cross the view swings south over Petite-Terre and Marie-Galante, and on clear days as far as the volcano on Basse-Terre, Guadeloupe's green half. This is the busiest natural site in the archipelago, and it is looked after accordingly: the Conservatoire du littoral owns the land, and each spring the commune closes the banks of the salines so terns and plovers can nest undisturbed. Swimming on the ocean side is strongly discouraged, because the Atlantic breaks straight onto bare rock here and none of this coast is lifeguarded.