The afternoon light off Providenciales turns the sea into a working palette—brilliant turquoise fading to a deeper indigo at the horizon. You push off from Grace Bay on a sleek Fjord 38, engine a polite murmur under the laughter of your small group. The boat eats through the calm, shallow shelves and opens into vast blue; the wind rearranges your hair, the captain points—there, a patch of pale sand like a thumbprint: the Sand Dollar Bar. You step off into waist-deep water and the ocean, mischievous and patient, holds you up like a clear chair.