Two hundred kilometres of coastline, and almost none of it alike. Lanzarote's beaches change character every few kilometres, because the same trade winds that make one bay a mirror turn the next one into an ocean. Choosing well is the difference between a perfect day and a windy one.
For calm, turquoise water, go south. The coves of Papagayo, at the island's southern tip inside a protected natural park, are reached by a dirt track and a small entrance fee per car: half-moons of golden sand between volcanic headlands, shallow and sheltered, ideal for swimming and snorkelling. Come early — there is no shade, and by midday the parking fills. Nearby, Playa Blanca's town beaches and Playa Dorada are gentler still, with services and calm water for families.
For drama, go north. Famara is a vast beach running for kilometres beneath cliffs that rise close to six hundred metres, and it is magnificent in any weather. It is also a serious beach: strong currents and shore break make it a place to surf with a school rather than to swim casually with children. The same wind that ruins a sunbathing day here makes it one of Europe's great learning grounds for surfing.
Some beaches are worth the detour for their strangeness. Caletón Blanco, in the north near Órzola, scatters white sand across black lava into a series of natural shallow pools — the warmest, safest water on the island for small children. Playa Quemada, on the south coast, is a pebbled fishing hamlet where nothing much happens, which is the point. El Golfo's green lagoon is one of the island's most photographed sights and one where you must not swim: it is protected, and the sea beside it is treacherous.
Three rules the island teaches quickly. Green flag means swim, yellow means care, red means the sea has already decided. There is almost no natural shade anywhere, so bring your own. And the Atlantic here is refreshing rather than warm — coolest in spring, at its friendliest in early autumn, when the water has had all summer to heat up.