A seductive young Andalusian led me up the narrow steps to the top of the Torre Tavira, an 18th-century tower in the heart of old Cadiz. She laughed as she closed the shutters, banishing the summer’s day and throwing the room into total darkness. “We are not here for sleeping,” she teased, “but for looking at the camera obscura.” A concave lens several feet across stood between us like a horizontal television screen, projecting images from a fancy telescope above. In the darkness, on the screen, I caught my first glimpse of the Costa de la Luz: the Coast of Light.

The Torre Tavira was built to keep an eye on shipping in what was once one of the world’s great ports — Cadiz was Christopher Columbus’s base of choice for transatlantic voyages. It now performs the less impressive task of entertaining visitors by spying on the good — and the bad — citizens of Cadiz. Like a fortune-teller conjuring images in her crystal ball, the guide showed me some of the city’s main buildings, then people at home, stretching out on rooftop terraces, embracing in a window, strolling down the street and out on the beach. There was one thing the remarkable contraption couldn’t show, and that was the wind. Apart from the light, the wind is the single most important thing you need to know about when visiting Spain’s Atlantic coast.

From the old watchtowers of Cadiz to the pirate-ravaged alleys of Tarifa, at Spain’s southernmost point, a mere hop away from Africa, Andalusia has one of Europe’s most beautiful coastlines. Yet, even in July and August, it is rarely crowded. The Costa de la Luz has more than 50 miles of fine white sand, backed by dunes and pine forest, the water transparently clean, the sun reliable. But beach-lovers don’t flock here for one good reason. For much of the year, this is more Coast of Wind — and windsurf — than Coast of Light.

Two forceful winds cut along the coast, a westerly called the poniente and a wind from the east, the levante. It is so persistent that it has been known to drive people mad — the fact that the Costa de la Luz has one of Europe’s highest suicide rates may not be unrelated. So, why go there? Well, if you are a windsurfer, the reasons are obvious. Even if you are not, there is something for you here, because every July and August, something unexpected happens — the fierce winds tend to drop, the Atlantic swells flatten to a ripple and the windsurf instructors have nothing to distract them from the bodies of the girls from Seville and Madrid.

The wind’s notoriety has given the coast the sort of reputation that even the most silver-tongued property developer struggles to overcome. As a result, the beaches are mostly free of the developments that have ruined much of Spain’s Mediterranean coastline. But that is changing, as I saw on the drive down from Cadiz: Chiclana de la Frontera and neighbouring Conil were busy with cranes and construction sites, and neither offered a good enough reason to stop the car. Just beyond Conil, however, there is a beach of such magnificence that I happily drove a couple of hours a day to reach it when I found it a couple of years ago.

El Palmar has miles of pristine, dune-backed sand, with a couple of small hostels, some private houses and a few restaurants behind the dunes, none of it high enough to spoil the views. Swimming in the cooling ocean under the watchful eye of the summer lifeguards, then stretching out on the sand is pleasure enough, heightened by the anticipation of sundowners in the bars behind the dunes, or at La Chanca, which serves up perfectly grilled fish and a cool tinto de verano, the local version of sangria.

There is a scientific explanation for the levante — a geographical one, at least — for it is the child of air forced between the Pillars of Hercules, the two great rocks that mark the mouth of the Mediterranean, one at Gibraltar, the other in the Rif mountains of Morocco. The closer you get to the Pillars — and Tarifa — the more chance of a free skin-buffing as the wind shoots sand at great speed. Even at El Palmar, though, there are days in high summer when the wind will keep you from the beach. Those are the days when you want to move, either inland in search of other pleasures, or along the coast to other beaches. Because, while El Palmar and the beautiful, mostly gay and nudist beach of Las Cortinas, at nearby Los Caños de Meca, both face more or less west — the latter looking onto the site of Nelson’s victory at Trafalgar — Bolonia beach, backed by the remains of a Roman settlement, faces south.

When all else fails, you can seek out Punta Paloma, a series of beautiful, protected inlets. It was there, while hiding from the wind and riding on the gentle swell, that I saw a huddle of people making their way along the beach, brown from face to foot. They looked like bedraggled survivors from a Tarifa rave, but were in fact covered with a mud found on the beach, which has the sort of skin-revitalising qualities for which one pays a fortune in spas.

TARIFA, just a sweep of a headland away from Punta Paloma, is a far cry from its mud-caked calm. A plaque over the entrance to the old town commemorates its recovery from the Moors in 1292; another one may soon be erected to commemorate its loss to foreigners from the north in the 21st century, for Tarifa has become Europe’s windsurf capital, its whitewashed alleys and the streets that surround them lined with music bars, surf boutiques and companies offering excursions into the Strait of Gibraltar.

It’s not just the wind that likes to play between the Pillars of Hercules. All year round, an assortment of whales and dolphins pass through on their way to the Med or the Atlantic. Several companies in Tarifa run whale-watching boats out into the strait, and, as we pulled out of Tarifa harbour, heading straight towards Africa, I had another of those camera-obscura moments. The run of beaches from Tarifa to Punta Paloma and beyond were laid out as the sights of Cadiz had been before, and here again was a seductive young woman, this time leading me to the bow of the boat and telling me to look, but not touch. The gentle sibling of the levante whipped up a few white caps, and through them appeared a school of dolphins, jumping and playing, following us until the captain decided we had had enough and turned back towards Spain.

That evening, there was another surprise as I sat on the terrace of the Hurricane Hotel, sipping a chilled glass of fino beneath oleander and palms. In front of me, beyond the hotel’s pool and garden, lay a short stretch of water separating continents. But as night fell, the lights of northern Morocco, glittering up the mountain slopes, seemed close enough to touch, leaving me thinking that this was the coast of light and wind, but also the coast of wonders.

Anthony Sattin travelled as a guest of the Spanish Tourist Office and the Cadiz Tourist Board

Five things to do if the wind does blow

Head for the hills on a horse; from £17 for an hour at the Hurricane Hipica (00 34-956 689092, www.tarifahip.com ).

Visit the Torre Tavira (956 212910, www.torretavira.com ) and the other sights of Cadiz.

Tour the bodegas in Jerez or Sanlucar de Barrameda and discover the variety of sherry and Sanlucar wines.

Go whale-watching in Tarifa — even if it’s windy on the beach, the boats may be running into the Strait of Gibraltar. Turmares (956 680741, www.turmares.com ) is a recommended operator.

Settle in for a long lunch and a siesta, muttering “Mañana, mañana”. One of my favourite places is Castilleria (956 451497), a grill restaurant serving fantastic meat, tucked away in the hamlet of Santa Lucia, just outside Vejer. If you must have fish, the neighbouring La Tajea is a good alternative.

Travel brief

Getting there: Jerez is 21 miles from Cadiz. Fly there from Stansted, with Ryanair (www.ryanair.com ); or from Manchester, with Monarch (0870 040 5040, www.flymonarch.com ). Or fly to Seville, 77 miles away, from Gatwick, with Iberia (0870 609 0500, www.iberia.com ); Heathrow, with Clickair (00 800 254 25247, www.clickair.com ); or Stansted, Liverpool or Dublin, with Ryanair. Aer Lingus (0818 365000, www.aerlingus.com ) also flies to Seville from Dublin.

Where to stay: the Hurricane Hotel (00 34-956 684919, www.hurricanehotel.com ), near Tarifa, has doubles from £60, B&B. In Tarifa, try La Sacristia (956 681759, www.lasacristia.net ; doubles from £78, B&B). In Vejer, there’s the Escondrijo (956 447438, www.escondrijo.com ; doubles from £58), with a Moorish-boutique feel. In Medina Sidonia, a little further inland, La Casa del Azahar (956 411628, www.lacasadelazahar.com ; doubles from £41, B&B) is an 18th-century palace in the heart of the town.

Getting around: Holiday Autos (0870 400 4461, www.holidayautos.co.uk ) has a week’s inclusive hire from £77. Or try EasyCar (www.easycar.com ).

Tour operators: Mundicolor (020 7828 6021) has a week, B&B, at the Convento San Francisco, in Vejer, from £348pp, including flights to Jerez from Stansted and car hire. Planet Windsurf (0870 749 1959, www.planetwindsurf.com ) has a week at the Rancho Valdevaqueros from £630pp, B&B, including Seville flights and car hire. Further information: Spanish Tourist Office (020 7317 2040, www.tourspain.co.uk ).

Times recommends

• The Times travel photo competition
• 10 classic Paris travel ideas
• Airlines investigated over baggage check-in failures