Wild Shores
Coastlines where the interest is not the beach club but the geology: reefs, volcanic sand, whale migrations, cliffs with paths along them and water cold enough to matter. Bring boots as well as a towel.
A coast stays wild for a reason, and the reason is almost never that nobody found it.
Usually something made building impossible or illegal. Big Sur has no room: the Santa Lucia range drops into the Pacific, the single road is closed by landslides most years, and California has restricted development on the strip since 1962. The Cinque Terre's terraces are held up by seven thousand kilometres of dry-stone wall on slopes too steep for a machine, so the villages could not grow if they wanted to. Lofoten sits above the Arctic Circle where the Gulf Stream keeps the water open but the cliffs leave a few metres of shelf, and the fishing rorbuer are built on stilts because there is nothing else to build on.
Elsewhere the protection is deliberate. Formentera caps visitor vehicles in summer; Jeju is a UNESCO biosphere reserve; Hermanus banned boats from approaching the whales that come to calve in its bay, so the watching is done from the cliff path on foot.
And a third group is wild because the sea is: Dakhla on the Atlantic edge of the Sahara, Salalah where the monsoon turns a desert green for three months a year, El Nido and Krabi in karst archipelagos that no road can cross.
These are not undeveloped coasts waiting for their turn. Each is a place where geography, law or weather has made the usual sequence impossible, and that is the whole interest.