Sarah Greaves-Gabbadon (Caribbean Journal travel editor) waxes poetic as she describes Deep Water Cay in the Bahamas. Sounds like a beautiful dream. . .
They call it swimming beach. But they really should call heaven on earth.
Because that’s what it feels like on this Monday morning as I sit on a deck chair facing the sea, listening to the rhythmic sound of waves lapping against the shores of Deep Water Cay, a two-square-mile private-island resort just east of Grand Bahama.
[. . .] Here, on this white-sand sweep, my perch is one of only six chairs, arranged in pairs and positioned a respectful distance from each other. I’m the only person here. (The Cay’s other guests have gone fishing, I presume, since world-class bonefishing in the surrounding flats has brought fishermen and their families here for more than half a century.) And I feel like the luckiest, having Swimming Beach all to myself.
The frosty Kalik in my hand has only just begun to sweat when I spot a cushion starfish as large as a dinner plate and as orange as the fruit itself at the water’s edge. And not two seconds later a ray appears mere feet from the shore, its expanse casting a shadow in the crystal shallows as it glides swiftly and silently by. [. . .]