From bonefishing flats to an overwater spa, Kamalame Cay evolves while keeping its soul intact.
It’s as if he instinctively knows this water.
The flats where he stands knee-deep in see-through aquamarine water, surrounded by low, tangled mangroves, have always been about bonefishing. Casting his fly rod in quiet, practiced arcs, he hunts the elusive gray ghosts. His first encounter with the hard-to-catch fish came months earlier in South Caicos. And now, on this private island resort just off Andros in the Bahamas — widely considered the bonefishing capital of the world — he is in his bonefishing glory.
I, on the other hand, know Kamalame Cay’s (pronounced ka-mal-a-me) connection to the sea. More than 20 years ago, I came here to experience the then-new overwater spa. The tiny, built-on-stilts sanctuary — its architecture and ambiance reminiscent of The Maldives — is still here, but now with glass-panel floors for watching sea life (turtles, stingrays, and fish) glide beneath during treatments. The original Great House, for cocktails, fine dining, and social gathering remains, as do the circular stone cottages, including Rock House, built for David Rockefeller who came (into his 100s), and Coco Plum, where I stayed.
It isn’t the bonefish that draw me back — I barely noticed them the first time — but the cottages set directly on the beach, the conch shells and endless sea views, the thalassotherapy walks, and the sandy roads navigated by golf cart. There is literally no pavement.
The resort is larger now. Bungalows dot the previously deserted north end where my fisherman casts, and stunning residential villas attract celebrity regulars including Nicole Kidman, Penélope Cruz, and Sofia Vergara, who owns a home here. During my stay, Grant Hill and his wife, singer Tamia, share the long lunch table at the resort’s extravagant monthly wine-tasting luncheon — one of the Bahamas’ most celebrated gatherings — though at the time, I have no idea who they are.
The Backstory
Conceptually, Kamalame was to be a private family home. In the 1970s, owners Brian and Jennifer Hew left postcolonial Jamaica where they were both born and raised, to start a family in Florida. On weekends, they sailed frequently to the nearby Bahamas with their two children, David and Kimberly (now both involved in the resort), and it was during one of those trips that they came across an untouched cay just off the Andros Barrier Reef. The couple dreamed of turning the 96-acre strip of sand into a family home. But the Bahamas government would only sell the land if they agreed to put a hotel on it.
In 1994, the Hews purchased the land, brought in the basics — electricity, plumbing, water — introduced thousands of palm trees, and planted hibiscus, bougainvillea, and frangipani. Jennifer designed the beach houses; Brian oversaw the building crews. Kamalame Cay, named after the trees that flourish here, opened two years later (1996) with the Great House and just three beach houses. Its main clientele: hard-core bonefishermen.
For much of its early years, the island served as a fishing lodge. Days started with sunrise and ended at sunset over a long table where the fishers shared stories of their day over plates of spiny lobster and grilled steaks. Somewhere along the way, the fishermen began bringing their families, the overwater spa debuted, and new beach houses were constructed to accommodate the changing demographic. Around 2010, under the reins of son David Hew and his husband, Michael King-Hew, a spectacular but still low-key resort emerged.
Island Time
“Are you ready.”
My fisherman casts one last time then makes his way to where I’m wading slowly along the three-mile-long shoreline, combing for conch shells and starfish. Within seconds we are in our golf cart, purring along the twisty sand road to our villa, Magnolia, a sea of white and neutrals, with subtle pops of blues and greens. One of the top houses (along with Sip-Sip and Buttonwoods), Magnolia is bigger than we need: four bedrooms and baths including an outdoor rain shower and a separate, open-air beach palapa filled with cushy couches. Still, the house is effortlessly comfortable with wraparound decks, French doors thrown open to the sea, and chic Bahamian beach décor — whitewashed woods, conch shells, and sea fans.
We easily find our rhythm. Days unfold without agenda — swims before coffee, long walks along the tide line, and afternoons that stretch lazily between beach chairs and shaded decks. Every morning, a wicker breakfast basket filled with fresh fruit, just-baked muffins, yogurt, and hard-boiled eggs, is delivered to our door; evening turndown comes with fresh-from-the-oven cookies.
Full Circle
On my first full day, I walk the beach from my villa to the Overwater Spa — the very place that first brought me to Kamalame so many years ago. The path feels strangely familiar.
“Hello, and welcome.” Stacy Dorsett, my therapist, smiles brightly before leading me along the wooden catwalk into one of the three ocean-facing treatment rooms. Inside, the window is open wide to the sea, and beneath the massage bed, there’s a see-through floor to the water below.
“Do you think I will see turtles.”
“It’s possible,” Stacy muses, “but they are most often spotted out there,” she points to the open sea.
I have come for a massage followed by a foot ritual. We are about halfway through Stacy’s customized deep-tissue-meets-Thai-stretching massage and I’m fortunately still face down when I see it. A sea turtle gliding gracefully past. In that split second we both speak at once, “Did you see.” And then, as if on cue, another turtle follows. “They live in front of the spa, and rarely ever swim under,” Stacy says. “They came today to greet you.”
The only other place I’ve seen sea creatures swimming beneath me was my private overwater villa at Veligandu Maldives Resort Island, (although I did spot a shark from the spa deck there while having a foot massage).
The Future
According to King-Hew, more Maldives-like vibes are yet to come. Sitting at the Monkey Bar (which exudes its own White Lotus ambiance), he shares some of that vision.
In addition to The Great House (serving breakfast and dinner), Tiki Bar & Beach Club (lunch — try the conch salad), the outdoor Cinema Paradiso (movie nights), sea plane and ferry dock, the long-range expansion plans include two new restaurants, 40 villas, 32 bungalows/small cottages, and a 40-slip marina.
“The bones of who we are won’t change,” says King-Hew. “We will expand, yes, but in a low-density, low-impact way. The stars won’t be any less bright 50 years from now.”
Over the next few years, a clubhouse will also be added alongside tennis courts, a gym, and longevity center. At this, he pauses, smiles, “I can’t divulge much yet, but we will have a fabulous partner and the focus will be on living well longer. Guests will come here for weeklong, curated wellness journeys, with both spa and medical components. You must come back.”
I will. And this time, I won’t wait 20 years.
Feature image, courtesy, Kamalame Cay.
