I never lock my door. Not once. To be honest, the thought never occurs to me.
Although a shiny brass key is provided upon arrival to my beachfront house at The Cove Eleuthera where I’m staying solo, I leave it — idly neglected — next to the welcome Champagne and cheeseboard. And this simple, unassuming decision — the freedom of meandering to and from an unlocked house — catapults me back in time. To my childhood.
In the small, Mason Dixon-line town where I grew up, we never locked our doors. In fact, the only key I had (prior to driving a car) was to our post office box (we had no mail delivery). Even when we left town for week-long family vacations (i.e., drive trips to Florida, the Jersey Shore, Virginia’s rolling Blue Ridge Mountains), our doors were left wide open (alongside our windows). Everyone knew everyone and it was a given that neighbors would look after one another — water the plants, feed the dog, and yes, shut the windows if it rained.
In my adult life — the majority spent in New Jersey — I’ve grown accustomed to locking my doors every time I leave the house — for both short (morning Starbucks) and long (city office-day) runs. But on this beautiful Bahamian island, with its cerulean sea and waving palms interspersed with pines, I feel unencumbered and carefree. But perhaps most surprisingly, I feel safe. At a time when the world has seemingly gone mad, here — in this daze of blue sea-to-sky beauty — I am reminded of its grace.
Gifts from the Sea
“I wish you’d met the woman who departed this morning. You’re a lot like her.”
I am at the resort’s nightly happy hour, held under the white-canopied Point Bar set high on a bluff overlooking the sea, where I’m chatting with a couple from Florida. With only 22 keys (all suites are sea facing), the resort is intimate in feel, hosting mostly couples (many repeat), families (who sequester into the spacious villas), and increasingly, solo travelers.
“Like you, she was on a solo journey,” the Floridian continues. “She came to decompress. She did yoga, went to the spa, took nature walks, read books, ordered room service and dined solo at the sushi bar. She left feeling entirely rejuvenated.”
I quickly learn why.
Every morning I rise early and wade through knee-deep water spotting giant conch and rainbows of red, yellow, and blue starfish. Stopping for a to-go coffee at the restaurant, I continue to the bluff (now void of people), and take a seat on the single wooden bench, seemingly suspended above the water. It was MJ, the resort’s activities manager, who directed me here. “Go early in the morning and you will definitely see sea turtles.”
And I do. The first, like me, appears solo, softly twirling his flippers in a dance-like motion; the next sighting is of a pair, slowly popping their heads out of the water to take a breath. In total, I see five sea turtles, all of which disappear — as if on cue — in time for me to make my 8 a.m. yoga class.
A rhythm to my days develops: early-morning beach walks, turtle watching on the bluff, and yoga class followed by ‘healthy shots’ of beet, green apple, fresh lime, and ginger. Down time (to swim, snorkel, read, bike, lounge on the beach) precedes late-afternoon spa treatments, and long soaks in my deep-soaking tub or outdoor rain shower framed in foliage. Dinner — follow the winding, lantern-lit pathway to the sushi bar (for torched lobster rolls) or Freedom, the fine-dining restaurant (featuring fresh-catch of the day) — is enjoyed make-up free and in a simple sundress. Room service (best at sunset and wearing a cushy robe and slippers) is served in room or on the terraced deck overlooking the sea.
Pineapples and Queen’s Bath
It is MJ, again, who convinces me to leave the resort, and see the island — known for its pineapple farms, salt flats, rare colony of seahorses, and wild ocean beauty. Every day, a blackboard menu appears outside Freedom restaurant, as if by magic, detailing the day’s events (yoga, guided snorkeling and kayaking, nature walks). But The Cove staff also leads customized excursions, in my case, a half-day, northern island tour with MJ to see the pineapple farms, and famous Queen’s Bath, Glass Window Bridge, and Sapphire Blue Hole (where adventurers jump off cliffs into the deep, indigo-blue saltwater pool).
Just 2 miles wide and 100 miles long (and completely void of traffic lights), Eleuthra is said to be the birthplace of the Bahamas. The island was founded in 1648 when a group of Puritans set sail in pursuit of religious freedom and was shipwrecked here (on the northern end). They named the beautiful, untamed land Eleuthera which, in ancient Greek, translates to freedom.
Today — while Eleuthra’s neighbor, Harbour Island (just a five-minute ferry ride) receives most of the region’s glitz-and-glam attention — still-quiet Eleuthra has its own share of celebrity swag. Musician Lenny Kravitz (whose mother is Bahamian) has long owned a home here, not far from The Cove, while in the southern tier of the island, a new golf club is being designed by Tiger Woods. Eleuthra’s first major recognition came centuries ago, however, when American painter Winslow Homer (in 1884), painted what many believe is The Cove resort today. Titled “The Coming Storm,” the painting hangs in the National Gallery of Art in Washington D.C. Another of Homer’s works, “The Glass Window Bridge,” capturing the exact swirly point where the deep-blue Atlantic Ocean meets the turquoise Caribbean Sea, is on display at The Brooklyn Museum of Art.
The late Queen Elizabeth II is also forever immortalized here, with her namesake “Queen’s Bath,” although there is no evidence she ever bathed here. The warm, bath-temperature seawater pools were formed over the years through the erosion of rocks by the Atlantic’s crashing waves. In low tide and when the ocean is calm, it is safe to walk the craggy rock formations to the pools, and even soak. But many days, as with my visit, the ocean — while beautiful in its spray — is wildly rough, making it impossible to even access the pools. Still, it’s worth making the stop for the stunning visual.
Enroute to our final destination — one of the island’s many pineapple farms — MJ veers onto a bumpy dirt road, rife with potholes, and stops by a tree low hanging with fruit. “Wild dilly,” she announces. And in moments, she is scooping up a perfectly ripe specimen from the ground. “Have you ever tried? The taste and texture is a lot like a pear. But sweeter, like brown sugar.” Pausing to cut open the plump, yellow-hued fruit, she notes that while I will view the small pineapple plants taking root in the fields, I must return in June. For the harvest and festival.
“Eleuthera is the pineapple heaven of the Caribbean, and some say, the world,” she laughs. And it all comes ripe in June.”
Return in Time for Spa
We return to the resort in time for my final — and new-to-the-spa-menu — treatment by Body Bliss which utilizes my birth month, day, and year to customize the massage oil used. Nantana, my therapist and yoga instructor for the past few days, smiles as she aptly mixes my formula of rose, lavender, orange, and geranium oils.
“You are a number six [in numerology],” she explains. “Which means you grow in depth throughout your life and achieve your goals through kindness. Giving comes naturally to you. But you must be careful not to give away too much. Save a little for yourself.”
For the next hour or so, I melt onto the table as Nantana, originally from Thailand, incorporates varying massage techniques: pressure point, Thai stretching (working hard on my sciatica), deep abdominal, and facial massage. I literally stagger back to the beach house where I sip fresh ginger tea and honey, and settle onto the terrace for my last Eleuthra sunset.
For a split second, watching the swirls of pinks and blues converge into a romantic tapestry over the sea, I am tempted to return (as MJ suggests, in June for pineapple season), but with my partner. I know he will love the oceanfront house, the turtle watching and snorkeling, the terraced patio just steps from the water, and definitely the deep-sea fishing. But there’s also something magical (and safe) about traveling here alone.
Like the phantom solo traveler, who left just hours before my arrival, I have also found my own rhythm here — in the beach house’s relaxing neutral interiors and art-inspired coffee table books, in the ocean’s mesmerizing cobalt, aquamarine, turquoise, and periwinkle blues, in the starfish and sea turtles, morning yoga and afternoon spa treatments. Unlike anywhere I’ve traveled solo, my door (and my soul) is wide open here. I do what I want — walk, write, swim, spa, bathe, shower, eat, sleep — when I want. I answer to no one and accommodate no one.
And as Nantana’s sage words echo in my head, “save some for yourself,” I pause on that future invite.
Self care at its finest.
Cover image, courtesy of The Cove Eleuthra
