Day One - Discovery

Nassau – Eleuthera: OK, I now have something tangible to NOT look forward to on next Saturday.  I wasn’t instilled with a great deal of confidence at the “Southern Air Charter” desk, and then came the delay (no big deal) and then…the plane.  Now, obviously I made it here just fine, but…. The exterior of the plane was unremarkable, if small, though I noticed a disturbing amount of epoxy that had been slathered around some of the rivets on the wings.  The cockpit was very modern looking, but the cabin…… first of all, I had to bend double to fit. I have issues with claustrophobia to begin with, and this felt like I was voluntarily folding myself into a rather shabby aluminum tomb. By shabby, I mean that there was old duct tape holding the seats together, large cracks in the walls, dents and gouges in the interior.

 I’m pretty cool with flying, but this genuinely had me nervous. Not a word from our pilots, just slam the door shut, roll out to the runway, and make a rolling start – no pause for clearance from the tower, nothing. Just go. But, the engines purred like a fine machine, and takeoff and landing were incredibly smooth. 
Video - Landing at GHB

GHB – Krista’s comment: “I’ve never been to an airport that’s just a room.”  Couple this with getting swarmed with kids asking for donations to some thing or other.  Then we stepped outside and met Clinton, who, as arranged, had our rental “jeep.” I knew this wouod be a tough pill to swallow, but I peeled off five $100 bills to rent a 1995 Kia Sportage with no working seatbelts, a driver’s side window that wouldn’t roll down, aging tires, and an engine light on. You couldn’t SELL this car in Cincy for $500. As Clinton left us, he reminded us that, when driving, “Stay left, and be right.”  Oh, crap, British driving. The next thing you know we’re barreling down the “Queen’s Highway” on the left side of the road with no seatbelts in a car I don’t trust, both of us laughing nervously all the way. I instructed Krista to shout “Keep left!” every time a car approached from the other direction. I usually responded with “I’m trying….”

            Upon Clinton’s suggestion, we bypassed the gate for “Banana Beach Estates” and headed into the settlement of Governor’s Harbour for groceries and booze. Upon entering GH, the color of the water in the harbor is stunningly turquoise.  We load up at Burrows Grocery / Liquor, and finally head back to the gate to our property.  We enter the gate, and find ourselves heading down into a valley of modest homes – not really what you’d expect from a gated community. Up the other side, and out the “back” gate, we turn left on a sand “road” through the brush which is currently blocked with what looks like Bahamian scouts on a nature hike.  They eventually let us pass, and after 100 yards or so through the brush, we turn into Oceanaire. Back to civilization, BIG TIME.

VIDEO: Welcome to Oceanaire

            This is an absurdly beautiful property. Situated on a bluff right over a seemingly endless pink sand beach, and beautifully decorated and appointed. There is outdoor seating on a ¾ wraparound porch (Where I am right now. Look for the double chair in the very first post). Everything, down to the light fixtures is tasteful, if not beautiful. The view is staggering. We unpack, make a rum cocktail (3/2 parts Dark rum to Coconut rum, Pineapple juice, and mango nectar) and hit the steps down to the beach. By this time, it’s 7:00. We walk south down the beach toward our dinner destination – Sky Beach Club, about ½ mile away - where we have a great sunset meal adjacent to their infinity pool overlooking the ocean.  For you “foodies” – we each started with a vinaigrette salad of mixed local greens with pecans and goat cheese, followed by grilled grouper and rice for Krista, and the grouper special with potatoes and asparagus for me. For you “drinkies” – I have a new favorite warm weather drink. I forget the name, but it’s a Collins glass with slices of lemon and lime over ice, Patron tequila, a touch of simple syrup, and club soda.  It was unspeakably perfect.  Then, we walk back down the beach under an inky sky with more stars than I’ve ever seen before, profoundly clear constellations, like you gave Jackson Pollack a swimming pool filled with India ink, an oversized paintbrush, and a bucket of cream. With the symphony of the surf for accompaniment, and keeping a close eye out for the ghostlike appearance of our steps up the dune, we climb and fall exhausted into bed.