Travel: Pink Sands Resort, Bahamas

( July 22, 2002) Why, you might ask, would anybody leave the heat of a Larchmont July and go to an even hotter place, for a vacation?

Well, we needed a break, and a friend had told us about this wonderful resort in the Bahamas, where celebrities romp amid tropical splendor and the sand is so white it's pink. So we packed up our snorkels and "elegant casual" resort-wear and off we went.

Getting there was not half the fun, although the trip should be easier than it was for us. Just after boarding our Continental jet at Newark, I looked out my porthole and noticed a lot of activity under the left engine. Uniformed men stood with their heads cocked, scratching their chins and gesturing up at the engine housing. I deduced they weren't admiring the paint job, and I was right. "Ladies and gentlemen," the captain said in a soothing voice over the intercom, "We might have a bit of a leak from Engine Number One, so using an abundance of caution, we're checking it out." Abundance of caution. I'm beginning to hate that phrase.

Fifty minutes later, we finally took off, the leak having turned out to be mysterious but not dangerous. That fifty minutes was just long enough to make us miss our Miami connection to Eleuthera. We ended up being sent by van to Fort Lauderdale, where we boarded the last flight of the day to Governor's Harbour, half-way down the island. Usually, if you're going to Harbour Island, you fly to North Eleuthera airport, literally a 2-minute taxi ride from the ferry dock for Harbour Island. But the runway is being extended, and the airport is closed to jets. So for the next month or so, you have to fly to Governor's Harbour, and Continental pays for a 45-minute taxi ride up to North Eleuthera. Another taxi took us to the dock, and a water taxi took us on the five-minute jaunt over to Harbour Island. From there, yet another taxi took us to Pink Sands, all of 2 minutes away. We could have walked it, but by that time we were pretty wilted in the 90° heat, with humidity to match.

One reason we could have walked it was that by this time we were luggage-free. Oh yes, that missed connection meant that while we were vanning it to Fort Lauderdale, our bags were sitting on the tarmac in Miami. We were therefore thrilled when, although we arrived late in the day, the resort's manager opened the retail shop for us and let us buy a couple of tee shirts and a pair of shorts each. Thus equipped, we were ready to explore the resort.

Owned by Island Records founder Chris Blackwell and renovated a couple of years ago, Pink Sands is an intimate hideaway for those who demand quality but eschew formality. General Managers Nancy and Clemens von Merveldt make you feel at home, as though you're staying with rich friends who have an incredibly fine chef and extremely well-appointed guest rooms. Nancy and Clemens came to Pink Sands after managing resorts in Bahrain and Lamu, a resort island off the coast of Kenya. They run the resort with a deft combination of American efficiency and cosmopolitan élan.

The food is some of the finest we've had anywhere in our island travels, rivalled only by the superb French restaurants on St. Bart's, in the French West Indies. Most meals are served al fresco in a courtyard off the main building. Our only real complaint about Pink Sands was that this dining area, cut off from the cooling sea breezes by heavy vegetation, tended to become very hot and humid. We would have preferred to take every meal at the delightful oceanside Blue Bar.

We could have rented a golf cart for forays to other restaurants on the island, but we never felt the need to leave Pink Sands for meals. In fact, we left the resort only once, for a stroll through the only town on three-mile-long Harbour Island, Dunmore Town. Founded by royalists fleeing the American Revolution, Dunmore Town has been called the "Nantucket of the Bahamas" because of its charming New England-style houses complete with white picket fences. Most people get around the narrow, hilly streets in golf carts or on foot, stopping frequently to chat with neighbors or swerving to avoid the island's most raucous citizens, a crew of arrogant roosters.

Our days settled into a sybaritic routine. After breakfast, we'd amble down to the beach, ready to start the hard work of unwinding and forgetting our "normal" lives back home. Our favorite place to spend the day was under a thatched bohio, near the brilliantly blue beach hut. There isn't much to do on the beach at Pink Sands, except read and wait for the beach waitress to stroll by and ask if you'd like anything from the bar. Pink Sands in on the Atlantic side of the island, so there is some surf, and the lack of a fringing reef means the snorkeling is not good. But the water is refreshingly cool and quite calm enough for contemplative floating and lolling. If you're feeling more energetic, put on your running shoes and head off down the beach. The sand is hard-packed enough near the waterline for easy jogging.

There are a few other resorts along this incredible stretch of powdery sand, but no crowds. I suppose the area is a bit busier in the winter, but there are no large hotels. A few impressive private houses are scattered along the beach, including those of designer Diane von Furstenberg and super-model Elle McPherson. Celebrities are known to frequent Pink Sands, and indeed, Robert DeNiro was arriving as we were leaving. I expect the rich and famous like this place in part because they can hide away in the discreetly landscaped, very private cottages dotting the resort.

Pink Sands has a pool, but in the week we were there, we saw only one couple using it. With such a supernally beautiful beach steps away, why would anyone choose the pool?

If you're looking for a truly restful, quiet, luxurious vacation, Pink Sands might be for you. Bring plenty of sunscreen and books, but leave your dressy clothes at home. If you go, tell Nancy and Clemens "hi" for me.

Pink Sands, Harbour Island, Bahamas
http://pinksandsresort.com

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