Bahamas Dispatch: The Art of Doing Nothing

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How remote is the Bahamas’ Kamalame Cay? The commute here comprised a flight to Nassau, a charter flight to Andros, then a 20-minute drive across the island to a floating fiberglass platform (or “ferry”) that brought me to this secluded paradise. The travel time may change once Continental brings back direct flights to Andros from the US in November, but in the meantime Kamalame remains far, far off the radar—just ask Javiar and Penelope or Nicole and Keith.

Spanning the entire 96-acre island, Kamalame Cay is a no-frills property that opened almost ten years ago. It redefines luxury: the resort contacted me last week to determine what I might need before my arrival, just so they could have it prepared. Luxury here – for me, anyway – means doing absolutely nothing.

It’s not completely desolate, though. There’s a pool, a tennis court, an overwater spa—the only one in the Bahamas—and the Great House for great food. Oh, and there’s that whole thing about sprawling unspoiled beach and sea. The crystal clear water is knee-deep for almost 1/4 of a mile – it’s that photo on your DeskSaver right now.

As soon as I arrived, the manager brought me to my personal golf cart (every guest gets their own “chariot”), showed me my cottage, and disappeared. I never saw her again. In fact, you don’t have to see anyone if you don’t want to, but there’s evidence people do exist, notably when you wake up to a morning breakfast basket at your door that includes hot banana bread, fruit, and fresh-squeezed orange juice, or a jar of homemade chocolate chip cookies at night.

My 800-square-foot beachfront villa, Coco Plum, features a wrap-around wooden deck, a hammock strung between two coconut trees, and a large separate bathroom that included bathtub, Aveda toiletries, and plenty of shutter windows—five sets in the spacious bathroom alone. The domed wooden ceiling enhances the space, making it less claustrophobic and more relaxed. There’s really no reason to leave.

I did visit the Naturopathic Spa once for a massage. The overwater bungalow is 200 feet out from the shore, and all five treatment rooms are equipped with a glass floor, so I literally gazed into the sea as the masseuse, Staci, exerted so much (requested) pressure that she moved the entire massage table several times. Amazing.

There’s no dress code, no planning, no hawkers, no waking up at 6 am to get the best chairs on the beach, no crowds, and, thankfully, no Sean Paul being blasted from resort bars.