A Caribbean Castaway in Barbados
Beach in Barbados. Photo by Canva
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Recently, I was looking out my window at a mountain of white. A huge blizzard stalled over Cape Breton Island and dumped a whopping 100 centimeters of heavy, wet snow. The banks were taller than me. I couldn’t even find my car. It was buried.
Cape Breton is not a tropical island, but in the midst of Eastern Canada’s long winters, Cape Bretoners long to be on some beach somewhere in the tropics.
A state of emergency was called during that blizzard and I found myself stuck in the house for a week. I was stressed and tired of shoveling.
As I stared out my window at the wall of white and listened to the wind howl, I let my eyes close, and my mind wander back in time to that place and that moment when I discovered a beautiful tropical beach.
On that day almost a decade ago, a raging blizzard was forecast to hit hard, but I escaped just in time to make it to paradise. Although it was so long ago, the memory is still fresh in my mind. How could I forget that time I had a beautiful, sandy beach all to myself on a tropical Caribbean Island?
The coconut-scented candle I lit and the relaxing ocean sounds I downloaded onto my phone for moments like this lulled me into a trance-like state that took me far, far away from the howling wind and sound of snowplows outside.
A Memory of Barbados
I’m taken to a place far away from my little island in the cool North Atlantic to an even smaller island in the warm waters of the Caribbean. And I remember a little beach on the west coast of Barbados near Payne’s Bay.
On cold winter nights like this, I often let myself be taken back to that place so many years ago. Hard to believe it’s been almost a decade since I first walked onto that little slice of paradise, but I remember that moment as if I was just there yesterday.
A friendly lady who introduced herself as my host was waiting for me at the gate of the apartment complex I was staying at for the week. After I checked in, she led me to the best room she had. Luckily for me, no one else was staying there that week, so I had the whole place to myself.
Discovering the Private Beach
My room was cozy, with a deck overlooking a beautiful garden. I had picked a good time to travel to the island, it seemed. Crowds aren’t really my thing, so Barbados was already starting to feel like my kind of place.
A short time after my arrival, as I was settling in, there was a knock on my door. “I forgot to give you this.” My host handed me a key on a plain keychain that simply said “beach” on it. “It’s the key to the gate that opens up to your private beach.
You just turn left outside our gate, walk straight down the hill, and cross the street. You’ll see the alleyway, and at the end of it is the gate.”
A private beach? I was sure I read online that all beaches in Barbados are public. I thought surely she must mean that I can access a stretch of beach that connects to other stretches of beaches that are accessed by everyone.
An Evening Arrival
That evening, I relaxed on my deck with a Banks beer as little green monkeys swung in the trees. All the new sounds and smells kept me engaged in my surroundings despite the fact that I was so tired from traveling that day.
The sound of little birds chirping and calypso music coming from a nearby home eventually lulled me into the relaxing state that I had been yearning for.
At one point, I heard an old-fashioned ice cream truck go by, something that’s a thing of the past back home. The smell of food cooking somewhere in the neighborhood filled the air around me. I had no idea what it was. Something spicy and something that had to be delicious if it smelled that good.
It was a hot, humid evening that would have been unbearable if it wasn’t for the light breeze coming off the ocean. The sun was going down, and the sky started to turn brilliant colors.
I didn’t want to move from that spot, but I wanted to be by the sea to see the sun to bed. You only live once, right? I grabbed that beach key and headed down the hill.
The Journey to Paradise
I reached the gate, and after jiggling the key a bit, I finally got it open to reveal a dark alleyway. I paused in horror. This looked far too sketchy to be a good idea, but I made it that far, so I pushed on anyway. I had to see what this beach was all about.
I took my cell phone out of my pocket and turned on the flashlight app to light up the dark passageway. I could see the light at the other end of the alleyway, which I presumed was the fabled sandy stretch. So close, yet so far. I took my chances.
I moved quickly through the alleyway towards the light. At the opening was a set of stairs leading to what I can only describe as heavenly. Before me was a small stretch of golden sand lined by lush vegetation and the sparkling azure waters of the Caribbean Sea.
The Isolation of a Private Beach
It didn’t take long for me to figure out how this beach came to be called a private beach in a country where there is supposedly no such thing; anyone could come onto this golden stretch of paradise, but only if they dared to wade through the pounding surf while climbing over sharp rocks.
Believe me, I tried, and it was no easy task!
Around the imposing rock face that also lined “my” beach, was another equally enticing stretch of sand, but I was unable to reach it. I trudged through the surf and before I knew it, the rocks were digging into my feet. So close, but yet so far.
I was happy to just stay put away from the crowds. And that’s when it sunk in. No one would be joining for sunset that evening. It was just me, the seabirds, and the surf.
I had joined an exclusive club, one that included the lucky few who had ever been able to say they had an entire beach in the Caribbean all to themselves.
For the rest of that week, I went back and forth between my little private slice of paradise and exploring the rest of the island.
No matter how far I ventured or what I did on any given day, I always ended up on that beach, and every time I went there, it was just me and the seabirds enjoying the soft golden sand and the gently rolling waves.
Pondering Life on a Deserted Island
Sometimes, I’d sit and admire the boats coming and going and watch the birds diving in the bay for their next meal as the smell of the sea filled my nose and the taste of the saltwater breeze landed on my lips.
I’d walk up and down that stretch with my feet dug into the soft sand or lie down and close my eyes to be gently lulled to sleep by the sounds of palm trees gently swaying nearby. Other times, I’d just sit and stare off into the horizon and imagine I was marooned on a deserted island, far away from civilization.
One day, I even decided to throw caution to the wind and ventured into the clear, turquoise water alone. It started with dipping my toes in the surf, which progressed to wading up to my knees. The water was so warm and clear that I just couldn’t help myself, so I dove in.
Defending My Private Haven
On another occasion, I watched in amusement as a naïve tourist attempted to make it to my beach. As I watched them carefully navigating the treacherous crossing, I hoped they would give up and turn around.
At last, they were defeated. I could almost see the look of disappointment on their face as they must have been wondering how on earth I got there!
A Priceless Experience
Now, you may not believe my story about having an entire beach in the Caribbean to myself, and I don’t really care if you believe me or not because I know it to be true. Every evening for a week in 2014, I watched the sunset on the Caribbean Sea without another soul in sight.
As the sun slipped towards the horizon and those vibrant colors danced across the sky, the world beyond that gate went on like normal. I enjoyed every moment of my time on my slice of paradise because I knew this was an opportunity that would likely never present itself again in my lifetime.
I don’t need to imagine having a beach in the Caribbean all to myself. I’ve been there, done that, and will never forget it. When things get tough, and the cold Canadian winter gets to me, I just transport myself back to one of the most memorable weeks of my life.
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Author Bio: Andrea Grace is a freelance writer from Nova Scotia, Canada. Besides putting pen to paper, she enjoys photography, traveling and spending time outdoors exploring. However, of all the places she loves to be outdoors, the beach is her all-time favorite!
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