Swimming withSharksin the Bahamas

Swimming with Sharks in the Bahamas
—
sail
away!
Bitter End
Yacht Club, BVI
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—
p.28
inside
Mexico
Tulum’s
pop-up
beach hotel
P. 40
Guatemala
It’s a jungle
out there
P. 58
say cheese!
shoot great
vacation
pictures
P. 16
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“Believe me, my young
friend, there is NOTHING
—Absolute Nothing—
half so much worth
doing as simply
Story by m at t p h e n i x
Photos by z a c h s t ova l l
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I
brought hats to the British Virgin Islands — two of them, in
fact, one for me and one for photographer Zach Stovall, who
works for me and is therefore required to wear funny hats at my
whim. Unfortunately, nobody at the Caribbean’s most renowned
nautical resort seemed fooled for a minute by our snow-white
Army-/Navy-surplus Gilligan caps. Apparently, genuine sailors
don’t go to sea in Birkenstock sandals and bring along their wallets
and iPhones in Ziploc baggies. Well, that was eight bucks wasted.
Virgin Gorda’s North Sound is
all about the boats. Sailors have for
centuries dropped anchor in these
waters, which are protected by lovely
yet treacherous reefs and a handful
of islets pretty enough to make a wall
calendar — places like Prickly Pear (a
243-acre national park with a resident
population of pink flamingos), Eustatia
(once owned by Google co-founder
Larry Page) and Necker (Richard
Branson’s private playground).
The Bitter End Yacht Club presides over this cerulean corner of the
world. Clinging to a mile of Virgin
Gorda’s shoreline, the 38-year-old
resort — whose name, for the uninitiated, refers to a nautical term for the
last bit of a line tied to a “bitt,” the
mooring cleat on the bow of a boat —
is reachable only by boat (or seaplane).
And no surprise, it’s a water-sports
wonderland. Guests can choose from
snorkel, scuba and fishing tours; kiteboarding, windsurfing, kayaking and
stand-up paddle-boarding; and, of
course, sailing. Lots of sailing: The
resort has a fleet of 100 or so vessels
and offers instruction on everything
from Hobie cats and Laser-class racers
to IC24 keelboats and its own 37-foot
racing sloop, Cosmic Warlord.
mo sallah is the bitter end’s new
general manager, and that’s no mere
footnote. Mo is a friend of this magazine and a friend of mine, met while
he presided over the Lighthouse Bay
Resort, on Barbuda’s long and luscious Low Bay Beach. He was, and is,
the most gifted of hosts: easygoing yet
efficient, congenial yet businesslike.
Mo’s new gig is notably more
demanding. There’s almost four
decades of history here, after all, traditions to be honored and scores of
guests whose return visits number in
the double digits. Yet after just a few
months on the job, Mo — under the
affable tutelage of resort manager
Mary Jo Ryan, a 30-year veteran —
was intimate with the Bitter End’s
storied history, clubby rituals and
sprawling grounds, and
he addresses staffers —
and guests — by name.
shore thing
The Bitter End’s new
I just can’t imagine how
general manager,
he does it, but that’s why
Mo Sallah, presides
he’s him and I’m not.
over the 60-acre
resort and leads a
team of 180 staffers.
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“You, uh, wanna drive?” He dutifully
asks each time we get into the boat.
“Captains don’t drive, sailor,” I say,
outraged. “Captains sit up front and
decide where to drive.” He’s relieved,
I’m relieved, and off we go. It’s a mildly
humiliating routine, but it’s the only
way I can get him to wear the hat.
Skinny-dipping
along some lonely
stretch of sand,
Snorkeling on the
reef, and drinks
and dinner at the
Saba Rock Resort
are only a Quick
boat ride awaY.
a seaplane touches down in open
water, and the Bitter End is in a tizzy
as it taxis toward the resort. It’s the
Whale Force One, the floatplane operated by the charter outfit Fly The
Whale. Sailors are practically falling
off their boats for a look, and people
on shore are acting like Lindbergh just
landed in Paris. A few old-timers look
sullen, nursing pints in the pub in their
Sperry Top-Siders and non-Army-/
Navy-surplus captain’s hats, grousing
about some crazy aeroplane showing up
at a respectable sailing resort. The gall.
A sleek motorboat purrs up to the
dock, and two tidy sailor types hop
out, followed by two non-sailor types,
one of whom is Dan Snyder, owner of
the Washington Redskins. We had
seen his logo-emblazoned jet at the
airport, and this motorboat bears
the mark of his $70 million 224-foot
ultra-super-megayacht, Lady Anne.
He comes over after chatting up
i came to the bitter end with the the seaplane pilots. “Nice place you
loose intention of learning how to sail. got here,” he says to Mo. Billionaires.
OK, that’s not entirely true: I arrived
on Virgin Gorda with fantastical mo keeps flashing that smile and
visions of standing at the helm and asking me when we’re going to have a
hurtling out of the North Sound and Hobie cat race. A race. Like now I’m
into the open sea, squinting heroically Dennis Conner, racing sailboats. By all
into the salt spray and barking orders accounts, Hobies are about as sinkable
to first mate Stovall with timber- as rubber duckies, but it’d be just my
shivering authority. Trim this! Hoist luck to make history. I laugh and wag
that! Batten down the other thing! But my finger and stammer a bit (“Oh, I’m
after damned near sinking a Boston gonna ... You old scoundrel ... Don’t
Whaler (a dinghy with the slogan think I’ve ... You bet your ...”), then
“The Unsinkable Legend”) in two feet distract him and make a run for it. I’ll
of water on my first day, I have grave see him later at dinner and say somemisgivings. So does first mate Stovall. thing about those damned hammocks
love for sail
In the classroom, on
the dock and in the
water, Bitter End’s
famed Sailing School
offers guests a range
of sailing instruction.
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at the north end of the resort lies
guy’s trail, a rocky path that ascends
hillside behind the resort. it leads to
a crest 446 feet above sea level.
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despite my short and soggy dinghy
history, I’m resigned to their necessity.
The breeze picked up overnight,
and the sound is looking a little frothy
in the morning light. It’s not exactly
dinghy weather, but Stovall wants to
get out on the water anyway, something about needing to take pictures.
We’re driving the Boston Whaler
into the wind; he’s at the tiller, and
I’m perched up front like Washington
crossing the Delaware. Wavelets are
being too comfortable ... He’s not off slopping over the bow, and the little
the hook ... Wait till tomorrow ... Be motor is coughing and straining. My
there or be a square knot ... har, har ... Birkenstocks are floating around the
Fortunately, for a place that had bottom of the boat. We’re a hundred
a hailing frequency before it had a yards from shore and taking on water
phone number, Bitter End has plenty at an alarming rate. In a nick of time, I
of non-nautical activities. There’s discover that my sailor’s hat has value
a terrific bar, an award-winning spa, beyond the comic: It bails.
another terrific bar, lovely white-sand
Later, I’ll recall Kenneth Grahame’s
beaches and yet another bar. And The Wind in the Willows, the book that
there are some fine hiking trails too.
made me want to grow up to be a water
At the north end of the resort’s 60 rat. Asks Mole, a non-boater: “Is it so
acres lies the start of Guy’s Trail, an nice as all that?” Answers Rat, the most
occasionally steep, rocky path that devoted of boaters: “Nice? It’s the
ascends hillside behind the resort. It only thing. … Believe me,
leads to a breezy crest 446 feet above my young friend, there
sea level, with stupendous views of is nothing — absolute
first-class
Inviting enough to
the sound and beyond. It’s a half- nothing — half so much
lure the saltiest sailor
hour up and a half-hour back, and the worth doing as simply
from his vessel, the
perfect excuse for two-hour nap in a messing about in boats.”
BEYC’s beachfront
cottages look fresh
hammock when you return.
after a 2008 redo.
I don’t usually favor loitering in
one’s hotel room, but for the Bitter
End’s beachfront cottages, stylishly
revamped in 2008, I’m happy to make
an exception. Accessed via an elaborate
network of stairs and walkways, their
view-blessed porches boast big hammocks that’ll knock you out quicker
than Snow White’s poisoned apple.
I don’t usually
favor loitering in
one’s hotel room,
but for the Bitter
End’s beachfront
cottages, stylishly
revamped in 2008,
I’m happy to make
an exception.
dinghies are the rental cars of
the North Sound: Skinny-dipping
along some lonely stretch of sand,
snorkeling on the reef, and drinks
and dinner at the Saba Rock Resort
are only a quick boat ride away. So
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