Story and photos by DinaRella
Part One
Easter Sunday started out smooth and serene. First, the trek down the pike to Port Everglades was traffic-free as the sun did its early a.m. east side rise illuminating the Fort Lauderdale skies like Jesus rising into heaven. Second, the general unruly Gulf Stream was in a chilled-out holiday spirit churning out nothing bigger than two footers for the 50-mile crossing to Bimini. And third, being welcomed by unapologetically cyan blue waters and semolina-colored beaches stretching farther than the eye could spy, somehow helped make the hour-plus wait to clear immigration feel worth it. Around that time was also the beginning of the end of the good weather and my upbeat mood.
Apparently, I arrived to the $400-a-night Hilton along with the entire populace of off-island-resident Biminites returning to their roots for Homecoming Weekend… ALL of whom were checking in at the same time. The chaotic clusterf**k resembled a cross between Vegas during Super Bowl and the day after Christmas return line at Ross Dress for Less. Victorious in a quick bag drop and clothes swap, I went rushing over to the adjacent marina where the lovely yet lonely 45-foot Streamline spec’d with quint 400Rs and stare-worthy traffic cone orange and gray paint that I passed on the way to the hotel, was craving attention.
With no captain in sight to chat up in the bizarrely empty marina, the only divulged detail from the dock master was that the owner was Cuban. Good to know! Considering three days of gushing rains were projected to pour in by early evening, stop number two was the Bimini excursions office to book the sunken Prohibition era S.S. Sapona shipwreck tour and tick that bucket list box.
At 1:15, I paid $110 for my ticket. By 1:25 p.m., offshore waters had ramped up substantially and the trip was nixed. (The story reads the same with the next two attempts – booked and canceled times two.) Polishing off Caribbean rums potions and splashing into the gin-clear ocean at the Resorts World Beach Club was how Easter afternoon ended. By happy hour, BLISS turned to BUST and this would be the last I’d see of the sun and swimmable conditions, but not the rum.
Come Monday morning, the soundtrack playing from Bimini’s storied past I fantasized about waking up to under my window down on the pier, came not from the howling inboards of Cuban-born, Colombian yayo-smuggling (that’s cocaine for those who missed “Scarface”) kingpins Willy Falcon and Sal Magluta’s V-bottom Seahawk. Instead, I was gifted with the howling of 50-mph whipping winds, which by Tuesday pushed the incessant rains through the fifth floor ceiling and into the hotel and casino doors.
Hanging in the room got old fast, so day two I hit the submerged streets of North Bimini’s narrow seven-mile strip to go roaming in the rain down King’s Highway, from Bailey Town to Alice Town and back. Of the two main islands and series of small cays forming the westernmost chain in the Bahamas, North Bimini is the lively one, in comparison to South Bimini, which is home to the airport and accessed by a small ferry.
On my quest for conch, cocktails and content, I coincidently came across the ruins of the Compleat Angler, the historic hotel made famous by Ernest Hemingway in the mid-1930s. Much like his love and keenness for Key West, the author had a special connection to the relaxed isle, and in between fishing, fighting, boxing and boozing with the locals… he redirected his energy to his destiny writing novels.
He put the Compleat Angler on the map as a major tourist attraction, for it was there that he penned “The Old Man and the Sea” (required reading in Bimini public schools) and “Islands in the Stream.” Destroyed by a blaze in January of 2006; tragically the owner Julian Brown also perished after guiding guests to safety. Prior to the fire, the remote refuge even featured a dedicated collection of his memorabilia. In the publishing’s of Ashley Saunders, the historian, artist and creator of the Dolphin House Museum, describes Hemingway’s Jesus-like status in the eyes of the natives, and contributes this to the novelist’s immortalization.
After the literary pit-stop at the Angler, I waded my way to a few cool little watering holes with windows open to the sea, where my idea of tearing apart fresh lobster with my fingers while sharing libations with the locals didn’t go according to plan. All three of my choices to chill and chat at including: Ebbie’s Bonefish Club & Conch Stand, Joe’s Conch Shack and Stuart’s Conch Stand, were all water logged. Do people not eat when it rains on this island? Forced to find something else to do, I decided to decorate the conch-inspired shacks with RDP-embellished dollar bills before ending the day back at the hotel eating costly conch fritters and trying to convince myself I liked Kalik, the local beer.
Part two of this story takes you inside the historic Bimini Big Game Club. I moved here for the last day and night in search of new scenery, sun (just kidding) and uhm maybe a motorboat or two. What I left with was having discovered the bona fide, buoyant Bimini vibe!
I’m ending this by sending RD a big THANK YOU. He approved this trip for me to go to Bimini for my birthday, on his first night in Miami for the boat show about 6 hours into celebrating his arrival in the 305-area code. If only this April’s Bimini Storm turned out the same way as the following two weeks at Desert Storm and Super Cat Fest West, with dry days and a dizzying boat count!
Part One
Easter Sunday started out smooth and serene. First, the trek down the pike to Port Everglades was traffic-free as the sun did its early a.m. east side rise illuminating the Fort Lauderdale skies like Jesus rising into heaven. Second, the general unruly Gulf Stream was in a chilled-out holiday spirit churning out nothing bigger than two footers for the 50-mile crossing to Bimini. And third, being welcomed by unapologetically cyan blue waters and semolina-colored beaches stretching farther than the eye could spy, somehow helped make the hour-plus wait to clear immigration feel worth it. Around that time was also the beginning of the end of the good weather and my upbeat mood.
Apparently, I arrived to the $400-a-night Hilton along with the entire populace of off-island-resident Biminites returning to their roots for Homecoming Weekend… ALL of whom were checking in at the same time. The chaotic clusterf**k resembled a cross between Vegas during Super Bowl and the day after Christmas return line at Ross Dress for Less. Victorious in a quick bag drop and clothes swap, I went rushing over to the adjacent marina where the lovely yet lonely 45-foot Streamline spec’d with quint 400Rs and stare-worthy traffic cone orange and gray paint that I passed on the way to the hotel, was craving attention.
With no captain in sight to chat up in the bizarrely empty marina, the only divulged detail from the dock master was that the owner was Cuban. Good to know! Considering three days of gushing rains were projected to pour in by early evening, stop number two was the Bimini excursions office to book the sunken Prohibition era S.S. Sapona shipwreck tour and tick that bucket list box.
At 1:15, I paid $110 for my ticket. By 1:25 p.m., offshore waters had ramped up substantially and the trip was nixed. (The story reads the same with the next two attempts – booked and canceled times two.) Polishing off Caribbean rums potions and splashing into the gin-clear ocean at the Resorts World Beach Club was how Easter afternoon ended. By happy hour, BLISS turned to BUST and this would be the last I’d see of the sun and swimmable conditions, but not the rum.
Come Monday morning, the soundtrack playing from Bimini’s storied past I fantasized about waking up to under my window down on the pier, came not from the howling inboards of Cuban-born, Colombian yayo-smuggling (that’s cocaine for those who missed “Scarface”) kingpins Willy Falcon and Sal Magluta’s V-bottom Seahawk. Instead, I was gifted with the howling of 50-mph whipping winds, which by Tuesday pushed the incessant rains through the fifth floor ceiling and into the hotel and casino doors.
Hanging in the room got old fast, so day two I hit the submerged streets of North Bimini’s narrow seven-mile strip to go roaming in the rain down King’s Highway, from Bailey Town to Alice Town and back. Of the two main islands and series of small cays forming the westernmost chain in the Bahamas, North Bimini is the lively one, in comparison to South Bimini, which is home to the airport and accessed by a small ferry.
On my quest for conch, cocktails and content, I coincidently came across the ruins of the Compleat Angler, the historic hotel made famous by Ernest Hemingway in the mid-1930s. Much like his love and keenness for Key West, the author had a special connection to the relaxed isle, and in between fishing, fighting, boxing and boozing with the locals… he redirected his energy to his destiny writing novels.
He put the Compleat Angler on the map as a major tourist attraction, for it was there that he penned “The Old Man and the Sea” (required reading in Bimini public schools) and “Islands in the Stream.” Destroyed by a blaze in January of 2006; tragically the owner Julian Brown also perished after guiding guests to safety. Prior to the fire, the remote refuge even featured a dedicated collection of his memorabilia. In the publishing’s of Ashley Saunders, the historian, artist and creator of the Dolphin House Museum, describes Hemingway’s Jesus-like status in the eyes of the natives, and contributes this to the novelist’s immortalization.
After the literary pit-stop at the Angler, I waded my way to a few cool little watering holes with windows open to the sea, where my idea of tearing apart fresh lobster with my fingers while sharing libations with the locals didn’t go according to plan. All three of my choices to chill and chat at including: Ebbie’s Bonefish Club & Conch Stand, Joe’s Conch Shack and Stuart’s Conch Stand, were all water logged. Do people not eat when it rains on this island? Forced to find something else to do, I decided to decorate the conch-inspired shacks with RDP-embellished dollar bills before ending the day back at the hotel eating costly conch fritters and trying to convince myself I liked Kalik, the local beer.
Part two of this story takes you inside the historic Bimini Big Game Club. I moved here for the last day and night in search of new scenery, sun (just kidding) and uhm maybe a motorboat or two. What I left with was having discovered the bona fide, buoyant Bimini vibe!
I’m ending this by sending RD a big THANK YOU. He approved this trip for me to go to Bimini for my birthday, on his first night in Miami for the boat show about 6 hours into celebrating his arrival in the 305-area code. If only this April’s Bimini Storm turned out the same way as the following two weeks at Desert Storm and Super Cat Fest West, with dry days and a dizzying boat count!
