A Few Days in the Exumas
Before this trip, if you had asked me where the Exumas were, I probably could not have pointed to them on a map.
Five days later, I was wondering how a place this beautiful has stayed so quiet.
At the end of spring, my boyfriend, his family, and I spent five days on Great Exuma. It was my first time there and my third trip to the Bahamas after visits to Atlantis and Bimini, both of which felt completely different. The Exumas were quieter. Slower. Less polished in some ways and somehow more special because of it.
Getting there was an adventure in itself. From Denver, my boyfriend and I took a red eye to Miami and then hopped on a short flight to Exuma. The airport was tiny. Immigration could barely handle one flight at a time, and baggage claim consisted of a man wheeling luggage through a garage door before customs. It felt like we had landed somewhere that had not yet been discovered by mass tourism.
The island itself only reinforced that feeling. The roads were narrow and often barely fit two cars side by side. Stores closed for Sundays and holidays, which meant we accidentally went two days without a grocery run. Even when businesses were open, people seemed in no hurry to do much of anything. Locals gathered outside shops, listening to music, talking with friends, and wandering inside every now and then for another beer. Everything moved on island time.
I think places like this are becoming increasingly rare.
The Exumas are not nearly as well known as destinations like Hawaii or Turks and Caicos, and I suspect part of that comes down to infrastructure. The airport is small, flights are limited, and the island still feels like it belongs mostly to the people who live there. But driving around, I noticed construction beginning on parts of the island and wondered how long it will stay this way. Great Exuma is large enough to grow if it wants to.
Part of me hopes it stays exactly as it is.
The house we stayed in certainly made it easy to slow down. It had a pool, a hot tub, a dock, its own beach, and direct access to the water. Every morning, sea turtles would swim by to say hello. On our last morning, while we were all sitting on the dock drinking coffee, a blacktip shark casually passed by. Seeing that shark while half awake and holding a cup of coffee may have been my favorite moment of the entire trip.
I had been excited about diving, but not so excited that I felt disappointed when our dives were cancelled because of the wind. In fact, it ended up feeling oddly freeing. Instead of running from activity to activity, we stayed at the house, kayaked to nearby sandbars, spent time in the water, and simply enjoyed being together.
I think I needed that more than I realized.
One of my favorite beaches was actually the one right outside our house. There was plenty to explore, even if the underwater landscape was surprisingly barren. I had expected coral reefs everywhere, but most places we snorkeled were mostly sand. We also spent one afternoon at Jolly Hall Beach, which was absolutely pristine. No beach chairs. No vendors. No crowds. Just calm water and a stretch of sand that felt almost untouched.
Our best meal happened completely by accident. After spending several hours at Jolly Hall, we headed into town for lunch. The two restaurants I had picked out were both closed for the holiday. Thankfully, my boyfriend's mom found a spot called Copia at the Peace and Plenty Hotel.
I am willing to acknowledge that hunger can make any meal taste better, but this place was genuinely fantastic. We started with seafood fritters and wings, both with flavors that felt uniquely Bahamian. Then came mahi mahi bowls, pizza, and steak burritos. I would happily order any of them again, especially the mahi mahi. My boyfriend's mom and I also discovered the dessert case and immediately brought a few slices of cake home with us.
Not every memory from the trip was quite as relaxing.
Within ten minutes of arriving at the house, I managed to get stung by a wasp. Twice.
I have a very real fear of wasps and had somehow made it through life without ever being stung. I had just walked down to the beach in linen pants and a swimsuit to join everyone for a photo when suddenly I felt a burning pain in the back of my leg.
The next day, it had swollen about ten times its original size.
Not exactly the start I had envisioned.
As for wildlife, even without the dives, there were plenty of encounters.
One morning while snorkeling near the house, I found a tiny baby lobster climbing along a buoy rope surrounded by bright coral. It blended in so well that it almost disappeared entirely. I have a soft spot for juvenile animals. There is something fun about seeing all the same features and behaviors packed into such a tiny package.
I also encountered a barracuda that absolutely had it out for me.
Most animals do not scare me. Barracuda do.
Years ago, one charged me underwater, and I have never fully forgiven the species. This one was at least four feet long and seemed particularly interested in both my jewelry and my camera housing, both of which are reflective. It followed me around and made several approaches that felt a little too enthusiastic for my comfort. I eventually started bringing my boyfriend's dive knife with me, and he happily got in the water carrying his speargun just in case my new enemy decided to make another appearance.
The biggest surprise of the trip was our boat excursion to swim with the pigs.
I had seen photos online and honestly thought it might be a little underwhelming.
I was completely wrong.
As soon as our boat approached the island, the pigs came squealing down the beach and launched themselves into the water. They were also much larger than I expected.
Somehow, I was still the first one to jump in.
I turned around and yelled, "Come on! This is what we're here for!"
We fed them carrots and later got to hold piglets. I had confidently told my boyfriend beforehand that I probably would not touch one. Then a tour guide set a piglet down, it started running away, and he yelled, "Grab it!"
Years of calf scramble experience apparently prepared me perfectly for this moment. I scooped up the little guy and held him like a baby until he practically fell asleep.
We also fed iguanas, played with stingrays, and jumped off the top of the boat into unbelievably clear water.
It was one of those days that ended up being far more fun than I expected.
If South Africa taught me patience while chasing wildlife, the Exumas taught me something else entirely.
For most family trips, I am the planner. I book the flights, choose the hotels, figure out transportation, and build itineraries down to the smallest details. I genuinely enjoy it, but it also means I spend part of every trip making sure everything goes according to plan.
This trip was different.
My boyfriend's mom planned everything. My only job was to show up and enjoy it.
And honestly, that felt like a gift.
The Exumas move slowly. At first, it can almost feel inconvenient. But eventually, if you let yourself settle into the pace of the island, something changes. You stop checking the time. You stop worrying about the next thing. You become more present.
I came home from this trip feeling genuinely rested, which is not something I can say very often.
If someone handed me a plane ticket to the Exumas tomorrow, I would tell them this: do not rush. The island will not move any faster for you.