It was permanently at rest, disintegrating back into the sea. Rolling waves bathed sleeping steel structures entirely in salts yielding a rusty sort of reds, oranges and yellows. Each wave, a ticker of erosion signaling that one day, the historic vessel would disappear. All that remains must bleed back into which it was born from. Museums of the Earth were my favorite.
The same water that eroded The Lady Gallant ship, gave life to nearby sting rays, sharks and dolphins in snorkeling excursions. A couple nearby photographing for matrimony, promised each other a forever. Perhaps, the fading ship, a signal of “till death do us part.”
The Lady Gallant had once made freight trips from Belize City and washed up on shore during Hurricane Mitch. The self-made graveyard gave an unusual contrast to a striking sunset. This one different, a new fiery fire, a new language of the sky, a movie scene created by nature, ship, and a script of the ocean.
Nearby in the habitable Radio Beach, a young and fearless boy sold coconuts. A serious face and approach meant business, and he called for it with tactful words. He saw me carrying a box of bahamian pizza made from sweetened dough, a queue of supporting the locals. How is Edith’s Pizza he asked? It’s so good and sweet, I simply respond knowing he already knew the answer. Despite my obsession of buying coconuts wherever I go, this transaction was earned and I remained on Radio Beach, eating a sugary dough, drinking a nearby coconut and hunting down conch seashells.
Conch salad signs hung on old colored shacks everywhere. Many of them, earned their touristic customers through reputation. On King’s Highway, the main getaway strip of only 7 miles in length, eating conch was a way of life. Conch is native to the bahamas and lives inside of its beautiful shell. Some animals like hermit crabs, move into these artful shells after they have been abandoned, while others like conch animals are born into them. This is the magic of oceanic lifeforms. Humans will make food out of whatever their local lands are blessed with, a reminder that the foods we eat are precious, living and sacrificed for human life.
Before reaching our sleeping grounds, we unlock our golf cart. It’s the main way of transport throughout the island. Racing through the highway with a reminder to stay on the left side of the road brings us back to modern grounds at the Resorts World Hilton encompassing over 872 acres of land. Infinity pools appear to splash into the bay, the casino eats up your money, and a manmade Luna Beach constructs perfection. A eerie contrast to the realities of the split island between local life and resort life appear, but the local workers here appear fortunate, happy and ready to please. Bimini is island for a hint of luxury, with a handful of adventure where a 7 mile stretch of land means you can literally do and see it all.
At 6pm, we board the FSR ferry and endure a comfortable 2 hour ride through the Atlantic back to Miami.