BIMINI
"It was cool and almost dark after the
glare of the coral road and (he) had a gin
and tonic water with a piece of lime peel
in the glass and a few drops of Angostura
in the drink. Mr. Bobby was behind the bar
looking terrible. Four Negro boys were playing
billiards, occasionally lifting the table
when necessary to bring off a difficult carom.
Two of the crew of the yacht that was tied
up at the slip were in the bar and as Thomas
Hudson's eyes adjusted to the light it was
dim and cool and pleasant." So said Ernest
Hemingway in his novel, Islands in the Stream,
describing quasi-fictional adventures in
Bimini.
Now, here I was 65 years later drinking a Kalik beer in the same bar
with my new dive buddy Paul. It was still dim and cool and pleasant,
but Mr. Bobby was long gone and no one, not even those of politically
incorrect appellation, were shooting pool. Yet the spirit of Hemingway
still seemed to prevail in the Compleat Angler bar. I felt I had stepped
through a time warp, as if the 50 miles between Bimini and Miami were
a portal to the past instead of an easy seaplane flight to modern-day
dive adventure.
Outside, in Alice Town, the golf carts and mopeds
plied the colorful King's Highway (obviously
not a very powerful king to have so short and
insignificant a road named in his honor) while
fishing yachts lined the docks at the Bimini
Big Game Fishing Club and Weech's Marina. Here,
inside the bar, the CNN broadcast sort of spoiled
the illusion of yesteryear. But at least they
had the volume turned down making it possible
for us to easily carry on about the wonders of
the day's dive holiday. "Did you see how many
fish there were on that wreck!" "The sponges
on the wall were awesome!" "Can you even believe
the vis we had today!?" "I'm amazed that nurse
shark just stayed there and let me take his picture!".
The pictures on the bar's walls showed men and
fish, each long dead by now, ghosts from a time
when the sea was deemed an inexhaustible resource
for the pure pleasure of manly men. But this
day, our conversation was about the glory that
still remains and the beauty that defines the
Bimini underwater world.
The Biminis represent the closest Bahamian islands to the U.S. mainland,
and as such get significant visitation by pleasure yachts, as well as
tourists who arrive by air. While North and South Bimini are the best
known of the islands, the string of islands extends 28 miles and includes
Turtle Rocks, Piquet Rocks, Holm Cay, Gun Cay, North and South Cat Cays,
Sandy Cay, and Ocean Cay. Aside from an exclusive private enclave on
Cat Cay, the population of the Biminis is concentrated on North and South
Bimini.
Ponce de Leon searched for his Fountain of Youth here, and the famed
sunken road of Atlantis supposedly lies just offshore. But despite the
mythical symbolism attached to these islands, the Bimini that most tourists
will experience is the quiet relaxation of South Bimini, or perhaps the
casual commerce of the small bars and restaurants nestled between the King's
and Queen's Highway on North Bimini. Mostly though, it's about the sea.
For sportfishing or for diving, in our times as in Hemingway's, Bimini
is about the sea.
My Bimini expedition began aboard a Chalk's Ocean Airways flight departing
from Miami's Watson Island. After so many overcrowded and frenetic airports
in my life, the Chalks' experience has always been a bit of a relief.
Just a short cab ride from Miami International (or in my case, an hour's
drive from Key Largo), the small terminal has easy parking right outside
and no-hassle check-in procedures. Of course, these 17-passenger Gruman
Mallard seaplanes are a bit light on cargo capacity, so I had an excess
baggage charge for traveling with both camera and dive gear. But less
equipment-intensive divers should have no trouble, especially since there
is little need to pack lots of clothes when traveling to Bimini. Casual
is definitely the style of both the clothing and the life of this particular
Island in the (Gulf) Stream. |Scuba
Bimini| or |Bimini Undersea| |
