As
evidenced by the recent Caribbean travel boom, the tableau of human endurance required to navigate contemporary
airports has failed to suppress our desire to escape to a sunny beach
somewhere.
But
how to choose? What qualities create a beautiful beachfront? Nearly all of the best
beaches of course share soft sands, blue waters and sun-filled skies.
However,
in nearly three decades of travel to beaches across the globe, I’ve found there’s
a degree of nuance attached to the most beautiful beaches. After all, an intimate
and idyllic cove visited by only a handful of visitors creates a different impression
than a mile-long beachfront filled with happy swimmers and lined by acres of tall
coconut palm trees.
Sometimes,
it’s what occurs on the way to the beach that stands out. During a Greek Isles cruise
in the 1990s, I found myself on just such a journey, seated in the back of a
taxi headed to a tiny, blue water cove whose beach lie at the bottom of a steep
road.
Accompanied
by my friend Gary Gerbino, we chatted as the driver, a tall gentleman, blithely
barreled down the rocky road. The experience felt vaguely familiar to us both. “This
is just like a New York taxi!” said Gary.
“One
difference,” said our driver, whom before this juncture hadn’t uttered a word, quickly
announced, “I speak English.”
As
a Caribbean specialist, I’ve had the great pleasure to observe the surprising
diversity of the region’s beachfronts. The soft white sands and rich blue waters
are signature elements of the beaches in Anguilla and the Turks and Caicos,
while the Dominican Republic and U.S. Virgin Islands feature long, panoramic stretches
that extend for miles.
There
are nearly 700 islands in The Bahamas archipelago, and more than twice as many
beaches. Most are small, white-sand outposts surrounded by turquoise waters, offering
the relaxing, “castaway” atmosphere that once defined Caribbean travel.
During
one trip years ago, I looked down on one such beach while attached to a
parasail at least 100 feet above the sands. The landscape’s beauty did not
obscure my regret at having opted for this particular activity.
“This
has to be the dumbest, most dangerous thing I’ve ever done,” I thought to myself
as I gazed at the scene below.
Fortunately,
I was reeled back onto the deck of the excursion boat and safely to the beach. Whereupon
I almost immediately became...ill. More evidence that not every beach experience
is created equally.
At
this point, I’ve visited scores of beaches across the Caribbean and Mexico, with
memorable stops at beachfronts in regions ranging from South Africa to South
America to the South Pacific. These explorations were interrupted only by the
pandemic travel shutdown.
It
was during 2020 that I returned to my favorite beach. Pushed by the pandemic, I
acquired a Sunflow beach chair – a very good chair made expressly for beach
relaxation – and returned to Jacob Riis Park, the Queens, N.Y. beach I frequented
while growing up in Brooklyn.
Part of the National Park
Service, Riis Park opened in 1912 and features an art deco bathhouse
built in 1932. I spent countless summer days at Riis with my parents, brother
and sister while growing up. We even strolled the beach on winter days with our
dog Prince.
Riis is a lovely beach, but
in many ways, it doesn’t measure up in sheer beauty to others I’ve encountered.
That doesn’t matter much as Riis remains my favorite. I haven’t yet found one
that could usurp that status. I suppose it’s a matter of nuance.
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