Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
one of the Bahamas' precious few backpacker-style guesthouses. Four homey rooms and
a communal area cluttered with books and games and old
National Geographic
magazines
give the place a sort of hippie frat-house vibe. Bring your own tent and camp beneath the
lemon trees in the yard, with sloping views over the treetops to the beach. Tom's calculated
the exact time it takes to carry your board from the house to the waves: seven minutes.
You'll want a 4WD to get here, as the road leading to the guesthouse can only be described
as hellish.
Rainbow Inn & Restaurant
ITALIAN, INTERNATIONAL $$
( 242-335-0294;
www.rainbowinn.com
;
Queen's Hwy; mains $18-39; lunch & din-
ner) Wherever you happen to be staying on the island, the Rainbow's impressive steak din-
ners are worth a drive. Meat is flown in fresh from the Chicago stockyards, while organ-
ic veggies for the wood-fired pizzas and salads are grown on-site by the young Canadian
owner. On a hillside overlooking the sea, the restaurant's dining room has a beach bar vibe,
with lots of burnished wood, funky local art and a table made from the prow of an old ship-
wreck. On Saturday night, the Queen's Highway Band gets groovy. The Rainbow also rents
several simple, sunny cottages ($100 to $250).
NATURAL HOT TUBS
North of Gregory Town down a sandy, rutted road, the violent Atlantic surf has
pounded the cliffs into a psychedelic lunar landscape of tidal pools and grottoes.
Locals call these pools the
hot tubs
, as the sun tends to warm the standing wa-
ter to near body temperature in summer. It's a fun place to explore, but don't get
too close to the edge. To get here, head north on the Queen's Hwy 5 miles out of
Gregory Town, then turn right at the faded round National Heritage sign. Leave
your car and hike, lest you get stuck in the sand.
Governor's Harbour
This sleepy and amiable capital, wrapped around a broad, glassy harbor, is a good central
location for exploring the island. People live quietly here, until the Friday and Saturday
Fish Fry kicks off and the
goombay
beats (island music derived from the days of slavery)
drift across the harbor. The smell of frying chicken entices the populace along for a beer
and a bite, and the stars shine overhead in the clear sky.
There are many faded remnants of past glory days here. During the 19th century the
harbor was filled with schooners shipping pineapples and citrus fruits to New York and
New England, or unloading fineries for the wealthy merchants and their wives. The mer-
