Beach Daze - The Coconut Chronicles: Two Guys, One Caribbean Dream House - page 138

Since there wasn't much more we could accomplish at the house until our next visit, we
made an executive decision to spend some time at the beach. The next morning, feeling a bit
guilty for shirking chores that (for the moment, at least) didn't even exist, we set off along
the ridge of hills that lay like a spine along the east/west axis of the island. We drove past
newly-constructed (and in many cases still unfinished) houses sandwiched between dwell-
ings that looked like they'd been there for decades.
The island was definitely in transition mode.
The lane we were traveling along eventually spilled out onto the main road connecting
Isabel and Esperanza. We turned right and headed towards Camp Garcia, the old Navy base
that serves as home to many of the best beaches on the island.
On the left we noticed a huge concrete structure that we'd heard about (and driven past
many times) but had never really focused on—a vast, unfinished shell of a sports complex.
Conceived twenty years earlier as a world-class athletic center for training and sporting
events, it was abandoned halfway through when its funding dried up.
Beyond this melancholy monument, the road meandered south past abandoned cars and
crumbling houses, and a charming-looking nursery, one that we would later visit and learn
to love. Then we reached the sprawling, untidy gates of Camp Garcia, its entrance flanked
by a food truck selling empanadas and, surprisingly, spaghetti.
The broad gravel road leading into the camp was rutted and bumpy, giving our already-
clanky Vitara a brisk workout. I noticed with amusement that I could glimpse the road
through a good-sized hole in the floor.
Exactly what was the daily rate for this jalopy anyway?
But I didn't really care. The sun was shining, a light, fragrant breeze tickled the trees,
and we were about to explore some of the most unspoiled beaches in the Caribbean.
Today's destination was Secret Beach, also known locally as Pata Prieta.
Yes, we'd been there many times before, but it was so beautiful we couldn't resist visit-
ing again.
It needs to be seen to be appreciated.
Reached along a twisting lane punctuated by seemingly-bottomless potholes and a hair-
raising final descent along a narrow swathe of sharply contoured rocks, the beach is as ro-
mantic as it is secluded—a lazy half-circle of white sand embracing a shallow cove of aqua-
marine sea.
The water is warm and serene and utterly transparent.