The thing about the Bahamas is that it’s a short, extremely affordable jaunt from the mainland US—a mere hour if you’re in Atlanta, a couple if you’re up in New England. So how people can go back to the beaches of say, Florida, after experiencing this sort of paradise is beyond me when it’s essentially the same distance and expense (if not cheaper).

You don’t find pristine snow-white sands, a mix of translucent blue and emerald green water warm enough to bathe in, coral beds teeming with such diverse life around every corner anywhere on the Eastern Seaboard.

I went out on a boat tour with Captain Steve, friend to the A-list, on my final day in the Exumas.

Besides being about the nicest boat guy known to man, the Cap’n also had the taxing chore of ferrying the Pirates of the Caribbean crew to and from the set while they were in the area filming. So if the fact that he resides in such a heavenly place doesn’t make you jealous enough, seeing him in a photo with Jack Sparrow’s arm slung over his shoulder surely will.

The Cap’n deposited us directly in the middle of the ocean in Elizabeth Harbour. It was low tide, so there were sandbars galore upon which to frolic.

I don’t know about you, but I find sandbars mesmerizing. Maybe it’s because you know that no one else will ever be on this exact formation where you currently stand, as the moment the tide comes in, the sand will shift and be buried beneath the ocean once more.

Patches of the bay were ripe with starfish just like elsewhere in the Exumas, but this time I stuck to playing with the sand dollars. Enough things had already gone on early in the trip, and I didn’t want to end my time in the Bahamas with a trip to the hospital to cap it all off.

Angie, being both a friend and blog reader, knew what such an isolated stretch of sand meant without me even having to ask her…

HANG TIME!

It was probably my most challenging jumping shoot to date, given the soggy nature of the sandBAR—meaning it was under water just moments before we arrived and we sank quicker than we could give Michael Jordan a run for his money—but I think we got some real gems. Outtakes, too.

After we were sufficiently tired from trekking through the water-logged sand, we went for a snorkel before continuing across the bay to Chat ‘n Chill on Stocking Island for some mid-afternoon grub and libations.

For everyone else, this meant one last chance at lobster and conch. I, on the other hand, was seafooded out and tried to order the hot dog. (Hey, I’m only human. For a non-shellfish eater, I had enough crab, lobster, mussels, scallops and conch in that one week alone to last me a lifetime!)

But the owner, KB would have none of it! It was the chicken or nothing, he said. So I had the chicken. (The man is a force to be reckoned with; I wasn’t about to cross him.)

And some sort of electric blue Bahamian concoction, heavy on the rum, light on the mixture.

A bit more light-headed than when we arrived, we sped back to George Town in time to hop up the road to Sandals Emerald Bay for a nice, relaxing sports massage as the winds picked up, the thick, gray clouds rolled in and the sky began to rumble.