Recently went to Nassau with Margaret for a few days.
Had a lovely relaxing time and got to soak in some much-needed sunshine and warmth after a long, cold NYC winter.
Rented a cottage in a relatively quiet area of the north shore. The beach was mostly just us and another couple staying on the property.
On my first walk on the sand upon arriving, I noticed a run-down beachfront a few properties over, so naturally, I got nosy and itchy for some exploration.
Turns out, it was an abandoned resort.
Coming in through the beach, the first area I encountered was the pool and a cabana bar. To my surprise, there was still some reminders of this place’s previous life—as well as no security or barriers on the premises, giving me free rein.
Tubs of Crisco still sat on the stove in the kitchen behind the bar, and paper pads scribbled with lunch orders laid in open drawers. Handwritten thank-you notes from happy guests hung on the wall, as well as string lights with colorful bulbs, now foggy from the elements.
Outside the shack, a few empty bottles sat on the bar, including one brandishing Elvis Presley in the King’s tropical period, appropriately.
As I moved across the lounge area towards the guest rooms, I found that most of the paths were blocked off by overgrown vegetation, so had to navigate a rough route to go further. Not an ideal task to do in sandals and a swimsuit, but I persevered.
Having been bonked in the head by a falling coconut in Mexico once, I also took notice of all the husks littering the ground. I now always warily turn my gaze upwards when I’m walking under palm trees—never again.
My caution meant that I managed not to catch any stray coconuts to the dome this time, but I did come upon a stray cat moving through the ruins, to both our surprise. After the very cliche jump scare, it quickly scudded.
Most of the rooms were gutted, including bathrooms and kitchenettes. Although I did find a lone toilet still standing in a public restroom. Seat was already up.
While most of the rooms were open to the elements, some had sets of new windows sitting inside—mostly uninstalled, stacked, and still in their packaging. Perhaps there was a plan to revive the place that was later abandoned.
Most of the original lamps were broken and rusted, gathered on the floor in their rooms.
The grounds included some maintenance rooms, a gutted kitchen, and a tennis court, all now in a state of ill repair.
The creeping parched limbs strewn across the tennis court were especially striking.
The unfettered landscaping made it seem like the plants were strategically surrounding all buildings and common areas and slowly closing in, engulfing anything in their path.
The resort must’ve had its heyday in the eighties and nineties, by the look of things.
When I got back to my place, I looked it up and found a Facebook page for Blue Water Resort, whose third-to-last post on October 4, 2016 (my b-day, coincidentally) stated, “Due to Hurricane Matthew our resort is CLOSED so our employees can be safe with their families.”
That was followed by another post stating that everyone was safe, and a final one noting that due to damages, the resort would be closed until January 2017.
It’s clear that it never reopened and it’s been sitting abandoned for almost a decade.
Hurricane Matthew was rough on Nassau—a Category 4 storm that left at least 2 feet of flood waters in its wake, seriously crippling the infrastructure and racking up damage throughout.
I’m sorry about the circumstances that brought this place to ruins, but I’m glad I got to experience it in this form—retired, peaceful, and in the process of being reclaimed by the elements that made it a draw to begin with.
I should be so lucky.
Reposingly yours,
Luca Eandi
Chief Relic Officer
