This is the nice man who drove us across part of the island from King’s Warf to Horseshoe, who talked to us like we were old family he hadn’t seen in a few years — interested, but not especially intent — who was surprised when we knew things about the place. My in-laws come to Bermuda every few years and have for a long time. They could recall things some of the locals have forgotten.
We let the crowd come and go, arriving later in the afternoon, just as the tourists were leaving and the locals came onto the beach for the evening.
We climbed a few rocks.
And danced our toes in the cold, cold water. If you get in and you’re moving around it’d be fine, my mind says. My ankles disagree.
I like a few rocks on my beach. Something you don’t see on the Gulf Coast, where all of my beach impressions were made, and the beautiful area against which all beaches are measured.
The sand here is not pink. They say it is, but it is not. It is pink-flecked, bits of coral washing in to give the setting a bit of ambiance. They say, too, that the sand never gets hot. It is warm today, and the sun is serious, but the sand feels great.
This is a peaceful beach.
We’ll be back here tomorrow for more sun and snorkeling.
