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Wild Blue Yonder

The only way this trip could be more convenient is if the plane were landing in my front yard. If they felt they could clear the oak trees, I’m sure the Sky Limo pilots would probably try. Instead, they touch down at a small executive airport not 10 minutes’ drive from my house. I haven’t had to wait in a long, slow line to speak to surly, overworked airline agents about how late the flight is. I haven’t humped luggage through miles of concourse laid out by some architect who couldn’t get work on an ant farm. And I know I’m not going to have to sit next to a crying baby or a hygienically challenged armrest wrestler. Instead, I arrive 10 minutes before the flight time I requested and wait in a lounge until the pilots come to carry the bags directly out to the plane. On board I sit in the airborne equivalent of a leather La-Z-Boy opposite the only other passenger on the twin-engine Merlin: my dad, who has insisted on helping me test out the newest way to see the Bahamas’ Out Islands – by charter plane.

While it seems the epitome of luxury – and it is – a charter flight can be affordable if you travel with family, friends, fishing buddies or business associates. (My dad claims to fit all these categories, arguing that he invested so much to feed and clothe me that he should be considered a business partner.) And, along with a few small airlines, charters can be the only way to get to many Out Islands without losing precious vacation time on layovers. The Bahamas Out Islands are like Smalltown, USA: the scenic heartland where the pace is slower, the people friendlier and the focus is on the natural beauty. Out Islands don’t attract people looking for casinos and nightclubs, but rather those who want to gamble on whether that fat, possibly record-breaking bonefish will go after a Crazy Charlie or a Deceiver; people for whom nightlife means an after-dark dive on a coral reef or sitting around a small bar fully stocked with sailors, fishermen and other tropical escapees, sharing stories and laughs. The Out Islands are just our speed. So off we go.

The Other Long Island

The flight is flawless and indulgently comfortable. Upon landing at Long Island’s Stella Maris airport, the pilots walk us through Customs and Immigration -- quick and easy since we’re the only arrivals. If we’d gone commercial and checked in the recommended two hours beforehand, we’d just now be boarding and would still have to stop in Nassau, clear C&I and wait for a connection. Instead, we’re stepping aboard a boat for a nature tour, already immersed in the beautiful waterworld of the Bahamas’ outback.

I haven’t seen anything like it this side of Dover: a brilliant, sheer-white cliff thrusting out of the clear blue water like an iceberg. ''We come out and paint it once a week,'' jokes Delbert Smith, as he noses the pontoon boat to the base of the cliff. Smith is operations manager as well as fishing and nature guide for Cape Santa Maria Resort. The startling limestone wall does look like it has a fresh coat of Sherwin Williams’ Pure White. The whitewashed Columbus Landing Monument on top of the cliff (Long Island, like every other piece of dry land in the southern Bahamas, claims to be the first place Queen Isabel’s favorite sailor got New World sand in his shoes) looks dingy by comparison.

Delbert shows off his driving skills by squeezing the boat into a sea cave. Inside, the sun beams through a natural skylight, illuminating a tiny, hidden beach, a popular place for snuggling snorkelers, says Delbert.

Cape Santa Maria has a 3-mile stretch of gorgeous leeward beach, and the resort and its bungalows -- each with a big oceanfront screened porch – sits right behind the powdery sand and calm water. The multilevel Beach House is the Cape’s social center. Behind the floor-to-ceiling windows is the ocean- and sunset-view bar and restaurant where we mingle with guests who have spent their day kayaking and lazing on the beach. Downstairs is reception, a gift shop, laundry, library and gym. The excellent restaurant, amenities, private airstrip and comfortable rooms are a wonderful surprise. I expected more Spartan conditions because beneath its luxurious ''beach resort'' skin, Cape Santa Maria is a serious fishing lodge. The property is owned by Oak Bay Marine Group, which operates fishing camps throughout the wilds of Canada. Instead of trout, salmon and halibut of the cold-water camps, the cape boasts a Bahamian trifecta of marlin, tuna and wahoo, along with excellent bonefish flats within walking distance.

Even though it’s late in the season for tuna and billfish, we decide to try for the big boys of the blue and join Captain Burt and mate Cedric aboard the 35-foot Tender Mercy. Cedric plays out a spread of technicolor lures as soon as we hit promising water just a few minutes offshore. From the flying bridge, Burt displays the indispensable skills of an Out Island fishing captain by spotting birds – small, dark gulls hovering low, just off the surface of the indigo water – from over a mile away. It’s akin to being able to see pepper grains against a piece of charcoal – at night. And it means we’ve found fish.

Cedric double-checks the lines, and Dad climbs into the fighting chair. From my perch next to Burt, I see what has the birds’ attention: A school of yellowfin tuna are tearing up the water. The hair on the back of my neck rises. This is a sight all blue-water fishermen daydream about. Then the hair almost jumps off my neck. Just below the shimmering surface, in the very center of the feeding frenzy, is a huge dark shape. It’s a whale shark, the biggest fish in the sea, in all its speckled, 25-foot-long glory. The shark doesn’t seem to mind the boat as we make several slow passes. The yellowfin are more interested in playing ring-around-the-whale-shark than biting our baits, but the rare sighting of the gentle plankton eater --serene and enormous amid the turmoil of tuna -- has us jonesing to jump in for the other top Out Islands’ water sport: diving.