Several months ago, 60 minutes on CBS had a segment devoted to the deep free-diving being done in the Blue Hole on Long Island in the Bahamas. What really aggravated me (other than they seemed to be promoting the senseless sport of free-diving) about the piece was that they neglected to mention the name of the main (for over 40 years) resort on Long Island, Stella Maris. And I feel they were doing a disservice to Stella Maris.
I first went to Stella Maris in the mid-1980s when I was vacationing on Great Exuma Island and the gentleman I was dating flew me and another couple there in his twin-engine airplane for lunch, which in those days included a leafy green salad (believe me, unusual that far down in the Bahamas at that time). The owners were Germans and insisted on fresh salad greens for their guests so they had them flown in at least twice weekly from Nassau. The entire experience was wonderful.
I have to chuckle to myself at the memory because the next time I was on Long Island, staying at Stella Maris, was about June of 1988. I was working in the Blowing Rock, NC, location for Needle Nicely when I received a phone call on Thursday from my gentleman friend inquiring if I could come to the Long Island Regatta that weekend. (Silly man--he thought I was in Miami or Nassau-- the mountains of North Carolina don't even begin to qualify for a quick airport for travelling to the Bahamas). I dropped everything and drove 2 hours to Charlotte where I took a plane to Ft Lauderdale. The plane I was to take from Ft Lauderdale was cancelled, so the airline taxiied the few of us 1 1/2 hours south to Miami where we took off for Georgetown, Great Exuma. There my gentleman friend met me with his plane and we flew to Long Island where we spent Regatta weekend in a cottage at Stella Maris. The regatta was a truly memorable Out-Island regatta made perhaps more memorable to me because on Friday morning, while walking on the coral rock roads observing the sunrise and being offered a fresh passion flower blossom (so romantic), I looked at the blossom and stubbed my toe. Thus doing a 3-point landing, one of the points being my right collar bone. At that time there were no doctors on Long Island, Bahamas, on a regular basis--and this wasn't their rotation week on the island. I spent the rest of the weekend in immense pain (I really have a high pain threshold), with Scotch as my anesthesia. When I returned to "the States", I checked with my gp and he remarked that collar bone fractures were too mundane to be strapped or xrayed or anything. That's why even today when a front passes through, my right shoulder just ACHES. And at certain times, I can hear a clicking as the bones hit each other. But it also reminds me of a weekend in Paradise!