On my first afternoon at The Potlatch Club, I swam in the ocean until my fingers pruned and my eyes were rimmed red from salt, emerging from the water like a barnacle that had washed ashore. I collapsed onto a sun lounger, reviving myself with sips of homemade iced ginger tea; just as I felt myself dozing off, a pod of dolphins appeared, splashing in the shallow waters not 10 feet away from shore.
“Look!” I cried out to no one, forgetting that I was alone on the hotel’s seven-mile stretch of pink sand beach. I sat up and watched, mesmerized, as dozens of dolphins frolicked around, clicking and trilling as they chased after schools of iridescent fish.
Is it possible to have a slice of paradise all to yourself? At The Potlatch Club, a reborn midcentury retreat on the rugged Bahamian island of Eleuthera, privacy and seclusion are the very essence of the place. Never mind that the 11-key property is already a magnet for celebrities, British aristocrats, and American oil tycoons who arrive on private jets, or that it’s fast becoming the most sought-after spot on the destination wedding circuit. (While I was there, a Texan couple roamed around wearing matching his-and-hers white blazers, tasting menus, and discussing security measures for dignitaries and heads of state.) Being there, it’s impossible not to slip into your own carefree island routine, moving around the 12-acre estate as though you’re the multi-millionaire who owns the place—even if you happened to leave your private jet at home and arrived, crumpled and sweaty like me, via the bumpy half-hour Pineapple Air flight from Nassau.
Photo: Courtesy of The Potlatch Club
