This isn’t your typical love story – human meets human, they fall in love, create memories, experience challenges and hardship, move through growing pains and either continue together or apart. But there are similarities.

This is a story about how a place and my time spent there has woven itself so deeply into the fibers of my being, that the sight, smell and touch of this island still gives me goosebumps, nourishes my soul and fills my heart. Ambergris Cay, I love you.

The Cay, as my family and those who work there adoringly call it, is a small private island in the Turks and Caicos, hugged by the caicos banks on its West border and dropping into the depths of the Atlantic ocean to the East. The island, ironically in the shape of a shark, runs from tail to nose, North to South. Approximately 3.3 miles long by 1.5 miles wide, and nearly 1200 acres in size. Built upon coral stone and sand, this island is truly a creation of the underworld that has decided to come up for air. Lucky us.

The ocean spray and iron shoreline of Ambergris Cay

The island in its natural state is raw, rugged, and wild, inspiring an energy that is unique to the Cay. Though there are soft edges with brilliant white sand, shallow turquoise flats that stretch for miles, and lush and diverse interiors, the island's strongest character - in my opinion - is its almost maleficent iron shore. Six foot wisps of ocean spray exhale from the rolling waves that crash against and underneath the island's jagged rocky edges. Cooling trade winds carry sea spray through your hair. Wherever you are on the island, the ocean is not far away.

Prehistoric looking dwarfed dinosaurs - the native rock iguana - roam the land with pride. The rock iguana, a now endangered species, is endemic to the Turks and Caicos islands and plentiful on the Cay. The shimmering Rainbow Boa and its tiny cousin the Pygmy Boa (non threatening snakes) find cool protection during the daytime under limestone rocks. Lizards, skinks and geckos are seen scurrying along the island's surface. A variety of residential and migratory bird species nest and feed on the abundance of life on land and in the sea.

The botany on this island boasts a variety of endemic plant species to the Turks and Caicos Islands. There is a particular species of Gumbo Limbo tree that is endemic to central and southern Bahamas and possibly Cuba, that so far, is only found on Big Ambergris Cay in the Turks and Caicos Islands. The leaves, when broken, smell like eucalyptus and are used in bush teas. The small branches can be broken and placed under your hat to keep you cool on a hot day.

Old Man Cactus, Dildo Cactus (Cephalocereus millspaughii; C. bahamensis)

The wise ancestors guarding The Cay are the Old Man Cactus, easily recognized by their smooth green skin, long upward stretching branches that look like columns or arms reaching toward the sky. The plant is covered in tiny spines and as it matures, the tops of each branch become covered in hairlike spines that resemble a silver head of hair! These spines have adapted in this way to protect the cactus flowers from the intense sunlight.

The most abundant cacti of the island is the Turks Head Cactus. A stout, more domed or barrel shaped plant with a bright reddish cap. The cap resembles the Turkish Fez, hence its name ‘Turks Head’. The sizes and shapes are so diverse, it is quite a site to look over a field of these ‘creatures’. They look as if they are dancing together, or chatting in a surreal still life.

Field of Turks Head Cacti (Melocactus intortous)

The smell of the bright green ground cover, Bay Tansy, combined with salt in the air is a signature scent of this island and one that will always land me back on that rock.

Ambergris Cay is steeped in history and the remnants of the past still exist there today. You can find stone ruins on the hills and valleys of the island from the Loyalists dating back to the 1800’s. Old homestead structures, fresh water catchments and wells, some chips of old pottery dishware and cow bones. Pottery relics of the Taino people who once lived peacefully on our islands, can also be found on Ambergris. The Taino or Lucayan were the original settlers discovered here in the 1500’s. These peoples were said to have lived peacefully here until the arrival of Christopher Columbus.

Today you can still find mounds of sunburnt conch shells, like mass graves piled to the sky, where once upon a time the Turks and Caicos Fishermen made their living, drying conch for export.

From the original land keepers - the critters of the Cay - to the Lucayans, to the Loyalists, to the Turks Islanders, to the Foreigners, this island has had many different love stories, some potentially more bleak than others.

I first stepped foot on the sandy beach (first named Sunrise Beach, and later changed to Columbus Beach - I prefer the first) of Ambergris Cay in 1995, a year after my Dad, a Canadian entrepreneur, purchased the island from Doc Astwood of South Caicos. At that time, there was nothing on the Cay but the life that was always there. We arrived by motor boat - a 3 hour slog across the ocean from Provo. When we hit the beach Dad, wearing his signature leopard thong ‘banana hammock’ (that little piece of cloth was a ‘courtesy’ for us - otherwise, the man would have been happiest naked), picked up a walking stick and trekked up and over the hill, disappearing for the next several hours. This is my first memory of the cay, a wild and relatively frightful one, while Dad set out to commandeer his island.

He left us on the beach under a very dark sky with thick towering clouds. The weather moved in on us along with buckets of rain, lightning, and thunder. Myself and my siblings, left in the care of his girlfriend at the time, had to seek shelter tucked in under one of the bluffs. I remember looking up and seeing all of these fossil-like shells suctioned to the rock (Chitons), I remember feeling cold and wet. I don’t remember the after, or being dry and safe alas, but obviously that happened since I'm here today telling this story. My first Cay encounter had already settled deep into my bones at 10 years old.

From ages 10 - 18, I would visit Ambergris Cay on and off whenever coming to Turks to stay with Dad. The workforce for the original infrastructure of the Cay started with Dad, my aunt Melinda, my oldest brother Mike, some Islanders from South Caicos and a few Haitian men, some of whom still live and work on the Cay today. My aunt Melinda helped Dad with the day-to-day admin but not only that, she also built the initial dirt runway on the Cay, and being a pilot, she landed the first plane on the smooth quarry surface she’d rolled and compacted herself. My sister Lindsay, friends and family all came and went to help for a time, to bushwhack, pick rocks, push roads, and build. The early days on the Cay will be better told by any of these people than by me, but I can summarize what I know to be true.

They built a bright blue plywood shack close to an area where boats and a barge could come in with supplies. This shack was a whopping two story villa, painted blue - The Blue Shack. Dad, Mike, Aunt Melinda, Dor, Claude, Peele and Fancy and a little later, Lindsay all stayed and shared meals in this home together. Fresh caught fish and conch were eaten along with canned spam, boxed milk and cereal - gourmet!! The family grew slowly and it was in these early days, without many roads, without buggies, without any power or water, that these people were truly initiated by Ambergris Cay. The stories held by my family on this island are that of struggle, blood, sweat, tears, near death experiences, strength, endurance, willpower, perseverance, accomplishment, exploration, discovery, joy, laughter, friendship, and love, all in the name of The Cay.

When I first moved to the island, I was right out of high school, 17 years old. It was my first time living away from my Mom and the first time living with my Dad since I was 7. When I arrived, Dads house was being built and my cabana, separate from the house, sitting just back from the iron coastline, was up and ready for me to move into. Week one of living in my little hut, I underwent Hurricane Jean. It was pretty scary, I’m not gonna lie - Wind howling– rattling the cedar, louvered windows, driving rain spitting its way into the cabana through any crack or crevice that it could, soaking me in my bed and lightening giving me a glimpse, every so often of the raging sea, just 20 meters out in front of my little home. The first break I could get, I ran through the storm up to the main house for a little more comfort.

The Cay was wild and my cabana was home to whatever bugs or lizards or crabs or birds had found it suitable for their needs. Once, I was nearly carried away by an army of carpenter ants. If you are squirmish, I suggest you skip this part. A few days prior to the infestation that was my bed and body, I noticed a crunch under foot as I walked from my sliding door to my bed. A little flashlight would show me that the crunch was a large looking reddish brown ant. I swept it away, along with others and didn't think too much of it. Afterall, I was sort of in this indoor/outdoor living situation. In the middle of the night some days later, I was awoken by a tickle over my face which is not so uncommon. I brushed it away, but shortly after I felt it again but more tickles and in different places. I then noticed this sensation on my arms. I froze in my bed, picked up my hand and placed it flat down beside me on the fitted sheet and I must have had my hand covering 25 large ants. That was enough to tell me, I myself was also completely covered. My body elevated from the bed in a way only an army of ants can possess a person to move and I screamed and freaked out. I shook and my voice rattled in a terrifying way to no one but the cedar louvered windows and bamboo furniture in my cabana. This was the second time that I fled my cabana for the main house, still wiping away the bugs as I ran. We all have our different initiations on the Cay. These were mine.

I stayed the better part of a year on the island before returning to Canada to do more study. In my time there, I worked for Dad, building his home with him, making us fried onions and eggs with toast over a small ikea kitchenette with a little gas burner element to cook on. The mornings were precious. We would eat our breakfast and sip our coffee, often sitting on the deck staring at the sparkling sunrise over the ocean or watching for whale plumes to help us spot the massive creatures, just there, 20 yards from the shore. And then the work day would begin. Most who have worked for my Dad know that you work like a dog under his figurative, relentless whip – you work until the job is done. If the job is not done, the floodlights and extension cords come out to extend the day's light until all is complete. I worked hard, harder than I ever have, but I’m pretty sure I had it easy compared to my siblings and others in the earlier, more primitive days and I definitely had more civilized comforts. For example, I did not have to fetch my shower water from a cave well on the other end of the island, as my sister did. No, I had a lovely cedar, outdoor shower that mostly worked. Cold water only, of course.

Dad with me, making a smooth concrete floor…his favorite thing.

The motley crew at Dad’s house - Dor and Claude are STILL there today!

Dad was on and off the Cay often while I was living there for work matters, and myself and the crew at the house were a real mixed bag, but we became a little family and got er’ done. I used to call us the United Nations. We had myself and two other Canadians, one or two Americans, Turks Islanders, Haitians, Mexicans, and a French man. I worked with the Mexicans a fair bit and had to use a little translating book to get through the day with them. I painted the exterior and interior of Dad’s home - this took months. Two or three coats of mango yellow on the exterior, pale greens and yellows on the interior and I even did a venetian plaster in Dads theater room - a DVD came with the plaster to teach me how to trowel the thick, clay like paint on and make a sort of pattern of the wall, much like stucco work. I varnished all the teak interior doors, surely high on the solvents in that heat all day long. I spent a lot of time on ladders, way, way up and sometimes on the top of the sky track if I needed to go higher than a ladder could take me. I installed foam, crown molding around the house, dug many holes and planted many plants, including transplanting about 50 Turks Head Cactus. I drove the backhoe to collect dirt as needed and to push little driveways in so as to mark them as lots to sell one day. I placed a conch shell with the lot number on each. If Dad was on the Cay, he was as hands on, in the dirt, grinding it out with the rest of us, while he was also shouldering the stress of what it means to own, run, and create a Private Island Development. Fortunately, he loved his meals, and his yoga time and as his daughter, I had the privilege of spending this time with him, even if within working hours.

I grew to love my sweat soaked scent, as strange as that sounds. It was a reminder throughout the day and at the end of the day that I was working hard, that I could work hard. I also played hard. Real hard. Though I may have been “stuck” on the Cay for 1, 2 or 3 months at a time without leaving, the short weekend breaks to Provo became an absolute RELEASE. I had money to spend and booze to drink and that I did. I had many of my own growing pains and young heartache during this time, all documented in a journal that I just recently fed to a giant bonfire. I no longer need the words to remember this time. I’m here and those experiences have a part in shaping the person I am today.

I left and returned to the Cay four years later. A little older, a little wiser and with some schooling under me. At this stage, in 2008, Dad had sold the island right before the financial crash. This was an incredibly hard and stressful time for Dad, but he quickly moved on as he settled new roots in the Dominican Republic, where he lives today. With Dad away, I took over the master bedroom, as you do as the princess of the family. I worked with my sister who had been living there with her husband at the time for 2 years. We offered Wellness Retreats, Yoga, and I started the first Spa on Ambergris Cay, called Oceanrise Spa. I created a treatment room in dad’s house and guests visiting the island or owners coming to stay in their homes would either come to me for facials, manicure, pedicure, or my signature treatment, Body Bliss (90 minutes of back massage, facial, aromatherapy scalp treatment, hand and foot massage…I KNOW.) Otherwise, I humped my massage table around by golf cart to all the different villas, sometimes firing off 9 massages a day. I made great income in one day and could spend the rest of my days of the week lounging poolside - a far cry from my first year on the Cay and a wildly different time from the early days.

Days off, I would be here by the pool or on the beach. The good life!

So you see, the Cay can chew you up and spit you out, as it has done to many, or it can chew you up and invite you in closer until you become a part of it. Until you become its community. You begin to understand each other, to respect each other and care for one another. My fondest memories of my relationship with Ambergris Cay fill my heart. When I close my eyes and think of the island and my time there, I see myself lying under a starlit sky with zero light pollution, memorizing the constellations that I could find night after night. I feel the ocean breeze blowing across my bed, billowing through my sheets and leaving them slightly damp from the moisture in the air. I smell the bay tanzy, I taste the turks head berries. I remember the exhilarating island runs up and down the hills with 360 degree ocean views. Playing baseball on the beach with washed up bamboo as our bat and buoys or coconuts as our ball. I see flashes of myself skipping across the rocks in moonlight with other escape artists of the Cay, sea drenched and salty, buzzed, shiny and happy. I stretch out on a sand spit that reaches out into the ocean making you feel like you are in the middle of nowhere, yet grounded. Campout missions on Little Ambergris Cay (an hour's kayak away). I slice aloe for my burns and make tea from the gumbo limbo. I sing songs with others in a circle in the caves and explore the ruins, appreciating the hardships and natural beauty experienced by all those who came before.

I’ve recently visited Ambergris Cay, not as my Dads daughter or a worker, not as a wellness facilitator or a yogi, but as a real estate professional with a particular eye and interest for the land I may be listing. Although such a different scenario, something about being there and looking at the island with a different lens still felt incredibly nostalgic and familiar. I understand the rocks, minding your step for the spikes that fall from the cactus, the secret beach spots, the plant life and flamingo landing holes. I can envision how the sun will rise and set against a home and which window to look out for the whales passing through in season. Somehow and in a way I never really knew would happen, I have found myself back on the Cay where everything has changed and nothing has changed. Striking the cords of my heart once again, the Cay has found its way in and I have found my way back, even if in a small way.

May the love story continue with many more chapters to come.

The Cay, A Love Story

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