I thought I knew what the Bahamas would be like—white sands, turquoise waters, and tropical drinks. Beyond the cruise ship docks and crowded beaches, I found a version of the Exumas most people never see…one full of adventure, respect, and harmony.
I arrived in the Bahamas a few days before the rest of my classmates, eager to adjust to the rhythm of island life and explore Nassau before embarking the boat for a week. It was a place filled with the sights and sounds of tourists. Filled with souvenir shops, and a busy docks where massive ships came and went.
By wandering off the beaten track, I connected with a hotel manager and locals who quickly became my unofficial guide to Nassau’s hidden side. They proudly showed me their favourite food stands and told me all their juicy gossip. Seeing this perspective felt special, almost like being let in on a secret. Little did I know, the Bahamas we were about to experience as part of the expedition was a completely different world, one that wasn’t accessible to just anyone.
Spending time with the crew before all my classmates arrived was like looking into a mirror. Seeing their unconventional lives and how they were untethered to societal norms, reminded me that the path less traveled is often the most fulfilling. I love meeting other people that are living against America’s norms. Living for odd jobs, out of backpacks and going with the flow. It makes me feel less alone, more understood and excited for life and my future.
As a young 21-year-old white American female traveling alone, I’ve learned the opportunity is a paradox. It’s exciting and scary, fulfilling and lonely. It’s full of community and yet full of solitude. It’s spontaneous and adventurous, but it also comes with a strange kind of guilt. There is an awareness of the privilege that allows me to move freely through the world. There is an excitement to feel independent. I can feel more fulfilled with less. Knowing I don’t need material possessions to feel joy. I have all I need– two eyes to experience the beauty of this world, two ears to absorb all the stories I’ve been told, one voice to share my experiences and a camera to capture the memories.
I’ve enjoyed being a fly on the wall during the trip. I love to capture people’s memories. Especially when they aren’t watching… it makes the moment more real. You never know how important the moment was for someone. The moment they fell in love. The moment they overcome fears. Watching them form friendships. Watching them grow. The moment they scramble out of the water after peeing… desperately trying to avoid the shark that was suddenly swimming their way.
Noticing how when you first watch them through the lens you see their insecurities. You see them suck in their stomachs or change their smile once they notice you have the camera. Watching people change themselves and the moment to show themselves in a way they think they should be portrayed. Then you slowly watch them get more comfortable. Comfortable looking silly. Comfortable laughing at themselves. You notice a lot when you live life through a lens.
Once we embarked on the expedition we made a first stop at the iguana beach, lucky enough to experience their home, a deserted beach that was usually swarmed by hundreds of tourists. We skipped out on the infamous Pig Island, later learning that there is actually quite a dark and sad story behind this tourist trap.
The pigs weren’t wild as advertised; they were farm pigs introduced to the island. Over time, things spiraled out of control. A few years ago, a third of the pigs died or fell sick after ingesting sand and consuming plastic left behind by careless visitors. Some tourists even fed them beer, which can poison them, and injuries to both pigs and people weren’t uncommon.
Hearing these stories made me reflect on how easily social media can distort reality. As a photographer, I know how easy it is to curate an image to fit a specific narrative.
I left feeling thankful that we’d skipped that stop. It was a reminder of the power we have as travelers to make ethical choices and the responsibility to see beyond the narrative of a photograph.
Living on a boat for the week was an adventure in itself. Every day, we woke up to the gentle rocking of the ocean and a new destination on the horizon. We stopped at secluded coves and beaches, each more stunning and untouched than the last. The boat became our floating home.
By day four, we arrived at a place called Rachel’s Bubble Bath, a hidden gem tucked away in the Exumas. The energy there was peaceful, warm, and welcoming. The walk to the cove was scattered with billions of baby shells.
Bruce, our captain, shared the story of the stacked stones that lined the ridge above the cove. He explained how he utilizes this place to help men and boys heal from their trauma. Each stone represents a burden: PTSD, anger, pain, or loss. The act of smashing the stones was a symbolic release and a way to forgive, forget, and commit to moving forward. Once they completed this process, they were baptized in the water. A place where transformation takes place… where people and perhaps even nature, found ways to heal and begin anew.
As our captain expertly deep fried our Thanksgiving turkey aboard our boat, the aroma filled the air, enticing not only our hungry stomachs but also the curious sharks swirling around us. It was almost as if they’d caught a whiff of the captain’s holiday feast…or maybe it was Zac Brown’s Chicken Fried song playing on repeat that lured them in??? “Cold beer on a Friday night…” blared from the speakers, but in this case, it was more like “fried turkey on a Thursday night” that had everyone drawn to the party. The sharks, unfazed by the commotion above, seemed to sway along with the music as if it wasn’t their first time joining the feast.
Our captain, however, wasn’t the least bit bothered by their presence. He watched them with a calm familiarity, as if they were old friends…or perhaps wild pets that he secretly enjoyed having around. His faint scars on his hands hinted at a history with these creatures, one forged through mutual respect. Though he was aware of their raw power, the sharks seemed to return the favour of respect.
Earlier that day, we learned just how deep that respect ran. The captain trusted us enough to drop us into the open ocean to swim with these apex predators… but not without first making sure we understood what we were stepping…or rather, diving into. When he leapt effortlessly into the water alongside us, his presence felt more like a quiet reassurance. It wasn’t until afterward we realised he was monitoring the sharks in case we needed protection.
It was a humbling experience, to say the least. Swimming among creatures as majestic as they are dangerous, taught us an unspoken lesson: respect must always accompany awe. The captain’s calmness wasn’t ignorance of their intensity but reverence for it.
That reverence extended beyond the ocean and into the land we were exploring. Whether it was the sharks circling below or the delicate ecosystems on shore, the captain made it clear that our journey wasn’t just about adventure but about learning to respect the spaces we occupy. The world isn’t ours to conquer but a home we share with countless other beings.
So as we sat down to our Thanksgiving feast under a sky painted with stars, we weren’t just grateful for the food on our plates or the adventure we were embarking on—we were grateful for the chance to better understand our place in this world.
