One of my goals during my trip to the Bahamas in April (2021) was to visit the cave that is on the cover of UNCHARTED. 

That photo used on the cover was submitted by another sailor but I wanted to stand in this place for myself. Many of you may know that a cave—not actually the one on the cover of the book—is a critical element in the climax in the novel. 

After checking in at West End on Grand Bahama Island, we crossed to the north end of the Berry Islands and through the cut to Great Harbor Cay (first called Manalapan Island). Now, if you haven’t been there, getting to the marina is in itself is a boating adventure. No matter how good your GPS is, the cut is nearly invisible until you make the final turn outside.

The water is shallow and takes a leap of faith to stay on course. There are markers, sort of. However, hang on, it’s worth it and one of the best hurricane holes in the Bahamas – should you need one. 

The marina is all Bahamian. That means a bit rustic, lots of local color, all the cruisers necessities, and an abundance of friendly dock and office staff. From Steve Johnson, general manager, to dock staff including Miko, Quincy, and Kinsley and of course, China, in the office who will take your credit card and answer any and all questions about this remote location including gossip about former celebrities who have hung out here over the years. (There is a Bardot beach, named for…?)

So, my go-to was China. I showed her the book and told her I wanted to visit the cave. 

“Dat be Sugar Cave on the east side.” She handed me a map and said, “No problem. Just go to the road, take a left. Don’t take da next left. Dat take you to da town of Bullock’s Harbor. You stay on the road until you find the turn-off to the right, which has a sign Cave, or maybe there not be a sign. You can’t get lost, just one road run da whole length of da island.”

Next question. “Can I walk there?” 

Answer. “Da island a bit over 7 miles, probably 6 to da cave.” (At this point she looked me over) “I suggest you rent, yourself a car from Mr. Ramsey. I’ll call him.” 

So, a car it was. It wasn’t hard to follow the road, as China said, there is only one. However, it turned out the road to the cave was indeed not marked. The road ended in a cul du sac at the end of the island and if we got that far without spotting it, we’d turn around and search again on the way back. But before we reached the end, we came upon a vehicle stopped in the middle with two locals chatting with construction guys. We decided to ask if they knew the road to Sugar Beach cave.  

Answer: “You passed it. There is a road with a sign, marked Cave, or maybe there isn’t a sign.” Had we heard this before? “Well, never mind. Turn your car around and we’ll take you there.” 

Sweet. They did lead us to a road—more like a footpath overgrown with weeds—there was no sign, but one of the woman assured us this was the place. She pulled off the road, got out of her car and kindly asked us, “You got shoes? You need to watch the rocks they’re jagged limestone and slippery. (Did everyone think I was old and feeble?) When you come to the beach, go to the left and you see a sort of cliff. Dat be da cave. It be low tide, so you probably can go right in it. Now be careful.”

I digress. I couldn’t figure out how to lock the car but decided it wasn’t in any danger. Who could hide a stolen car on an island 7 miles long and at the widest point, 2.5 miles wide? 

Believe me, it was well worth the effort. The beach is beautiful and secluded with water that goes from light turquoise to dark sapphire. A swim would follow, but I was eager to get to the cave which was just a very short walk to the left as promised. 

We were the only ones there and I was able to stand in the cave and look out at the scene from the cover of UNCHARTED (minus the sailboat). Then a photo opportunity with me holding the book in my hand. I lingered and took more photos than I will ever need. And while this cave looks out on a tranquil ocean, I could imagine what Kat and Carter felt when they entered the cave on South Andros, not knowing where it would lead.