
Big French Cay and Little French Cay are situated off of the town of French Cay, to the east of French Harbour and to the west of Fantasy Island. They were once a favorite place for folks from French Harbour to swim and picnic on the Saturday before Easter Sunday. On those Saturdays entire families would settle in to enjoy the water, sun, and mounds of deviled ham sandwiches and potato salad, all washed down with an ice cold Coca Cola or a Tropical soft drink.
He fell asleep and floated away westward.
I vividly remember “Uncle” Bob McNab and “Uncle” Roy Woods racing their nearly identical motor dories from Ezekiel’s Cay (now Fantasy Island) to the bluff just west of French Cay town. Both dories were painted white, with Uncle Roy’s featuring a dark blue trim and Uncle Bob’s a dark buff trim. Another memory I have is that of ‘Chubby’ floating on a large, inflated rubber tube, so relaxed that he fell asleep and floated away westward without anyone really noticing. Before anyone came to realize it, including Chubby, he’d almost reached the French Cay channel. Uncle Roy sped his motor dory down to pick him up, circling Chubby widely a couple of times before he awoke.
In those days, an elderly couple, the Thompsons, lived on Big French Cay, with their house situated near its western edge. Most of their extended family resided in French Cay town, except for one member who lived in French Harbour. They had two sons who were my classmates and playmates.
Many a weekend the boys would spend with the elder Thompsons on Big French Cay, fishing to their hearts’ content for squabs, yellow tail snappers, and jacks. While I was certainly envious of their fishing stories, I wasn’t totally left out. On some Saturdays, my two older brothers and I would take our family’s speedboat – a green aluminum skiff with a 15 horsepower Johnson outboard engine – and pick up their good friend John Arch from French Cay town.
With hand-held lines, and homemade ‘yellow bait’ lures, we would troll from the French Cay channel to Ezekiel’s Cay, back and forth, for hours on end. After our fill of trolling, we would often beach the speedboat on Big French Cay and fish from the beach under the shade of a large tree, whose branches extended out to the water.
The online article included the method that was used by which to determine the ‘most relaxing beach in the world.’ I honestly found the methodology wanting, and quite random. In any case, I suspect that for many an islander, there is little that could outshine Big French Cay and Little French Cay as they were in the old days.