The path down begins softly — a narrow run of steps winding between palms and sea grapes. The air thickens as you descend, the heat meeting the scent of the ocean in a hush that makes everything else fade. Just before you reach the sand, you catch a flash of turquoise through the foliage, and then the bay appears — a natural cove framed by thick greenery and quiet water lapping against pale sand. It feels unspoiled. Just like the island.
There are no umbrellas, no speakers, no crowds. Just the sound of the tide, a few almond trees overhead and the slow rhythm of Tobago.
This is the Bacol
HALO NEWSLETTER
Keep reading HALO with a Free Subscription
unlock this story instantly and join members and pros reading HALO daily
-It's
Free