Salt Cay, the Turks and Caicos Island You’ve Probably Never Heard Of

In a sea of cruise ships and tourists, where tchotchkes flow like wine, lies an outlier. An island of soul, with a past that has shaped modern history, and a culture of fast friends, cold beer, and off-the-grid adventure. Salt Cay, Turks and Caicos, a 2.9-square-mile patch of land about 35 minutes south of Grand Turk by boat, was once a thriving town. Now, the 40 full-time residents are well outnumbered by the wild donkeys that call the island home. From the island’s only bar and restaurant, to the local fishermen, to the world-class diving, Salt Cay offers a unique opportunity to get off the beaten bath and into the sun.

I am tagging along on an archaeological expedition, and with a small airstrip and only one bar and restaurant on the island, we opt to meet in Grand Turk before heading to Salt Cay. Our twin propeller plane operated by InterCaribbean (one of only two airlines that fly in and out of Grand Turk) is cramped, and the vents blow hot air. As the sweat beads on my forehead, I find myself distracted. Not by the turbulence, but the electric glow of the bluest water I have ever seen. The tides ripple over the coral heads below, and the zebra patterns of deep sapphire and turquoise water are interrupted by clouds of orange sea grass caught adrift in the current.

As our plane touches down, we shuffle off in a horde and down a mobile staircase, where we are herded to baggage claim. A single conveyor belt in a single-gate airport begins to roll, and our bags are collected. Introductions are made, and our group moves outside to a pair of golf carts (a preferred method of transportation on both Grand Turk and Salt Cay). Turks and Caicos is a British Overseas Territory, so driving on the left side of the road is an adjustment, but a fun one. We cart past donkeys, tourists, locals, new construction, and houses from colonial rule.

We arrive at the Osprey Beach Hotel and drop off half of our group. I, and a few others, putt down the road to our hotel for the night, the Manta House. While off the well-trodden path, both of these stays are only a short walk from one of the best-kept secrets of the island, Sandbar. The wind blows across the electric teal water as my bare feet meet the wooden floor. Goggles, one of the local dogs that run in packs around Grand Turk, greets us like we’re long-lost friends. We watch the sun set as the last slice of orange dips beyond the horizon. A mythical green flash pops.

The following morning, we go grocery shopping, button up our final plans for the two-week excursion, and meet Richard and Elliot from Salt Cay Divers (the local dive shop) at the boat dock to carry us south, to the land of salt and silence.

The water is calm as we leave the harbor. A cruise ship has just arrived. The 35-minute boat ride is a straight shot, and the tide begins to swell as we leave the safety of the leeward side of Grand Turk. The boat rocks, cutting through the small waves. What was a pinpoint on the horizon grows in size as we approach the Salt Cay harbor. The white sand, the cliff face of the bluff, and the Coral Reef Bar & Grill, are all a welcome sight. As the boat reaches Deane’s Dock (the island’s only harbor), we are greeted by several islanders, including one of Enrique Dickenson. Enrique is wearing black long pants and a long-sleeved T-shirt—his standard attire. He’s the island entrepreneur, and one of his many businesses is golf cart rentals. He brings us carts, greets us like we’re old friends, and we load our gear for transport to our houses.

The majority of the group stays at Harbourside House, and three stay at Marshwiggle. All are accommodations are owned by and available to book through the dive shop. The Harbourside House is a connected duplex with one bedroom on one side and two bedrooms on the other. Full kitchens offer ample storage for groceries and more than enough space to prepare full meals. The front door opens to a rocking chair-lined porch overlooking the crystalline waters to the west. Donkeys and chickens are in abundance, with the occasional cow walking down the dirt road. Three others and I stay at ZaZen, owned by Karen, the dive shop owner.

We are woken up by the crow of a rooster just before the sun breaks the horizon each morning. With no paved roads, we spend our first days trekking and carting the dirt paths that connect the island. History runs deep and is ingrained in every person and place here. Salt Cay’s biggest industry (salt production) began in the late 1600s, when British colonists from Bermuda developed the salinas (salt ponds) and the infrastructure. Slave labor was used to grow the island into a key global player in the industry. The abolition of slavery and the development of salt mines marked the beginning of the end of the salt industry on Salt Cay. Now, we walk past the unkept salinas, ghosts of windmills, and homes that have stood the test of time. The White House, a once-prominent home, now offers a museum-like walkthrough experience for visitors to see a different era. Across the road, the salinas still form salt naturally. The concreted crystals flake off and make for a great souvenir, but Salt Cay Salt Works provides a more refined experience, bath scrubs, flavored salts, and more.

While the land of Salt Cay is riddled with the past, the real treasures of this place lie beneath the waves. Salt Cay Divers operates as a full-service dive shop with gear rentals, guided dives, and boat services. Richard, the shop manager and boat captain, works with our team to outfit everyone with gear and prep the boats for the dives ahead. The small plane from Providenciales to Grand Turk has weight limits, so you will want to leave your weights and tank at home, but the waters of Salt Cay have a variety of sites, including the shelf wall and plenty of shipwreck locations, so you will absolutely want to dive or snorkel while here.

The water on the leeward side of Salt Cay is like glass. The dive shop loads us up on one of the skiffs for near-shore diving, hauling us out to a historical wreck site on their larger double-decker catamaran. If you are diving offshore, like we did, bring motion sickness medication. This is especially true during the early months of the year (high season), when humpback whales are calving off the coast. Salt Cay gives visitors the opportunity to go whale watching and even swim with the whales.

As we deflate our BCDs and sink below the surface, we are transported. The water is a rainbow world. Fish and sharks bob and weave around the 40-foot-tall coral-covered rocks—a hazard for boats and the reason why this area of the Caribbean is referred to as a shipwreck graveyard. Nurse and reef sharks prowl for their next meal, lionfish hide in plain sight, and a cuttlefish scurries by. Its colors change to blend in better with its surroundings. Below us, a 15-foot-long anchor from a 1790 shipwreck accompanies 30 cannons lost to the sea. The visibility seems endless. As we float through the tide, a slight current pushes us adrift. Hiding behind the coral heads, we stop for a break, then swim coral head to coral head to return to our anchor line. At only about 45 feet deep, this dive lasts well over an hour.

We return to Salt Cay exhausted from the day and riding the buzz of the dive. We have a quick shower and a change of clothes before walking across the street to the Coral Reef Bar & Grill. The wood-floored patio bar has seating for about 20. A small ramp takes you inside, where Enrique is managing the bar. Beer, wine, soda, cocktails, and water are available for purchase. Water is not free on Salt Cay. We placed our orders in the morning, and Antonia (originally from the Dominican Republic) has spent the day prepping and cooking. Each day, she offers a small variety of items to choose from. I get the conch most days, and it is accompanied by a large serving of peas and rice and a side salad. Antonia smashes the conch—a very tough meat—into thin slices. Hand battered and fried, we eat it fresh out of the fryer with a beer in hand as the sun goes down. The bar fills with locals and visitors alike for weekly games of dominoes and Saturday night karaoke. A crescendo for the locals who have spent the day fishing, diving, collecting salt, and showing tourists around.

Fifteen days on Salt Cay go by quickly, and by the end, we are all tired, relaxed, and have been made to feel like we are a part of the Salt Cay community. There are not many places in the world where you can safely travel to a remote destination, be greeted by locals who are genuinely excited to see you, pet wild donkeys, dive with sharks, eat seafood caught that day, and truly disconnect. You will be surrounded by history on a true island adventure in Salt Cay.