Bluefields Bay might just be the best kept secret in all of Jamaica. For more than forty years, those in-the-know have snuck off to a series of hidden villas overlooking mesmerizing emerald waters where an old-world form of hospitality still exists. The experience is so utterly enchanting that most guests leave feeling sworn to secrecy, fearing that once word gets out, this rare paradise will be lost forever. This fear is not exactly unfounded. Back in 1997, a short piece in the Washington Post cut readers in on the Bluefields secret — shooting up like a flare in the night — and the villas were booked solid for two straight years thereafter.
While throngs of tourists at Montego Bay Airport board heavily branded buses bound for the nearest cookie-cutter all-inclusive resort, a gleaming white passenger van driven by a man named Percy pulls up. A tall, distinguished Jamaican, Percy has been with Bluefields from the very beginning, going back to the early 1980s. As he navigates the van due south off the beaten path, he regales passengers with the history of the villas, how an eccentric accountant from D.C. named Braxton Moncure and his architect wife Deborah literally carved this luxurious retreat out of the rocky coast back when there were no phone lines and all communication happened over CB radio.
Since buying the first villa, the Moncures have not only expanded Bluefields to include five other villas and a series of jaw-dropping suites, but they’ve done so while contributing meaningfully to the surrounding community, paving roads to rural schools, providing computers to classrooms, and paying monthly stipends to local teachers. A certain percentage of each of their bookings goes to furthering this philanthropy under the direction of their own foundation.
Ninety minutes from the airport, Percy pulls into Bluefield’s Hermitage, a staggering four-bed, three-bath villa perched over the island’s South Coast. There’s a lot to take in all at once. The octagonal open-air dining room and adjoining living room with soaring vaulted ceilings give way to an expansive stone patio and glittering pool that appears to extend right into the ocean beyond. The architecture, which Deborah Moncure singlehandedly designed in a two-week fever dream, is the stuff of Architectural Digest.
Inside, details abound. The freshly cut flowers. The regal table setting complete with silver candelabra. The library lined with sun-bleached hardcovers. The tortoise shell hung on the wall. The ornate wooden chairs, desks and dressers — all Jamaican-made — some complete with claw feet. Every book, every stick of furniture, every silver spoon was hand-selected by Braxton Moncure, giving the Hermitage the dignified yet welcoming feel of an ambassador’s residence.
And then there’s the staff, lined up smiling and reporting to duty. The tip of the spear is Dwayne, the 30-year-old head butler who has been with Bluefields since he was 16. Braxton personally taught Dwayne a level of service that might best be described as royal. With a smile worthy of a toothpaste endorsement deal, Dwayne quarterbacks a ten-person team dedicated exclusively to the guests of the Hermitage that includes nannies, housekeepers, gardeners, night watchmen and two private chefs. In their midst, “pampering” takes on a whole new meaning.
Strolling down around the pool and past one of the three private terraces jutting out from the Hermitage’s footprint, cement stairs lead to a path running just above the water’s edge to a private white-sand beach. A classic Jamaican cabana equipped with frozen drinks and a local IPA on a makeshift tap is manned by Imani and Rudo, the latter of whom doubles as the captain of Bluefields’ outboard that ferries guests out to the nearby reef to snorkel, scuba dive or just take in the sunset.
The day culminates at the long dining room table where Dwayne, now donning a black bowtie, and his team glide effortlessly about with silver platters of appetizers. Taking a seat, the dazzling table setting alone would make Martha Stewart gawk. Freshly cut blossoms are scattered about the three-foot-high candelabra. Napkins are folded with origami-like precision. Polished antique silverware frame fine china. By the time Dwayne returns with the first course, diners have already been transported back to a time of yore when dining was also intended as a feast for the eyes.
Chef Shellyann Clarke emerges from the kitchen to formally present the courses. Johnson and Wales-trained, she communicates directly with the guests throughout their stay, curating her menu to meet dietary restrictions while also suggesting authentic Jamaican dishes that augment the experience. There have been no exaggerations to the descriptions above, but when it comes to the cuisine it bears emphasizing: Chef Clarke’s cuisine would stand up to the very finest fine dining restaurants in the world. Period. End of sentence.
Busy is not a word that seems to exist in Bluefields. There is absolutely no sense of urgency to any moment of the day. At first, this lack of action and constant attending to by the staff feels almost unnerving. Can I possibly relax like this for a week? But like any good seductress, Bluefields casts its spell imperceptibly until the thought of living any other way seems unthinkable.
For those who worry whether this rare experience is fleeting, fear not: The Moncure’s eldest son, Houston — who was born and raised in Montego Bay — has been gradually picking up the mantle from his parents alongside his welcoming wife Kate. Like all secret family recipes, new ingredients are being added, but the Bluefields’ special sauce is here to stay. Whether or not all the villas will be booked up by the time you read this — well now that’s another question.
The Hermitage at Bluefields Bay starts at $1,351 per night plus a 15% service fee for two people; four-night minimum required.
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