Beyond Grace Bay: Where to Find the Authentic Turks and Caicos

As international brands arrive and development accelerates, Turks and Caicos is entering a new chapter. A journey from Providenciales to South Caicos and Pine Cay reveals where travelers can still find the quiet beaches, unhurried rhythms, and understated luxury that first made the islands unforgettable.

I saw a terrible thing on Instagram recently. (I realize that’s kind of like saying, “I took a breath today.”) An account for the Turks and Caicos Islands was giddily announcing Starbucks’ arrival on the capital island of Providenciales. Local residents and longtime visitors alike shared their unedited, angry thoughts in the comments. I was one of them. (I might’ve posted a barf emoji.) While this would only be the coffee giant’s second location after the cruise terminal on Grand Turk island, it pointed to a concerning trend.

The issue wasn’t Frappuccinos. It was protecting Providenciales’ (“Provo’s”) character in the Caribbean: no cruise ships, few nightclubs, a relatively under-the-radar vibe. But Starbucks is just following in the sandy footsteps of other big brands like The Ritz-Carlton and Andaz who’ve set up shop on Provo in recent years. They're all betting on its continuing transformation from hidden gem to high-profile hotspot. Maybe that’s why the urge to protect this place from global commerce feels more essential than ever.

So where can travelers still find the luxuriously low-key Turks and Caicos that made it so special? My photographer-husband Mike and I journeyed south from New York to get a closer look at three resorts across the archipelago to find out.

The OG: Providenciales

The once-quiet fishing island of Providenciales waded into the waters of international tourism in the 1980s with the opening of Club Med Turkoise along the jaw-dropping beauty of Grace Bay. (I was surprised to see it back in operation after having closed for a few years.) Three miles of cool, white-quartz sand against calm, electric-blue waters are why this has often been named the World’s Best Beach and why there are easily more than 1,000 hotels, resorts, vacation rentals, condos, and smaller guesthouses here today. Grace Bay remains unbelievably beautiful — but a secret getaway it is not.

Some of the island’s newest properties, such as The Strand, are building along other bodies of water. In this case, its Cooper Jack Bay on the south side of Provo. The property’s beachfront is man-made and, while it’s conveniently close to the airport, it also sits under the flight path. And while you don’t really hear them, you see planes crossing overhead throughout the day. That said, the new resort offers plenty of charms and is a getaway so accessible you can have breakfast in Brooklyn and be feet-in-sand by lunchtime. Open for less than two years, The Strand is already a member of The Leading Hotels of the World collection of independent luxury hotels.

The 68 places to lay your head range from oceanfront suites (some with private pools, some without) to sprawling villas designed for large groups. The architecture seamlessly melds indoor spaces with the great outdoors: huge, sliding-glass doors, limestone walls made from island rock, floors crafted from local wood, infinity pools that seem to pour into the bay. The contemporary décor of clean lines and a neutral palate is as calming as it is chic.

The hotel’s DelMar restaurant leans heavily on local fare like lobster and red snapper as well as heavier comfort foods like rigatoni with lamb ragu and truffle parmesan potato puree. But the star of The Strand’s culinary service is Alvaro Zepeda, the positively jolly chef who will walk you through the history of Salvadoran, Lebanese, and Mexican cuisine (his heritage) and influences from his work across Mexico and Belize. He taught us how to deftly dice conch in an al fresco cooking class and later checked on our table with the attention of a mother hen.

During our final dinner, he stopped by to see how our meal was and ask if he’d see us in the next morning. No, we’re taking a very early flight to South Caicos. He was so concerned we’d miss breakfast — not as paying customers at his restaurant, but as people with potentially empty bellies — that he hurriedly made breakfast burritos for us to take back to our suite and enjoy the next day at dawn.

The gym here is incredible. It’s not all that big, but is brand new and full of phenomenal equipment, including a top-of-the-line treadmill and a Gym Rax training bay where you can choose from hundreds of on-demand classes in your own little workout space. I usually bristle at in-room fitness or the always-empty hotel fitness center. Here? I loved this gym. My husband loved this gym. We miss this gym.

The design, the chef, the gym — all stellar. But what The Strand offers today’s Provo traveler is quiet. Grace Bay isn’t Miami Beach, but it has towering hotels and plenty of life. The Strand’s half mile of beach is private and, while the waves aren’t at calm Grace Bay’s, it is only open to guests.

Living Large in South Caicos

But if you’re looking for an even more throwback Turks & Caicos experience, you’ll need to hop a ferry or catch an inter-island flight from Provo to South Caicos.

South Caicos, home to about 1,000 people (and a bunch of flamingoes, donkeys, dolphins, and whales), has only two resorts. A 25-minute flight to a teeny airport and a 20-minute drive on a bumpy unpaved road took us to Sailrock South Caicos, a five-star resort on a hill at the edge of nowhere.

“The Big South” was once the hub of the Turks and Caicos’ massive salt trade, a crucial commodity exported to the United States and beyond. When the industry was abandoned in the 1960s, the island got very quiet. The donkeys that had been used for hauling were left behind. Their descendants now roam unbridled and free.

Sailrock brought carefully curated, low-density tourism to the island about a decade ago, offering a vacation for travelers seeking stillness without having to go off-grid. Everything that we needed was a WhatsApp message away, be that a bottle of Champagne or a golf-cart ride to The Great House to shop at the curated Harbour Bay Boutique for luxury apparel and handmade items like straw bags and children’s dolls made by local high schoolers.

Word of this rugged paradise has started to spread. Justin and Hailey Bieber and Neil Patrick Harris and David Burtka have stayed here, but the hotel isn’t drawing throngs of eager followers. (Yet.) For now, it still feels like you and the donkeys are the only creatures on the island.

The beachfront villas have a private pool and direct access to the Atlantic coast. I fell in love with the cross breeze that curled from the sliding doors of the outdoor shower all the way to our oceanfront terrace. The décor — white walls, gauzy curtains, crisp Frette linens, and turquoise design pops — nicely referenced the blue sea.

The food at Sailrock is excellent. I was delighted to see the menu’s influences range from the Caribbean to Europe to India. The trendy Wellness Menu skews plant-based and is thorough, not an afterthought. On our first night, we chose raw vegetable soup, cracked conch, a brilliant sea bass, and crispy pork belly (which was not from the Wellness Menu).

Sailrock’s Na Spa has no reception desk or locker room. It doesn’t even have walls. Set inside the Ridgetop Cabanas, the “spa” under a canvas tent accommodates up to two guests for massages or reflexology treatments as the island breeze swirls around.

Guests who want to leave land altogether can do so on a snorkeling tour, sailing lesson, or a “Catch and Cook” excursion and learn how to dive for fresh lobster and conch as the local anglers have for generations.

I didn’t see any of Big South’s famous flamingoes or breaching whales, but I was promised they’re here. At dusk one evening, my husband and I went for a walk along the Atlantic coast and spied a trio of sweet donkeys about 20 feet away in the dunes. The five of us stood happily stock still for a while as the Caribbean trade winds swirled around us and cooled as the sun set.

The Original Remains: Pine Cay

Another TCI island is even more remote than South.

On Pine Cay, motorized vehicles are not permitted, rooms have no locks or keys (no need), and shoes are emphatically optional. The island was named for the pine trees that are indigenous to this area. (Palm trees are the imports in Turks and Caicos.)

Pine Cay was the first island in the Turks and Caicos to welcome international travelers with a proper resort on one of the most secluded and untouched corners of the archipelago. Opened in the 1970s as The Meridian Club, today the eponymous Pine Cay is the only place to stay across these 800 acres, in 38 private houses (eight available to rent), eleven beachfront suites, and two cottages overseen by a small collective of multi-generational homeowners. A full post-pandemic renovation has earned Pine Cay the only Relais & Châteaux accreditation in Turks & Caicos.

This is an elegant castaway experience of almost monastic silence inside a beautifully weathered yacht club. Children under 12 are not allowed and neither are cell phones (in most of the shared spaces anyway). No music — live or recorded — plays in the poolside restaurant. You’re resigned to relax into the sounds of the ocean waves and trade winds.

Like Sailrock’s breezy beachfront villas, Pine Cay’s room design invites the fresh island air to envelop you as you move about the space. Our cottage, named Sea Biscuit, sat 150 feet from the water’s edge in the pines. The world’s third largest barrier reef slows the waves to a near halt, so the huge expanse of beach and shallow waters deepened the feeling of isolation and peace.

At a roomy 900-square feet inside and plenty of space between cottages, you can breathe. Walking through the pine forest on sand covered in green branches makes Pine Cay feel more like my childhood trips to summer camp in the Adirondack Mountains than a cliché Caribbean getaway. A cold beer beckoned louder than a piña colada.

Good news, though: I could get both (and more) at the Tiki Beach Bar on the western side of the island, a perfect perch for sunsets. Here there may be a quiet singer-songwriter on guitar, but not much more.

I did very little on this island — happily. I slept in. I waded in the warm shallow waters. I finished a book.

That’s what the big-tower builders and venti-Frappuccino sellers don’t value: the beauty of contraction versus expansion. Less steel. Less caffeine. Fewer people. Fewer options.

Turks and Caicos may be changing, but many parts of this breathtaking corner of the Caribbean are doing so slowly. And, in the best cases, hardly at all.