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Photo by: Zach Stovall

We have nothing against beachfront hair braiders or Bob Marley turned up to 11, and it’s hard to fault the sweet and smoky confluence of jerk chicken and, um, a certain herb. But there are times when we’d happily forgo all this Jamaican authenticity for a little peace and quiet. Sometimes it’s awfully nice to put your toes in the sand, breathe deeply of unembellished sea air and hear little more than the tinkling of the ice in your glass. There’s a place for that.

Reggae Beach, five minutes outside Jamaica’s bustling Ocho Rios along the North Coast Highway, is a privately owned arc of sand fastidiously tended and boxed in by cliffs at either end. During the day, the beach’s thatch-top bar and grill comprise mild-mannered Bamboo Beach Club, feeding and watering busloads of cruise-ship passengers on shore leave. When the sun sets, however, a long drive lined with paper-bag luminaria guides a crowd of nattily dressed locals and in-the-know tourists to something altogether different.

By night, bonfires dance on the sand and clusters of Adirondack chairs inspire recumbent mingling. When the munchies strike, the kitchen cooks up a fine array of beach food with the ocean as the star — try the jerk fish fillet over Caesar salad or, if you’re feeling sassy, the grilled lobster.

The drinks come off the same laminated menus that zinc-nosed cruisers peruse during the day, so there’s no shortage of little umbrellas and maraschino cherries. But order the Bamboo Duppy — duppy is the Jamaican word for ghost — and hang on to your flip-flops. “It haunts you from the first sip,” cautions bartender Clementine Gordon. With seven kinds of booze, it’s a poltergeist.

bamboobeachclub.com