St Maarten: Private Island Tour, Plane Watching & Beach Bars

4.77

(152 reviews)

What’s the experience like?

“You ever had your hair almost blown off by a plane?” That’s how our guide started as we rolled into Maho Beach. I laughed—thought he was joking. But a few minutes later, there I was, clutching my hat as a jet thundered right overhead. The sand whipped around and everyone on the beach cheered like kids at a parade. It’s loud and weirdly thrilling—my heart actually sped up. We’d only just left Simpson Bay an hour earlier, sun already hot on the van roof, but this felt like another world.

Marigot came next—French side, so everything smells like pastry and sea breeze. Our guide (he called himself “Pelican” but I’m still not sure if that’s his real name) led us through the market where locals sell guava jam and spicy rum. Tried to order a croissant in French; butchered it so badly the baker just grinned and handed me two for the price of one. The colors here are wild—bright shirts flapping in the wind, blue shutters against white walls, kids darting between stalls. Didn’t expect to feel so at home somewhere so far away.

We stopped for photos at Oyster Pond—Atlantic air sharp with salt—and then again at that border point where Dutch meets French. There’s no wall or anything, just a sign and some jokes from Pelican about which side has better beer (jury’s out). By Orient Bay, the vibe shifted—quiet waves, sunbathers half-asleep under faded umbrellas. Some folks went jet skiing but I just lay back and listened to conversations in three languages blending with the surf. The private tour meant we could linger wherever felt right; no rush at all.

I still think about that view from Mr. Bells’ spot—flag snapping in the wind above Cole Bay and Simpson Bay below. Cold drink in hand (included with the tour), breeze on my face, not much to do except watch boats drift past and wonder if I’ll ever get used to these colors. Maybe not—and maybe that’s okay.