You’ll cruise Exuma’s cays by boat with a Bahamian guide—feeding swimming pigs at Big Major Cay, spotting iguanas on Leaf Cay, snorkeling inside Thunderball Grotto’s glowing cavern, and swimming with nurse sharks if you’re brave enough. A local lunch stop brings fresh flavors and island chatter before heading back salty, sun-warmed, and full of stories.
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Exuma Cays: Swimming Pigs, Sharks & Thunderball Grotto TourYou are here★ 4.89 (102)7h 30mUS$ 308
Great Exuma: ATV Tour to Beaches, Caves & Historic SitesFeel the wind on an ATV ride through Exuma’s beaches, caves, and local farms. Includes guide, bottled water, and easy-to-drive ATVs for all experience levels.★ 4.88 (96)3hUS$ 174View › “You ever seen a pig swim?” Robert grinned at us as the boat slowed near Big Major Cay. I’d heard about these swimming pigs in Exuma, but seeing them paddle out—snouts up and tails wiggling—felt totally surreal. The water was so clear you could count the grains of sand under their hooves. Someone handed me a piece of apple and, honestly, I panicked a little when one big pig swerved right for it. Robert just laughed and told me to keep my fingers straight—good advice.
After that chaos (and yeah, my shorts got wet), we zipped over to Leaf Cay. The sun was already high, and the iguanas were everywhere—rusty pinks and browns against the white sand. Our guide pointed out how they bob their heads when curious; I tried it back at one and it just stared me down like I owed it money or something. The air smelled salty-sweet, kind of like sunscreen mixed with seaweed. We kept moving—Compass Cay next—and I’ll admit I hesitated before sliding into the water with nurse sharks circling below. They’re calmer than they look though; one brushed past my leg and I didn’t even flinch (well, maybe a little).
I didn’t expect Thunderball Grotto to be so quiet inside—the light filters through holes in the rock ceiling and you can hear your own breathing through the snorkel. Fish darted everywhere, flashes of yellow and blue in the shadows. Lunch at Black Point was loud again—fried snapper, rice that tasted smoky somehow, cold Kalik beers sweating on the table. Locals chatted nearby about fishing conditions while we tried not to spill hot sauce on ourselves.
There were extra stops on the way back—I lost track after a while because Robert kept pointing out little islands he grew up around (“That’s where my cousin caught his first bonefish!”). By the time we docked at Barraterre again, my skin felt tight from salt and sun but in that good way you only get after a real day outside. Still think about those pigs sometimes—you know?
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