Bermuda is weirdly specific about its sand. If you’ve spent any time scrolling through travel feeds, you've seen those impossible, strawberry-milkshake shores. It’s real. That’s the first thing you have to understand about the Pink Beach Club Bermuda—or at least, the legendary patch of South Shore real estate that used to carry that name. For decades, if you were a certain kind of traveler, the kind who valued privacy over neon umbrellas, this was the only place that mattered.
But things changed.
If you hop in a taxi at L.F. Wade International Airport today and ask for the Pink Beach Club, the driver might give you a knowing look. They’ll take you to the same limestone cliffs in Smith’s Parish, but what you’ll find there isn’t the mid-century cottage colony of the 1940s. It’s something entirely different. The site is now home to The Loren at Pink Beach. It’s a massive shift from "old-school Bermuda charm" to "Manhattan-on-the-ocean."
The soul of the original Pink Beach Club Bermuda
To get why people still search for the original name, you have to understand the old vibe. Bermuda used to be defined by "cottage colonies." Think white-roofed stone buildings, dark wood interiors, and a strict dress code for dinner. The Pink Beach Club was the king of this aesthetic. It wasn't about being flashy. It was about having two private beaches—literally called Big Pink Beach and Little Pink Beach—where you could disappear.
The sand here gets its hue from Homotrema rubrum. It’s a tiny red organism that lives on the underside of coral reefs. When they die, their skeletons mix with crushed white shells and calcium carbonate. The result? A soft, dusty rose color that looks best at sunset.
The old club was beloved by celebrities who wanted to stay anonymous. We’re talking about people like Michael Douglas and Catherine Zeta-Jones, who eventually made Bermuda a semi-permanent home. It was the kind of place where the staff knew your drink order for thirty years. Honestly, that kind of loyalty is rare now. In 2013, the property faced the reality that "charming" often translates to "dated." The old infrastructure was tired. After a period of closure and a lot of local speculation, the site was leveled to make way for the first new hotel build on the island in nearly a decade.
What happened when the wrecking balls arrived
The transition wasn't just a renovation. It was a total philosophical pivot. When the Pink Beach Club Bermuda was reimagined as The Loren, the developers ditched the floral prints and the stuffy colonial vibes. They went with floor-to-ceiling glass.
Some locals hated it at first. It felt too modern for an island that prides itself on 400 years of tradition. But here’s the thing: the view didn’t change. You’re still sitting on those jagged aeolian limestone cliffs. The water is still that piercing electric blue that looks like someone messed with the saturation slider on your eyeballs.
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Why the location is actually superior to Hamilton or St. George’s
Most tourists crowd into the South Shore parks like Horseshoe Bay. Don't get me wrong, Horseshoe is stunning, but it’s a zoo when the cruise ships are in port. Pink Beach is tucked away. It’s on the road toward Tucker’s Town (where the "billionaire’s row" houses are). You get the same pink sand without having to fight a thousand people for a square inch of towel space.
Bermuda’s geography is basically a fishhook. The "eye" of the hook is the West End, and the "point" is the East End. Pink Beach sits right in the middle of the long stretch. It’s breezy. Because it faces the open Atlantic rather than the Great Sound, the waves have a bit more life to them. You can hear the ocean breathing through your window. It’s loud. It’s rhythmic. It’s perfect.
The "Pink Sand" myth versus reality
Let's get real for a second about the sand. If you go expecting neon pink, you’ll be disappointed. It’s subtle. It’s more of a "suggestion" of pink that becomes undeniable when the water recedes.
- Wet sand: This is where the color pops.
- Dry sand: Looks more like creamy off-white with flecks of red pepper.
- The Contrast: The pinkness is actually an optical illusion enhanced by the turquoise water. The two colors are opposites on the wheel, so they make each other look more vivid.
The Pink Beach Club Bermuda was built on this specific chemistry. The beach here is flanked by "boilers"—local terminology for the coral reefs that sit just at the surface. These reefs break the heavy Atlantic swells, creating calm pools for snorkeling. You’ll see parrotfish the size of dinner plates just five feet from the shore. They’re the ones responsible for the sand, too—they crunch up the coral and... well, they poop out the sand. Nature is glamorous like that.
Exploring the Smith’s Parish neighborhood
Most people stay at the resort and never leave the gates. That’s a mistake. Smith’s Parish is one of the most underrated parts of the island. Just down the road from the Pink Beach site is Spittal Pond Nature Reserve.
It’s 64 acres of wild coastline. You can see "Jeffrey’s Hole," a cave where a runaway slave reportedly hid, and "Portuguese Rock," where sailors carved the date 1543. It’s raw. It’s windy. It feels like the edge of the world. Walking there after a long lunch at the beach club is the best way to see the "real" Bermuda away from the gift shops and rum cake factories.
Another spot nearby? John Smith’s Bay. It’s a public beach, but because it’s a bit of a drive from the main tourist hubs, it’s mostly locals. On Friday nights, you’ll see families grilling and kids jumping off the rocks. If you want to feel the pulse of the island, go there.
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The dining shift: From silver service to crudo
The old Pink Beach Club Bermuda was famous for its traditional breakfast—codfish and potatoes with banana and avocado. It’s a Bermuda staple. While the new incarnation (The Loren) keeps some local flavors, the vibe has moved toward global fine dining.
The Marée lounge and the Pink Beach Club restaurant (which kept the name) focus on "farm-to-table," which is actually quite difficult on an island that imports 90% of its food. They lean heavily on the local catch. If you see Wahoo or Rockfish on the menu, order it. Don't ask questions. Just do it.
- Wahoo: Meaty, white, leans toward a mackerel texture but milder.
- Rockfish: The king of Bermuda fish. Flaky, buttery, and usually served with "Bermuda onion" jam.
Honestly, the best way to experience this specific spot is to grab a Dark ‘n Stormy (Gosling’s Black Seal Rum and Barritt’s Ginger Beer—never anything else) and sit on the terrace during a storm. The way the Atlantic hits the limestone cliffs at Pink Beach is violent and beautiful.
Navigating the logistics
Getting here is slightly more complicated than it used to be. Bermuda doesn't really do traditional car rentals for tourists. You used to be limited to mopeds, which resulted in a lot of "Bermuda sores" (road rash).
Now, you can rent these tiny electric two-seaters called Twizys or Microlinos. They’re basically enclosed scooters. They’re perfect for the narrow, winding roads leading to the Pink Beach area. Just remember: we drive on the left. The roads are lined with stone walls. There is no shoulder. If you lose focus, you’re hitting a wall or a hibiscus hedge.
Is it worth the price tag?
Bermuda is expensive. There is no way to sugarcoat that. A sandwich will cost you $25. A cocktail is $18. The Pink Beach area is one of the priciest pockets on the island.
But you’re paying for the lack of crowds. You’re paying for the fact that you can walk out onto the pink sand at 6:00 AM and be the only human being for a mile. In a world that is increasingly crowded and loud, that silence is the real luxury. The Pink Beach Club Bermuda transitioned from a cozy relic to a modern powerhouse, but the geological magic of the site remains untouched.
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Actionable insights for your visit
If you're planning a trip to this specific slice of Smith's Parish, keep these tips in mind to get the most out of the experience without looking like a total "clueless tourist."
Check the tide charts. The pink sand is most vibrant at low tide when the "wet zone" is exposed. If you go at high tide, the beach can look quite small, especially since the South Shore is prone to erosion during winter storms.
Pack your own snorkel gear. While the onsite amenities at the current club are great, having your own mask allows you to hop over to John Smith’s Bay or the hidden coves near Spittal Pond whenever the water looks clear. The best reefs are often just twenty yards off the shore.
Book your transport early. If you want one of those electric rental cars, book it weeks in advance. They sell out fast, especially when the weather is prime. Taxis are reliable but they add up quickly—a ride from this area to the city of Hamilton will run you about $30 to $40 each way.
Respect the "Boilers." Those circular reef formations look like great places to stand. Don't. They are living ecosystems and the coral is sharp. Observe the parrotfish from a distance and let the reefs do their job of protecting the pink sand you came to see.
Try the Sunday Brunch. Regardless of where you stay, the Sunday brunch at the Pink Beach site is a local tradition. It's the best way to try the traditional salt cod and potatoes without needing an invitation to a local's house.
The Pink Beach Club Bermuda may have evolved in its architecture, but the intersection of turquoise water and rose-colored sand is a constant. It’s a place that demands you slow down. Put the phone away after you get that one obligatory shot of the sand. Just sit on the limestone and listen to the Atlantic. That’s what the original regulars did in 1947, and it’s still the best way to spend a Saturday in Bermuda.