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This little pocket of white sand is tucked into the rugged Malmok coastline.

Over time, this little inlet has become one of Aruba’s most popular snorkeling spots.

Long before our sailing days, Boca Catalina was a favorite place to escape.

A book, a towel, a few letters to write home and nowhere to be.

Shade beneath the seagrapes, sea glass to collect, and the occasional conch shell that felt like treasure in the ’80s.

Years later, when my son came along, our days were spent at Boca, floating on rafts and building castles in the sand.

Memories and seashells were collected.

It’s where he took his first swim.

He’s a fish now.

And with her impossible shade of Boca Blue revealing herself, it’s easy to understand her popularity.

And Then There’s Catalina

Along our short stretch of sparkling turquoise coastline are names that unmistakably belong to old Aruba: Arashi, Malmok and Hadicurari.

But distinctly different, tucked among them, is the bay called Boca Catalina.

How this lovely inlet came to carry her name is something I’ve wondered about often.

Old family lore from Malmok tells of a great-grandfather who brought his family to buy watermelons from a woman named Catalina who lived by the sea.

Coincidence?

Whether she gave Boca Catalina her name remains Catalina’s secret.

The Keeper of Memories

With my mask, snorkel and noodle, I often swam past Boca Catalina just after sunrise during the quiet of 2020, amazed by how many turtles I would see over the grassy bottom.

But one morning was different.

As I swam back to shore, I didn’t realize one had followed me until she surfaced for air beside me in waist-deep water, lingered for a moment, then slipped away.

Another little Boca Catalina moment for me to hold.

Sail, Snorkel, Swim and Swing

For nearly three decades, our Jolly Pirates schooners have brought guests to these same waters.

From the deck, I often think of all the memories this little beach must hold.

A child’s first swim. A morning beneath the seagrapes. A turtle coming up for air. A special photograph. A kiss. A seashell carried home.

Mine are only a few.

And surely, everyone who has loved Boca Catalina has a few of their own.

Boca Catalina is tiny. Her memories are not.