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Waikiki, Ipanema, Bondi, and Malibu, and one you probably have not paid too much attention to, but it is actually one of finest beaches in world, with great things to do - Cable Beach, in The Bahamas, surrounded by capital - Nassau - and former British outpost archipelago.

Click For Nassau City GuideA National Leisure Travel Monitor poll of 1,351 leisure travelers taken during first quarter of 2002 reflects that when families go away together, they also want to play together.

Even before events of September 11th, this trend surfaced, as was identified in Portrait of Family Travel - a 2001 survey of 284 adults who traveled with children and 424 children between ages of 6 and 17 years, in which nine out of 10 parents indicated "my kids' interests are an important factor in planning vacations."

To meet need for family recreational activities, at three of The Bahama's Cable Beach's premiere resorts: Wyndham Nassau Resort & Crystal Palace Casino, Radisson Cable Beach Resort, and Nassau Beach Hotel, have select activities that take needs for family fun seriously.

There are lots of activities whole family can enjoy together: snorkeling, a leisurely day sail, fun at outdoor pool, complete with thrill of a free-form waterslide. While resort's beachfront RainForest Adventure Golf, a miniature golf course, offers up such themed holes as Temple of Doom, Extreme Sand Castle, and Loop to Loop.

The Wyndham Nassau Resort also has many fun activities of interest to families, Flamingo Bar & Grille, located poolside, offers kid-friendly menu items such as hamburgers, hot dogs, fries and milk.

Additional area attractions and activities include: Adastra Gardens & Zoo (4 miles), Botanic Gardens, Fort Charlotte (5 miles), Island Cruises (5 miles), sailing (5 miles), Straw Market (5 miles).

The all-inclusive Radisson Cable Beach Resort offers innovative incentives for all family structures. Single parents traveling with children under age of 17 pay applicable double occupancy adult rate, rather than price applied to a single room. Camp Junkanoo is this resort's daily, supervised kids program, for children ages 4-12.

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I'm cruising out of Las Vegas through 120 miles of burnt brown desert, through Pahrump and Amargosa Valley, past Amargosa Opera House, then heading west at Death Valley Junction. I put Benz into neutral for a 20-mile coast into Death Valley National Park. There is no Park entrance station, thus no fees, so I smile a desert rat chapped grin.

It is August, heat gripping landscape in a tight infernal fist. Traffic is light. Wave after wave of desiccated mountain ranges unfold as I fall into a silent awe, tires humming, as I glide past Zabriskie Point into lowest point in Western Hemisphere — Death Valley National Park — astride California-Nevada border like a roadkill sidewinder rotting across yellow lines on baking tarmac.

I have stayed at Furnace Creek Inn three times, but never in heighth of summer heat. I am anxious to test my resolve in this true, rugged wilderness, but in elegant comfort. At least I am not behind a 40-mule team borax wagon. Do you remember "Death Valley Days" on TV? This is Ronald Reagan country. Salt licks. Salt pans. Panamint Mountains. Lost ghost mines. Borax mounds. Empty skies. Clear horizons. . . Heat. . . Hot. . . Water. . . !

Before leaving Pahrump I stop at a country store for ice water and last chance for ice cream bars. I have to eat ice cream fast, but ice water is now slush, and cold, and good. Don't roll down that window. Tires whirl with an unusual stickiness. Did I just see a buzzard? Nah, not in this noontime heat. Am I cracking up?

Then after a couple of curves there is mirage . . . Furnace Creek Inn, placed on a sandy, desert brow, looking across lonesome valley. A refuge from death.

I park quickly, wasting no time in hot box when A/C shuts down with a rumble and a knock. I crack windows a tad so leather seats don't melt. I grab my kit bag and skip up flagstone entrance to Furnace Creek. The blast of cool air tells me I would never make it as a pioneer, living out on range, drinking jimpson weed water, sweating like a long-eared dog and then becoming as delirious as a dead longhorn steer bloating with death, eyes bugging out . . . flies. . . !

No sirree. It is straight to Oasis Bar for a quick one, ice water that is. About a liter or two ought to do. Then I check into hotel and it is back to bar to swipe sweat off with a cocktail napkin. A whole bunch of cocktail napkins. The bartender eyes me as warily as a coyote checking poisoned bait.