For years I put off going to Bermuda. It seemed a bit too buttoned-down for my taste, too clubby, too genteel. I was afraid I'd have to wear pink pants and a madras jacket, or worse, those eponymous shorts with the knee-high socks. Not a good look on me.

Plus, since it is stuck all by itself way out in the Atlantic, well north of the Bahamas and due east of the Carolinas, I was skeptical that Bermuda could deliver what I look most for in island vacations-a tropical or, at the very least, semi-tropical experience. I prefer places

that are warm and beachy and surrounded by blue-blue water, with a culture that is a tad exotic, not some cookie-cutter version of upscale resorts you can find stateside.

While those seeking an exclusive, country-clubbish getaway will find everything they want in Bermuda-lovingly manicured golf courses, five-star hotels with white-glove service, an abiding British refinement, one gorgeous home after another-"the Rock," as locals call it, is refreshingly laid-back. Its beaches are as beautiful as any in the Caribbean and its bonhomie is typical of more southern islands, not really all that surprising when you consider that more than half the population of 60,000 traces its heritage to the West Indies. My recent visit left me asking, "What took me so long in getting here?"

My immediate liking for Bermuda was due largely to my staying at 9 Beaches, a resort at the northeast tip of the archipelago (Bermuda is actually comprised of some 120 islands, the six main ones connected by bridges and causeways), which is about as welcoming a place as one can imagine.

"Bermuda does have a bit of a reputation as being staid and starchy, but we've gone out of our way to dismiss that image," says Russ Urban, managing director of 9 Beaches, which takes its dress code-"flip-flops required"-to heart by issuing complimentary rubber sandals to guests.

Originally conceived by a previous owner as an eco-resort, an idea that didn't jibe well with Bermuda's typical tourist profile, 9 Beaches opened this spring with an aim of melding sybaritic delights-cozy lodgings, great food and wine-with serious outdoor pursuits. Its 84 bungalows, some scattered along a hillside and others perched atop stilts in the ultra-clear water, are spare but stylish. Credit interior designer Lynn Wilson, whose work is also on display at such rarefied retreats as the Biltmore in Coral Gables. Chef John Pritchard presides over a kitchen staff that is as adept at turning out classic renditions of seafood specialties-the local Wahoo was a masterpiece-as it is putting on beachside barbecues where steaks and shrimp kabobs are paired with the perfect wines. There's also a roving dining cart that covers the resort premises, serving up snacks and beverages.

And the beach bar, Dark 'n Stormy's, pours an excellent rendition of its namesake, Bermuda's national drink, made with the local Gosling's Black Seal rum, Barritt's ginger beer (another island specialty), plenty of ice and a slice of lime.

There really are at least nine beaches along the resort's 18 acres, several of them pocket-sized and intimate, and a couple more make an appearance at low tide. During my visit, 9 Beaches was talking about having a contest to name all its beaches. I don't know how that turned out, but I gave some of them names of my own-Killer Sunrise Beach, Umbrella Drink Beach, Fall-Asleep-with-a-Book Beach-as I saw fit. This is not to give the idea that 9 Beaches is all about indolence. Perched as it is on a promontory known as Daniel's Head, the area receives a steady breeze and is a prime spot for windsurfing and kiteboarding.

Encircled by reefs that have claimed hundreds of shipwrecks over the centuries, the waters are a playground for scuba divers. Indeed, Bermuda's first residents arrived here involuntarily in 1609 when their ship, the Sea Venture, went hard aground, an event that is said to have inspired William Shakespeare when he wrote The Tempest. One morning I hooked up with Blue Water Divers and dived the wreck of the Marie Celeste, a Confederate blockade-runner that perished on Bermuda's reefs in 1864. The stern paddlewheel of the wreck was still visible in about 75 feet of water, encrusted with corals and a magnet for big grouper and snapper.

"While Bermuda is oh-so civilized on shore, there's no telling what you'll find underwater," says Fiona McDuie, the Australian-born dive master who led my dive. "There are at least 400 known shipwrecks around the island, and it seems that almost every day someone is stumbling across something new and amazing. It's wild, absolutely wild."

Bermuda's often perilous relationship with the Atlantic, as well as its wondrous underwater resources, are on display at two notable places: the Bermuda Maritime Museum, located

in the Royal Naval Dockyard and the country's most-visited attraction; and the Bermuda Underwater Exploration Institute, just outside the capital of Hamilton, which offers a glimpse at some of the artifacts pulled from Bermuda shipwrecks.

Perhaps the most iconic image of Bermuda-besides those darn shorts and knee-high socks, and yes, some men actually wear them-is of tourists on mopeds. As one of the most densely populated places on the planet, Bermuda allows only one automobile per household. The law further holds that no tourists can rent cars, but they can clog up the roads with mopeds.

Wanting to have the full Bermuda experience, I duly rented a moped for a day and I am here to tell you: It was not fun. In fact, it was probably the most unrelaxing day I've ever spent on an island anywhere, and this includes walking through downtown San Juan, Puerto Rico, at midnight. The problem is that there is plenty to gawk at on Bermuda-all those lovely pastel houses, beautiful gardens, a string of gorgeous coves and beaches along the west coast-but take your eye off the road for just one moment and, if you are an inexperienced moped driver, as most tourists are, you will find yourself vectoring toward the shoulder or crossing the median into the path of an oncoming pickup. Then factor in that you are driving on the left-hand side instead of the right, and it is not very relaxing at all. I saw three moped wrecks involving tourists during my day on the road, and one of these took place in the parking lot of the place where I was renting a moped.

"It's not a fact that the tourism department wants to spread around, but there are at least a dozen accidents a day involving tourists on mopeds," said one Bermudan policeman I stopped to chat with in downtown Hamilton.

And I soon turned in my moped, caught a taxicab back to 9 Beaches and spent the rest of the afternoon safely ensconced on Umbrella Drink Beach.

Bob Morris, whose latest novel is Jamaica Me Dead (St. Martin's Press), was a finalist for the 2005 Edgar Allan Poe Award for best mystery novel.