The Virgin Islands 5 months after Irma

I’ve seen them before, the “FEMA blue” tarps dotting the landscape below as you fly over the Virgin Islands. They are the makeshift emergency tarpaulin rooves supplied by FEMA after a disaster. It has been five months, nearly to the day, since Hurricane Irma, the Category 5 wrecking ball devastated many of the northern Antilles from Barbuda to Puerto Rico. Category 5 is the top of the Saffir-Simpson hurricane scale. But one elderly Tortola native told me that “if the scale went to 7, it wouldn’t have been high enough for Irma. Hugo [the last Cat 5 in 1989] was a baby compared to this”. He rode out Irma under his home’s concrete roof.

The Caribbean has known many hurricanes. They are an annual occurrence, especially in September. But Irma had no equal. A credible survivor on North Sound of Virgin Gorda, which by all evidence took the worst beating of all, reported sustained wind of 175 mph, an 8-foot storm surge and a peak gust of 245 mph.

A Category 5 hurricane is defined as 155+ mph wind. They are exceptionally rare. Not surprisingly, I am told, there have never been two category 5 hurricanes simultaneously in all of recorded weather history. But there were in September, 2017. The second “5”, named Maria, fortunately swooped a bit south toward St. Croix, sparing the northern Virgins another direct hit, before heading northwest to hammer Puerto Rico. Still, Maria caused further destruction and finished off already weakened structures in the Virgin Islands.

I was not leading sailing vacation adventures on this trip as I have many dozens of times before. I went to see for myself what happened there and to help if possible. I know many locals well, especially in the BVI (British Virgin Islands). I have watched them grow up from babies to ferry captains, chefs, shopkeepers, and resort managers. I sought to check on as many as possible.

I visited St. Thomas and St. John in the U.S. Virgins and then Tortola and Virgin Gorda in the B.V.I - the reverse order in which Irma paid her visit. They lie in an east-west line and are mostly within sight of one another. They are all struggling to this day clearing away rubble and re-building. Few have landfills nearly large enough to accept the mountains of debris the storms left in their wake.

St. Thomas

My first impression was surprise over the large number of brand new cars. I expected to see wrecks. Evidently car insurance companies were quick to respond there. Lots of shiny new late model cars were driving down primary streets with broken traffic lights dangling from wires above major intersections.

There were rows of cherry-picker trucks parked in lots in several places on the island. Presumably they were there to help replace fallen utility poles and to restore power and communication, but the vast majority of them were idle with no crew in sight. Most utility poles look brand new. Discarded power and cable lines lie on the ground alongside the road in many areas. Power is mostly restored everywhere on the island, but occasional blackouts continue. Internet is still out or spotty in many areas. Quite a few shops and restaurants can’t take credit cards. If you go, bring extra cash.

In downtown Charlotte Amalie there was a long winding queue of residents at a government building parking lot across from the ferry terminal. They were there for hurricane relief assistance. Many held umbrellas to shade them from the tropical sun while they waited. Each went away with a cardboard box of provisions and a case of bottled water.

Mega-cruise ships were back in port again, and the nearby tourist traps were all cleaned up, open and bustling. They are an important part of the local economy. Magen’s Bay, the main beach attraction on the north side of the island, was thinly populated for this time of year. Tourists have not returned in significant numbers yet. The precious few habitable hotel rooms are still occupied primarily by relief workers. Accommodations are scarce; and of the few resorts which have staggered to their feet, few if any are completely ready to offer all that their websites promise. A number of resort beaches are badly eroded.

St. John

The car ferry between Red Hook (St. Thomas) and Cruz Bay (St. John) is busy and tightly loaded, mostly because of all the trucks going back and forth carrying workers, tools, and dump trucks full of rubble. Similar to all of the islands many houses and stores on St. John are missing their rooves. FEMA blue is seen nearly everywhere still. There aren’t enough roofers and roofing material to go around. Everyone must wait his/her turn.

I was struck by the number of composite sectional utility poles newly installed there. They were black and appeared to be made of carbon fiber. Never seen that before – nor on any of the other islands on this trip.

Skinny Legs, a remote funky beach bar (sporting FEMA blue) on Coral Bay was surprisingly busy. It had the winter Olympics showing on a flat-panel TV – a strange contrast to a tropical setting. Nearby there were small boats embedded in the mangroves and mangled inflatables. Other boats were sunk in the surrounding harbors with just parts of them poking up through the surface.

St. John’s signature beach is at Trunk Bay. It is part of the sprawling National Park there. It is pretty spectacular. A natural beauty. But the park technically is “closed”. You can still go there, but there are no employees and most facilities are locked. The Federal government isn’t much interested in funding the National Parks these days.

Tortola

The “Fast Ferry” from Charlotte Amalie (St. Thomas) to Road Town (Tortola) arrives at a pier with construction going on all around. The town was badly beaten up by Irma, and the government building, where you would normally go to clear customs and immigration, was being re-built. The Immigration Office for now is a make-shift folding table under a 10x10 open-sided tent. Two uniformed immigration officers sat on folding chairs stamping passports. The Customs Office, nearby, was the same – another folding table under a tent just big enough to offer some shade. It doesn’t get any simpler than that.

From my observation the B.V.I. got hit harder than the U.S.V.I. Perhaps it only appeared so because FEMA was better and faster at providing hurricane relief in the U.S.V.I. The B.V.I.s are semi-autonomous under the British flag. Locals there say that the government has done little to help them. So lots of places are still a wreck. At least the roads have been cleared. Along the shore there are still countless boats of every description half sunk, overturned, smashed up on rocks or piled one on top of the other. A surprising number were washed up into vegetation on the shoreward side of a coastal road.

A longtime taxi driver reported that there were five hurricane-related deaths on Tortola. In one, a woman went outside to take photos during the hour-long calm as the eye of Irma passed overhead. She didn’t make it back to safety in time before the ferocious eyewall caught her. Her remains were found some time after the storm “with every bone in her body broken”.

He said the damage was “spotty” though. Anegada, an atoll just 15 miles or so to the north, miraculously had no major damage at all. Those who had evacuated to Tortola actually ended up in a worse place than those who stayed behind. Cow Wreck Beach, one of my favorite spots on Anegada’s north shore, is back in full operation with its delightfully laid back beachfront honor bar.

Bomba Shack, the iconic beach bar on the north shore of Tortola, infamous for its full moon parties and mushroom tea, is gone. Not even a trace. If you didn’t know where to look, you would never think anything stood there before. The shore road nearby is badly eroded and barely passable. Repairs are underway.

The bigger charter boat companies like Sunsail and Moorings, have raced masterfully to get back up and running for the charter season, but their clientele is still spooked. Some charter companies lost half their fleets. Totaled. But what boats they have in operation are in fine shape and available.

The Sir Francis Drake Channel, the main highway of the B.V.I.s should be teeming with sails this time of year, but it looks more like it did 40 years ago before the B.V.I.s were “discovered”. Very thin boat traffic. Cooper Island Beach Club is out of commission I was told. Same for Peter Island. Norman I. lost the Willie T (the famous floating bar in The Bight). It broke its mooring and washed up on shore. A new one is under construction I heard. On the brighter side Jost Van Dyke is back up and running at both White Bay (The Soggy Dollar) and in town (the iconic, Foxy’s).

Tropical vegetation, if not stripped away in hurricane wind, always goes totally brown after a hurricane, but it usually comes back in a few months. It almost looks normal now. There were numerous “topped” palm trees on every island. Some were goners but quite a few showed signs of rejuvenation. Very resilient trees – palms. Some flowering shrubs were greened out and already blooming. The marina at Nanny Cay was totally devastated. Nearly all docks, pilings, and finger piers were broken up and their remains now collected on the north side of the harbor. Some boats were sunk and awaiting their turn to get hauled out for disposal or repair. The “hard” was tightly packed with badly damaged pleasure yachts of all types and sizes. Few sailboats had masts. Rigging and broken spars were still strewn about nearly everywhere. Boatyard workers and mechanics had their hands full. It likely will be years before they clear the backlog of repairs.

The gas dock was in business at Nanny Cay but had few customers. MarineMax was fully operational and an outboard boat rental outfit, Island Time Powerboat, was open and had a few boats for rent.

A volunteer hurricane relief group was encamped in a tent-city of sorts in the courtyard of the marina hotel. They were respectful, well-organized, and focused on helping schools and the hospital to get back on their feet. Most slept in tents.

Virgin Gorda

I rented a 24’ twin-screw powerboat at Nanny Cay on Tortola and went straight to North Sound on Virgin Gorda in the first weather window. North Sound should be busy and vibrant this time of year. It seemed more like a ghost town. Leverick Bay showed modest signs of life. The debris was mostly cleared, most of the property was cleaned up, beach chairs were out, and workers were re-decking the damaged main dock. The British-style phone booth is still there – just a little banged up.

Gun Creek was silent. No one in sight. The ferry dock and shelter seemed fine. But there was no place to tie up. The dock was fully surrounded with small boats. Two inter-island cargo ships were beached nearby. No one in sight on them either.

Vixen Point surprised me. It is on an uninhabited island (Prickly Pear). It’s a favorite beach stop for small cruise ships visiting North Sound. A new wooden building was being roofed there. The small rickety pier was washed away, but the beach appeared to be in pretty good shape.

Yacht Club Costa Smeralda lost its entire dock and pilings to Irma. The super yachts which gravitate there will have to anchor for the time being, if they go at all. It will be a long time before dock space is again ready for them to tie up and plug in. Hundreds of feet of floating dock (just a few years old) broke up in the storm. Many floating pieces washed up on Richard Branson’s Mosquito I. [I read somewhere that he renamed it recently to something less off-putting.]

The Fat Virgin Café is sadly trashed and so is the dinghy tie up dock in front. Actually the dinghy dock is completely gone. There were no signs of activity anywhere around. I tried to catch up with Esther Wheatley, its owner, on Tortola but missed her.

Biras Creek Resort is a sad mess and appears all but abandoned, except for a lonely boat or two tied up at the undamaged portion of the dock. Biras Creek has been out of operation for a few years now. It has gone unmaintained and this storm didn’t help any. The roof on the main building is severely damaged with a gaping hole to the heavens. No tarp.

Saba Rock Resort is trashed as well. The entire expansive deck, where the bar and sprawling restaurant once stood, is completely gone. Much of the debris has been cleared away, but there were no signs of current activity. It is in very sad shape but promises a comeback.

The Bitter End Yacht Club, the jewel of North Sound, is closed for the season. Clean-up is underway, but it will take some time. The property covers a full mile of waterfront. None of its dozens of structures is salvageable. The photos and videos served up on the internet after Irma tell the tale. It was simply devastated. Richard, Wendy, and Lauren of the Hokin family (2nd and 3rd generation owners since the early 70s) were on site and were remarkably upbeat as we strolled through the rubble.

When the board is erased so completely like this, it presents a rare opportunity to redesign and improve things from scratch. The Hokins and their Connecticut-based team are busily making plans to bring the popular sailor’s resort back to life. An architectural firm has been retained to help design “Bitter End 2.0”, their tongue-in-cheek nickname for the new vision. It will most likely be rolled out over several years in stages. Rome wasn’t built in a day after all. It will, no doubt, be worth waiting for.

BEYC can be reached only by boat. There are no roads connecting it to the central part of the island. There is no room for a landfill and no way to get it off property; so the rubble, mostly wood, has to be incinerated (with due protections for the environment) on site. That is expected to reduce the volume by 95%, a much more manageable size.

Virgin Gorda Yacht Harbor in Spanish Town (locally known as The Valley) is partially functional but hardly ready for visitors except perhaps to buy fuel. There are still boats sunk or badly damaged in the marina. Many dozens more were badly damaged in the boatyard. Not a single shop, including the grocery store, is open. They are all gutted. Most have broken windows. The uncharacteristically light traffic in the commercial center is mostly noisy dump trucks hauling rubble. A small restaurant across the street had no food at all, only bottled beverages. A sad state for a formerly thriving downtown.

The dock attendant insisted on charging $20 for a 90 minute tie-up in a facility with utterly no accommodations to speak of. Even the men’s room was out of commission.

West Indians report there is very little employment on Virgin Gorda particularly for women. The few jobs available right now are for construction workers. The local culture sees construction as man’s work.

Many homes, perhaps most, have severely damaged or missing rooves. Plywood sheathing there goes for a steep $118 a sheet. Tarpaulins have to suffice until the economy comes back.