Eternally Anchored
We escape the squall’s after a ride on the small Water Island ferry (max. 25 passengers) and pass through a wall of thick, oppressive air. As we saunter off the plank, the turquoise ocean strikes us like a slap in the face. Meanwhile, residents calmly locate their golf carts at the ocean’s front and zoom back to their homes amongst the other 170 or so inhabitants, groceries in hand.
We arrive on Water Island in unusually turbid weather and yet our hosts, Deborah and Paul Quade, appear to be untroubled, forcing us to almost overlook the pounding winds.
After a speedy tour of the 491.5 acres that make up this island, we approach the night gently as black snakes slither across the pathway to our cabins. Heavy rains attempt to stir us off this miniscule and secluded island.
With the sound of WWII planes overhead, and heavy cracks of a looming storm making its way from the East, there is no denying our desire to curl into our luxurious eco-friendly cottages and fall fast asleep.
It is 9 p.m.
For more information, visit the Virgin Islands Campground.
Morgane Veronique Richardson, Editor/Writer
