September is here and it’s obvious that we’re in for a very active Hurricane Season. So far up here in West Florida we’ve felt the effects of two storms, Fay and Gustav, and are currently keeping an eye on two more systems out in the Atlantic while waiting to see where Hurricane Ike will turn. After what was essentially a two year hiatus, the tropics are going to be much more temperamental this fall.
Compared to the States, Vieques has had it very easy for the past several years. Since I moved to the island back in 2005, we’ve never once had to secure our house for an oncoming storm. In fact, the last hurricane to seriously affect Puerto Rico was Georges back in 1998. This same storm would later bull’s-eye Key West while I was living there, smashing a boat I was building at the time and leaving me flat broke for months. After that, I never went to another hurricane party. There’s really nothing fun about these storms.
In the Keys we had an escape route with US-1, the famous Overseas Highway. It gets plenty of use during Hurricane Season as Monroe County evacuates at the drop of a hat. Most of the time these evacuations are controversial false alarms. I tended to stay put during the storms. I feared getting caught in a traffic jam on the Seven Mile Bridge when the winds hit more than anything that could happen by staying.
But Vieques doesn’t have the luxury of a bridge to anywhere. We have to depend on a sometimes reliable government run ferry to get us off the island, which is one of the reasons that we now move Stateside during the season. If I have to be caught in another tropical storm or hurricane, and I’ve been through several, I want it to happen up here.
Our physical safety isn’t what I worry about. Our house on Vieques, like almost everyone else’s, is solid block construction. It has a flat, poured cement roof and sits 90 feet above sea level. It’s not going anywhere no matter how strong the storm and my Jeep and flats boat fit inside the carport, well out of harm‘s way. What I do worry about is the aftermath.
When Hurricane Georges hit us in the Keys, I went without power for five days, which wasn‘t such a big deal. I had friends who didn’t have electricity for two weeks. When the power finally came back on there were mosquitoes hatching from my carpet and I was trading my beer to the National Guardsmen for the MREs they didn‘t want. I learned to love freeze-dried chicken loaf for a few days that month. October is no time to be without electricity in this climate. Things were much worse for the folks down on Vieques. Many went without power for over a month.
The electricity often comes back quickly in Florida and the Guard is on scene before the winds even hit. That probably won’t be the case for Vieques. When the Navy left back in 2003 a lot of post-storm infrastructure left with it. Getting aid to the island may be a little slower the next time but as part of a U.S. territory, Vieques will still fare much better than places like Cuba and Haiti. Fortunately, the island hasn’t been tested during its past half decade without the military and I hope it won’t be anytime soon.
With all of these considerations, a lot of people simply don’t travel to the Caribbean this time of year. September is officially the dead season on Vieques and a lot of tourist based businesses, including my own, close up shop until winter. The good news is that the bars and restaurants that do stay open are never crowded and many guesthouses lower their rates. For the few anglers that do visit, Captains Franco and J’s schedules are wide open and they’ll be eager to go fishing.
Perhaps the most ironic thing about Hurricane Season on Vieques is the weather, which is usually wonderful. The winds, which seem to constantly be howling when I’m down there guiding fly fishermen in the winter and spring, are often just a gentle breeze this time of year. The flats become glassy calm and you can spot huge schools bonefish tailing from a quarter mile away. It’s fly fishing at its best, but hardly anyone comes down to enjoy it. So now I leave the perfect flats of Vieques in the fall for South Florida, where I’m probably going to get hit by a hurricane. Go figure.
Compared to the States, Vieques has had it very easy for the past several years. Since I moved to the island back in 2005, we’ve never once had to secure our house for an oncoming storm. In fact, the last hurricane to seriously affect Puerto Rico was Georges back in 1998. This same storm would later bull’s-eye Key West while I was living there, smashing a boat I was building at the time and leaving me flat broke for months. After that, I never went to another hurricane party. There’s really nothing fun about these storms.
In the Keys we had an escape route with US-1, the famous Overseas Highway. It gets plenty of use during Hurricane Season as Monroe County evacuates at the drop of a hat. Most of the time these evacuations are controversial false alarms. I tended to stay put during the storms. I feared getting caught in a traffic jam on the Seven Mile Bridge when the winds hit more than anything that could happen by staying.
But Vieques doesn’t have the luxury of a bridge to anywhere. We have to depend on a sometimes reliable government run ferry to get us off the island, which is one of the reasons that we now move Stateside during the season. If I have to be caught in another tropical storm or hurricane, and I’ve been through several, I want it to happen up here.
Our physical safety isn’t what I worry about. Our house on Vieques, like almost everyone else’s, is solid block construction. It has a flat, poured cement roof and sits 90 feet above sea level. It’s not going anywhere no matter how strong the storm and my Jeep and flats boat fit inside the carport, well out of harm‘s way. What I do worry about is the aftermath.
When Hurricane Georges hit us in the Keys, I went without power for five days, which wasn‘t such a big deal. I had friends who didn’t have electricity for two weeks. When the power finally came back on there were mosquitoes hatching from my carpet and I was trading my beer to the National Guardsmen for the MREs they didn‘t want. I learned to love freeze-dried chicken loaf for a few days that month. October is no time to be without electricity in this climate. Things were much worse for the folks down on Vieques. Many went without power for over a month.
The electricity often comes back quickly in Florida and the Guard is on scene before the winds even hit. That probably won’t be the case for Vieques. When the Navy left back in 2003 a lot of post-storm infrastructure left with it. Getting aid to the island may be a little slower the next time but as part of a U.S. territory, Vieques will still fare much better than places like Cuba and Haiti. Fortunately, the island hasn’t been tested during its past half decade without the military and I hope it won’t be anytime soon.
With all of these considerations, a lot of people simply don’t travel to the Caribbean this time of year. September is officially the dead season on Vieques and a lot of tourist based businesses, including my own, close up shop until winter. The good news is that the bars and restaurants that do stay open are never crowded and many guesthouses lower their rates. For the few anglers that do visit, Captains Franco and J’s schedules are wide open and they’ll be eager to go fishing.
Perhaps the most ironic thing about Hurricane Season on Vieques is the weather, which is usually wonderful. The winds, which seem to constantly be howling when I’m down there guiding fly fishermen in the winter and spring, are often just a gentle breeze this time of year. The flats become glassy calm and you can spot huge schools bonefish tailing from a quarter mile away. It’s fly fishing at its best, but hardly anyone comes down to enjoy it. So now I leave the perfect flats of Vieques in the fall for South Florida, where I’m probably going to get hit by a hurricane. Go figure.
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