Vieques: From Outlaws, to Navymen, Tourists and Now Us

BACK-STORY: We were perusing house-sitting jobs earlier in the year during a short house-sit in New Zealand when we came across the advertisement for this house-sit in Puerto Rico. By then we'd done a number of small house-sits to support our travels and since we had become free of obligations we decided to try the experience of a much longer assignment. We wanted some adventure, to travel but not spend too much money, and to not have to go back to mundane jobs just yet. We looked across the world and in the end were choosing between two house-sits: one in Scotland and one in Puerto Rico. It doesn't take a scientist to work out why we chose PR!

Yet besides the warm weather and exotic beaches there was a deeper reason why we ended up choosing Puerto Rico - and it is probably precisely the reason most people wouldn't choose it.

Ok so Puerto Rico, like most other Central American/Carribean countries is not a wealthy nation. Strip away all the glitzy resorts and it's not that appealing to a lot of people. And it goes without saying we wouldn't be inhabiting that tourist-coloured world; for one, this guy in the advertisement didn't paint the prettiest picture of the assignment. He was adamant it'd be a tough gig, looking after a small 'farm' in an isolated area with limited infrastructure.

This is the house in the middle towards the foreground (Click to enlarge).

Excerpt from a post on my New Zealand blog http://chasnatnz.blogspot.com/ when we were trying to decide on which house-sit to do:

...the owner is doing his best to make it out to be some Survivor-like challenge! He talks about 'survival' and 'perserverence' and 'ingenuity,' and I quote: 

"This house sit is not a picnic by the pool. It will require individuals who are in excellent physical shape, because when we say 10-12 hours work [per week], we mean real hard work. Mowing for hours on some tricky steep hillsides. Fixing equipment and knowing how to use tools. If a vehicle is not working you may need to know what to do to fix it or you will be stranded. The apartment is not very large. If this does not deter you let me know."

It certainly wouldn't be as dependable as Scotland - and this was our defining factor. Dependability was, for us in this case, well...boring. We figured, if you're going to go on an adventure, you might as well make it a real one. I mean, it was grand enough to have it's own house-sitter's apartment. It also had a large orchard of fruit trees, bananas, mangoes, avocadoes etc that would be at our disposal. He even said we could sell some in town to make a little bit of cash. This didn't sound so bad, did it? 

So we took the job.

It turned out the house-sit was actually on a small island off of the mainland called Vieques.

Vieques?

We didn't even know this place existed, that Puerto Rico even had islands of it's own, before finding the house-sit. Without looking into it we could only assume that Vieques, being it's own enclave, would be much like Puerto Rico the mainland, but on a whole different level. What kind of level, that we did not know. So we learnt what we could from the internet.

Vieques has a colourful history and stands out for three prominent reasons, both good and bad:

• Beaches - supposedly some of the best, sandy white, secluded beaches in the Caribbean. Since the navy owned a majority of it till 2003, it hasn't been developed.
• Bombing - the navy used it as a weapons testing ground until they were evicted in 2003. 
• Bioluminescent Bay - one of only a few in the world. The luminescence is caused by micro-organisms (dinoflagellates) which glow whenever the water is disturbed, leaving a trail of neon blue.

We tried to keep an open mind about the place. Most things pointed to how wonderful and exotic the place was but we know that sometimes reality can be a little different. We also made sure to google what dangers there might be and from this we found a contrasting view, nothing real bad, mostly to do with petty theft - don't leave valuables lying around or in your car, for example. I read more than once to not even bother locking your car doors and in fact roll the windows down and leave the glove box open so they can see there's nothing there! This seemed extreme, yet still relatively harmless. Overall it sounded like it was reasonably safe much to my relief, just a very poor island with rampant uneployment. My biggest fear, funnily enough, was not being able to drink the water, like in Mexico, but that was put to rest the minute we arrived in Old San Juan, (though it's usually still filtered for drinking).

It was evident this would not be all sunflowers and roses despite my daydreams of sitting by the beach sipping piña coladas (originally margaritas, but then I found out rum is the national drink). But whilst I knew it was going to be different and perhaps tough (and 6 months is quite a long time), this was something not to pass up. Plus, the lure of unlimited mangoes, avocadoes, bananas, crystal clear beaches, Spanish culture...need I say more?

So lets have a closer look at Vieques:

GEOGRAPHY: Vieques lies about 8 miles (13 km) to the east of the Puerto Rican mainland, and measures approximately 21 miles (34 km) long by 4 miles (6 km) wide. The two main towns of Vieques are Isabel Segunda, the administrative center located on the northern side of the island, and Esperanza, located on the southern side. At peak, the population of Vieques is around 10,000. (Wikipedia)

Along with it's cousin, Culebra, it has been given the label of 'Spanish Virgin Islands' for it proximity to the US and British Virgin Island chains and it's similar physical features.

CLIMATE: Vieques has a warm, relatively dry, tropical to sub-tropical climate. Temperatures usually stay around a balmy average daily maxima of 80°F (26°C) to 89°F (31°C) and rainfall averages around 45 to 55 inches (115 to 140 cm) per year, with the months of May and September–November receiving the most. The rest of the year remains pretty dry. The western part of the island also receives a higher amount of rainfall than the eastern part.

HISTORY: The island's past might reveal a lot about the Viequense identity. For the first 300 years of Spanish settlement Vieques was not colonised, nor was it even formally a part of Spanish Puerto Rico (yet it was safeguarded from any attempts at foreiners to seize it). So for 300 years it behaved as a "lawless outpost, frequented by pirates and outlaws".  It was not formally established until 1843, and finally annexed to Puerto Rico in 1854. So you get the feeling that there must be a sense of detachment and libertinism underpinning the character of this community.  

Vieques prior to the 2001 land transfer

When the Americans procured the territory from the Spanish the Viequenses had built for themselves a nice little industry based on sugarcane. Before the Navy moved in several large mills were in operation and as is typical, these were owned by a handful of powerful families, as was the land in general. The proletariat settled on this land but had no title to it. When the navy appropriated two-thirds of the land by buying out the landowners, the settlers were displaced and angry.

The navy's original purpose for the land was to provide a safe haven for the British fleet and sovereign should it fall to Nazi Germany. A number of bunkers were built for this purpose, although it was never needed as such. After the war, the US Navy continued to use the island for military exercises, and as a firing range and testing ground for bombs, missiles, and other weapons much to the indignation of the Viequense people. After a series of protests, lobbying, and an alleged fatal accident involving a mis-directed missile, the Navy finally left in 2003.

The navy has forever cast a shadow over Vieques, even in it's absense. Not only did it lead to the demise of the sugarcane and agricultural industry but much land is still off-limits, and probably always will be. Under the guise of a "wildlife refuge", this land has been supposedly turned into a sanctum for native birds and animals and cordoned off from the public. While clean-up has become one of the island's biggest employers it is ironically not as high as when the naval base was functioning.

With the navy gone and land opened up to the masses, including a number of idyllic beaches that were previously on navy-land, entreprenuers have seen the potential of this undeveloped gold-mine and Vieques is now being promoted as an ecotourism hotspot, a "sleepy, unspoiled island of rural 'old world' charm and pristine deserted beaches". (Wikipedia) 

It seems the travel industry is climbing all over itself with excitement about the possibilities of exploiting this island. While the wildlife refuge holts any large development of the beaches, the vogue of 'ecotourism' and the need to see "the Caribbean's last secret*" will be the key ingredients for luring customers to a place that is ultimately rather primitive. Words like natural, unaffected, and authentic punctuate tourist brochures and reviews. In real estate jargon they'd call it "a blank canvas", which it really kind of is. The fact is, while most of the islands in the Caribbean are now overcrowded and overdone, this unspoilt island is the last frontier of the Caribbean; a rare find of deserted beaches and untouched coral reefs that doesn't seem possible - and yet, we have the navy to thank for that.

So the media is onboard, but what about the tourists; are people lapping it up? Shermans Travel calls it "the most accessible 'uncharted territory' in the Caribbean". I guess if you want to get away from it all, or be a modern-day explorer, this would be the place to come. But I never was a trail-blazer and it's got me wondering just how far away from it all is it? While "sleepy" and "rural" sound nice in a holiday brochure, I'm not sure how well that suits me for day-to-day living. What civilities does the place have to offer?

To my delight, the media is also singing about new restaurants, bars and hotels sprouting up all over Vieques, from casual beachside eateries to fine-dining establishments. There's also galleries of resident artists and businesses offering tours like kayaking and snorkeling. A peruse of maps.google.com even pinpoints an outdoors store within the modest grid that denotes the little town of Isabel Segunda. That's music to my ears, a little cultivation is all I need to enjoy my stay on this island.

So on the eve of our foray into the unknown I was feeling nervous but optimistic. We had stayed in close contact with Eric, the home-owner, since our initial request and his emails became more promising as they went on. He sent us a video of an exhibition he'd staged of his work as an artist and said the fruit trees and vegetables were coming to maturity despite the drought they'd been having. We will spend a couple of days with Eric, getting to know the ins-and-outs of the property and familiarising ourselves with the island's amenities, before he jets off and we are left to our own devices and with this crazy Caribbean island at our disposal.

But first, we had to get this darn ferry.

All-in-all, good or bad, it will be an adventure of a lifetime.

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*Source: Time Magazine