In Virgin Islands, resolve blends with worry of being forgotten
Sharon Coldren, standing on the balcony of the Coral Bay Community Council building, raised a megaphone to give a warning to about 100 of her fellow islanders.
“There are tropical storms on the way that could become hurricanes,” she said to a crowd gathered Saturday outside the town hall. Evacuate, she said. Their last chance to leave their island of St. John would probably be a free ferry the next day to San Juan, Puerto Rico.
Even the military deployed to aid disaster relief left St. John before the storm to avoid being stranded. The entire island largely remained without power, running water and phone service. Gasoline was rationed by the National Park Service.
“We don’t know what kind of help we’re getting from the government,” Coldren said after the meeting and acknowledged that many islanders wouldn’t flee, even the sick and elderly who had lost homes to Hurricane Irma.
Irma killed dozens of people in the Caribbean. Some are still missing, including a captain in Coral Bay who attempted to ride out the storm on his boat.
Yet many here feel their plight was ignored after the storm reached Florida, their experience as Americans forgotten, as if the hurricane here didn’t count.
Among the three Virgin Islands that President Donald Trump plans to visit, St. Croix was largely spared by Irma. Portions of St. Thomas and St. John were devastated. Then came Tropical Storm Jose, which was still dumping rain on the islands Friday.
The smallest of the islands, St. John is just 5 miles wide and 9 miles long, and its 5,000 residents have a reputation for friendliness, which explains the island’s nickname of Love City.
After surviving Irma and living for a week without access to the outside world — including weather reports — many of the 3,000 who remained wondered where they could run that would feel safer than home.
Coldren couldn’t give them any information about the latest marine weather forecasts — emergency managers were not providing them to her, and she didn’t have cellphone or internet access.
“Our tarps are not up. I don’t know who’s going to put them up. I want it done before the storm. But how much more ruined can a ruin get?” she said as residents vied for her attention, asking about weather reports, emergency generators and water pumps.
In the British Virgin Islands, a few miles away, officials had several cellphone networks running, and residents praised the government response. Here, Federal Emergency Management Agency managers were absent, Coldren said, although they had contacted her.
Her home had the roof peeled off. Her boat was destroyed. She’s president of the community council, and there’s too much to do.
Coldren hoped the military withdrawal would not include military police, who had restored order after days of looting after the storm.
A group of looters confronted Coral Bay denizen Elliot Hooper, 64, when he tried to stop them from stealing T-shirts he had saved from the storm at his store, Tall Ship Trading.
Hooper said he brandished a machete and shouted, “I’ve been here 30 years, and you’re going to take my T-shirts?”
Then he stepped on a nail, and also realized there were about 10 men in the group, some probably with guns. So he retreated to his damaged black-and-white schooner, Silver Cloud, built in 1899.
He lost his business and home, neither of which were insured. He felt betrayed by the young men who stole from him. But he would not leave.
“This is my island,” Hooper said.
Captain Karl Pytlik, 42, hiked back across the island after evacuating with his wife and two sons, ages 4 and 2, before Irma. He wanted to check on his pets, home and business.
His house was destroyed. But what really moved him was seeing the snapped masts on Hooper’s vintage sailboat. “I saw Silver Cloud, and I lost it,” he said.