Vieques: The Redheaded Stepchild of a Redheaded Stepchild

by Kahlil Johnson (United States of America)

A leap into the unknown Puerto Rico

There are places in the world that words can fail to describe and photos cannot do justice. Places with such warm, welcoming communities, and yet, beyond the human grasp, untouched, natural beauty and unexplored mystique that draws visitors from far and wide. One such place is the island of Vieques. Vieques is a small island - about 20 miles long by 5 miles wide - that is eight miles off the easternmost coast of Puerto Rico. Census data has not been officially updated since 2010, but the US Census Bureau estimates the population at around 8,300 residents(1). My first trip to Vieques in May of 2018 was a case of the blind leading the blind. Puerto Rico was not even a year removed from the intense destruction of Hurricane Maria, which claimed the lives of over 3,000 people. We had no idea how to navigate a brand new place that had been recently ravaged by a massive hurricane. Our path seemed simple enough: take a publico (taxi van) from the airport in San Juan to the port in Fajardo, then take the ferry to Vieques. The drive to Fajardo was a surreal mix of breathtaking beauty, disheartening destruction, and inspiring resilience. When I looked out the passenger side window, lush, jungle-lined mountains filled my view as far as I could see. Conversely, through the driver side window, I saw large chunks missing from buildings and blue tarps covered hundreds of roofs that were still in need of repair. The farther we got from the tourism hub of San Juan, the more apparent it became that the rest of Puerto Rico was on a long, arduous road to full recovery. Upon reaching the ferry port, very few directions were given as to how to reach the next destination. There was a small desk where we paid for our $2 tickets, a makeshift security line made of particle board banquet tables like you would see at a backyard barbecue, and two large tents covering about 50 plastic folding chairs forming a waiting area. After a wait of about 45 minutes for the notoriously off-schedule boat, we boarded what we later found out was the cargo ferry. Rough waters and creaks from the old vessel made the 30 minute trip to Vieques feel like a lifetime. Once we reached our new home for the week, cars and trucks filed off the rear gate and flooded the street as pedestrians looked for their rides in a mad dash to get home. We found another publico, filled with locals and tourists alike, that took us through the barrios and down winding, dimly lit roads until we reached our guesthouse and could finally relax for the night. Vieques during the daytime was a paradise unlike anything I had ever experienced. The island has dozens of gorgeous, tranquil beaches to choose from, most of which are sparsely populated, making any day a relaxing getaway. Vieques is also the only place I have ever been where there are horses roaming the streets and fields. Caballeros, or modern cowboys, own and raise horses and use them for transportation all over the island. For a new experience on one of our last nights on Vieques, we decided to take a Bioluminescent Bay tour with local entrepreneur, Abe. We kayaked pitch black waters as Abe taught us the science of the bay and the blue lights that emerge whenever the water is disturbed. The next day, while waiting for our ferry back to the main island, we happened to meet Abe again. He told us the struggles of the island’s recovery after the hurricane and told us that, in terms of government care and aid, Puerto Rico is America’s “redheaded stepchild” and that Vieques has the same relationship with Puerto Rico: the redheaded stepchild of a redheaded stepchild. Two years later, the island has still not fully recovered, but is well on its way. Businesses and beaches that were closed due to hurricane damage are back up and running; new restaurants and stores are popping up all over. Vieques is, and will remain, a paradise.