VIEQUES, Puerto Rico
- It's close, it's gorgeous, and there's hardly anybody here.
This is the Caribbean of days long gone: Fishing boats bobbing in the
sweet curve of a bay. Breezy bars where shoes are optional and a 10-spot
will buy a beer and a fish sandwich. A sandy drive leading to a beach
without another soul on it.
This is Vieques, as it was and is and will be -- at least for the
next few years.
If you've heard of this 55-square-mile island off Puerto Rico's main
island, your impressions are likely linked to the Navy's controversial
use of the island as a training site and bombing range. That's all in
the past. February saw the last of the bombings; on May 1, the Navy
officially pulled out, leaving the 9,000 residents on their own.
Whatever ill the Navy may have wrought over the past 60 years -- and
even a visitor hears plenty of debate on both sides of that
subject -- the result is that nearly two-thirds of the island is largely
undeveloped.
Most of that hilly land is now wildlife refuge -- at least for the
moment -- which means untrammeled crescents of sand rimming aquamarine
coves, a sheltered bioluminescent bay and reefs brimming with fish
within kayaking distance from the beach. The roads are good, the
restaurants are surprisingly sophisticated. Hotels -- from Architectural
Digest chic to funky little guesthouses -- are small and amazingly
reasonable. (Think summer rates of $125-$150 and up at a deluxe boutique
hotel, $50-$65 at a guesthouse) Most come minus TV and phone -- on
purpose.
LAZY DAYS
Days go like this: ''You get up in the morning, get in your Jeep and
take off down one of the roads to a beach that has absolutely no one on
it,'' explains Scott Chappell, a New York-New Jersey graphic designer on
his third visit with his wife, fashion designer Katie Morita.
``You plant your cooler and two chairs. At lunch, you go to Bananas
for fish sandwiches. About 3, we go back to Blue Horizon -- [their
favorite lodging] -- and have a drink. We take a shower, watch the
sunset and have dinner. We like to be completely quiet.''
That same laid-back air is what has kept George and Elissa Hirschhorn
of Philadelphia coming back every year for nearly a decade. And it's
what drew Glenn and Wynne Curry to buy Bananas, a funky bar/restaurant
and guesthouse on the Malecón in Esperanza, and move here from
Philadelphia.
''For all the publicity Vieques has gotten about the Navy, it's a
pretty, safe, welcoming place,'' says Glenn, a native of Key West.
``It's so much like Key West when I was growing up -- not like Key West
now.
''There are a lot of things it doesn't have to offer. That's one of
the things we like best about it.'' No stoplights, little night life, no
casinos -- though one will open this fall.
This is, instead, the kind of place where a piña colada leads to a
shot of tequila -- especially if you hang out at Al's Mar Azul when Al
is there. (Al likes to treat newcomers to a round of shots.) Where your
bartender one night is likely your masseuse the next afternoon, and your
hotelier is a refugee from the rat race of Manhattan or San Juan. And
where you need to watch your driving, lest you careen into a cow or
horse wandering along the road, or a local out exercising his horse in
the heart of downtown.
For tourists, the epicenter -- if you can call it that -- is
Esperanza, a fishing village with a small row of restaurants and shops
facing the pretty Malecón. This isn't the picturesque village of
European fantasies -- the houses sit porch by porch, the graceless
concrete boxes cheered by trims in green, pink, bright blue. But it's
friendly, and on weekends locals open up pizza stands, barbecues and a
shack-cum-bar on the waterfront. Visitors are welcome, but most seem to
stick with the permanent restaurants or the souvenir shop. There's only
one.
GREEN STORE
Nearly everything on this south side of the island is defined by its
proximity to the no-name stop commonly referred to as ''the green
store'' -- the only store in the neighborhood, and yes, it's green. Sun
Bay, a park with spectacular public beaches, is up the road from the
green store. Tito Bloque, which makes tasty pastelitos filled
with lobster or crab or kingfish, is down the road and around the corner
from the green store. PeeWees, one of the few night spots, is just a few
doors from the green store. And if you need anything from sunblock to
baby formula, you go to . . . the green store.
On the north coast lies the capital, Isabel II, population 2,000,
seat of government offices, the ferry dock -- boats go to Fajardo on the
big island, and the small isle of Culebra -- a shopping district and the
island's only ATM machine. The crowded cemetery and some of the
buildings retain a hint of 19th century grace.
The lighthouse and 150-year-old fort are now museums recalling the
island's sugar-plantation past. Displays highlight Vieques'
archaeological importance -- the 4,000-year-old Puerto Ferro man, was
found here -- and pay tribute to the 1816 visit of liberator Simon
Bolivar, his only Puerto Rican stop. But few exhibits are translated
into English.
The real point of coming here, though, is just to hang out.
The 15,500-acre tract released by the Navy on May 1 is home to two of
the island's best beaches, known in Navy lingo as Red Beach and Blue
Beach. Previously open to visitors, both were closed in 1999 after a
Navy pilot veered off course and dropped a bomb on an observation tower,
killing a civilian guard. With the Navy gone, the beaches are open once
again.
Red Beach is a postcard in 3-D, a wide arc of sand trimmed with
coconut palms and picnic tables under shade. Blue is longer, narrower,
with pull-ins so you can drive your 4X4 over the dirt road through the
thorny mesquite right to the end of the sand. Keep your shoes on; the
sand burrs are wicked.
MILITARY PAST
The entrance to these recently released acres is one of the few
places you'll see reminders of the military past. Banners witness
anti-military sentiment. A series of crosses recall locals who,
activists say, died because of the military presence -- though many were
deaths from cancer and other diseases that, some argue, had nothing to
do with the military. (Activists contend the illnesses were caused by
contaminants.) And because of an unexpectedly violent protest May 1 when
$1 million in military property was destroyed, a horde of Kevlar-vested
police crowded near the entrance of this new wildlife refuge during a
recent visit.
Inside the refuge are a few more buildings harking from the Navy,
also guarded. The square mile at the eastern tip of Vieques is
completely off limits -- this was the former bombing range -- as are
other areas that might hold live ordnance. But the land is so thick with
mesquite that only a masochist would try to cross it.
The other military remnants are a long pier where naval vessels once
moored (now a great place to catch sight of sea turtles), a few
buildings and old ammunitions bunkers, all in the western part of the
island that the Navy gave up two years ago. Here, too, is Green Beach,
another long expanse of pristine coast.
Some would argue that the best beaches, though, have been open all
along.
Sun Bay is the big one, a half-moon of white and palms with decent
snorkeling near the ends. The rutted road leads on to Media Luna -- a
favorite with Viequenses -- and Navio, a small sugary cove where the
Hirschhorns come each day near sunset to end the day.
Navio is the beach of choice for Chappell and Morita, the New
Yorkers. And on a recent weekend, it seemed to please Grammy-winner
Alicia Keys and her video crew as well.
The same dirt road leads to Bio Bay, one of the best-preserved
bioluminescent bays in this part of the world. Most nights, Mark Martin
Bras, a local conservationist, leads tours aboard a slow-moving pontoon
boat, explaining as he goes how the shape of the bay and its fertile,
unpolluted nature keep it rich in the one-celled organisms that, when
agitated, give off a brilliant yellow glow.
Comets of light flash just below the surface -- fish darting past.
When you dip into the water for a night-time swim, you see Day-Glo
marbles of light roll off your arms.
A small bottle of water can hold 40,000 glimmer creatures -- the
fireflies of the water world.
FUTURE DIRECTION
For Vieques, the years ahead are uncertain times. Everyone who lives
there -- and plenty who don't -- has a vision for things to come.
Some want the island to remain much as it is. Some urge a low-key
future of sustainable development that will soften life for the 9,000
islanders, whose standard of living lags 20 percent behind those who
live on the main island, said Juan Fernandez, commissioner of Vieques,
during a recent interview in his San Juan office. There are those who
favor ecotourism, some who favor a split with the U.S. and press for
tours that underscore U.S. military shortcomings in the region.
Though most of the former Navy lands are now wildlife refuges, the
legislation designating them so leaves room for change. And that makes
some locals worry that developers will gain control of now-pristine
lands, turning the island into a ghetto of cookie-cutter souvenir shops
and pricey, large-scale resort hotels.
''People here are very conscious of the dangers of this moment,''
said Robert Rabin, director of the historical museum at Fort Conde de
Mirasol in Isabel II during an interview in his office. Rabin, an
academic who moved here from Boston 20 years ago, helped lead the
anti-Navy protests. With Fernandez, he is a member of a group that has
produced a 300-page study on sustainable development on the island.
``Nobody wants the Navy out and the Hiltons in.''
Already, the changes are starting.
This winter brought the opening of Wyndham's Martineau Bay, a gated,
164-room upscale resort on one of the few private beachfront tracts. The
place has a breezy, plantation feel about it, with low-rise villas
scattered about the hillsides and decor -- hard woods, light colors,
marble baths -- that promises romantic comfort. The resort offers the
island's first spa and, come November, a small, European-style casino.
At the exquisite 10-room Inn on Blue Horizon, owner James Weis, who
moved here from New York a decade ago and built Vieques' first upscale
lodging, is adding 14 private villas on his 20 acres near Esperanza. The
three-bedroom villas will start at more than $500,000 and will be rented
to hotel guests when owners are absent.
''I'm doing more of what I've been doing,'' he said. The villas are
slated to open in fall 2004.
Tourism is on the rise, says local hoteliers, and so are land prices
-- up about 10 percent in the last year, said Eli Belendez, a partner in
the Crows Nest inn and Crows Nest Realty.
''There are a lot more [visitors] here than any other May that I've
known,'' he said one recent morning.
Rumors are swirling about big hotel chains looking to make deals with
local authorities regarding lands they now control, say several
hoteliers. But between dealmaking, permitting and construction, any
significant new projects are likely five to 10 years away.
For the moment, Vieques promises to be much as it was when Judy
Leach, a retail manager in Bethlehem, Pa., moved here six years ago. To
make ends meet, Leach works as bartender, masseuse and now, as editor of
Vieques Events, a monthly magazine she started just over a year ago.
''The services are changing,'' she said over breakfast at the Trade
Winds, overlooking the Malecón in Esperanza. She points to Chef
Michael's, a gourmet food shop opened a year ago, and the increased
availability islandwide of fresh flowers and foods. ``But the clientele
-- it hasn't changed.''
For now, at least, Vieques is that rarity, an homage to the best of
the past. And that, says Ben Tutt, general manager at Wyndham's
Martineau Bay, is exactly what guests want.
``The new hotel might be the reason they come here, but they'll come
back because of the island.''
