Just Another Day in Paradise
I’m sitting in a hotel room in St. Maarten, nine days into our honeymoon. It’s pouring rain, with thunder and lightning, and I’m in my Detroit Lions shirt, hoping to catch the game somewhere as the storm is supposed to last all day.
The rain has been relentless on this trip, and it’s hard not to feel that it's meant to be. It almost feels like I shouldn't fully enjoy this escape while so many are still struggling back home. There's that lingering survivor’s guilt again. But I also sense that maybe this rain—and this time away—are part of my journey, helping me cope with the aftermath of the hurricane.
We spent the first seven days in Virgin Gorda at the Guavaberry Spring Bay Resort, an extraordinary place run by the same family for generations. We had an unforgettable experience there, meeting guests from all over the world, many of whom had been returning for decades. Charlie and I joked that we’d be back in our 70s, telling newcomers we’d been coming for 30 years just like those people told us.
These folks have it figured out! The resort is a gem—secluded, with a private beach just steps away, and a small commissary stocked with essentials from frozen local meals (chicken roti and shepherd’s pie!) to super affordable drinks.
We stayed in a little round cabin without air conditioning, which seemed fine at first with its open windows and ceiling fans. But the second night, a fierce storm rolled in. Wind howled, and rain flooded our room. By 3 AM, we were mopping up water with bath towels, trying to dry all the items we had on the counters. We didn’t sleep much after that.
We chose this place because it’s known for bouldering. Climbing was my main sport for many, many years. If fact, it’s one of the things that drew to me Asheville 26 years ago. When I first moved to Asheville my second job was working at ClimbMax on Wall Street. My first job was building ropes courses. I would be sent on a job somewhere in the Southeast and make enough money to pay my bills, and then go climb until the money ran out. It was a part of my life for so long but I fell out of practice many years ago due to an injury. Charlie was also a climber in a past life so we booked our trip and we decided to use it as the catalyst for both of us to get back into it.
We had recently bought a membership to Cultivated Climbing on Amboy Road across from the French Broad River. We were actively climbing and getting in shape for our trip and I had planned to take him out to one of my favorite outdoor bouldering spots, Rumbling Bald in Lake Lure before we left to get used to climbing outside again.
Climbing has brought me so much joy throughout my life. You know what I love about it? When I’m climbing, I think of nothing else but my next move. Do you have something in your life like that—where you’re completely focused on the moment, without any distractions? If so, I’d love to hear about it. I cherish those moments, especially because so many of us are constantly preoccupied with what's next, even when we're in the present. I could use more experiences like climbing, so please share what that is for you—it might offer me the same peace, or perhaps help someone else reading this.
I was so excited to get back into climbing and I was surprised to find out that I was better than I thought I would be. I was just four weeks into training again when the storm wiped out Cultivated Climbing Gym and any access to Rumbling Bald Boulders.
It turns out most of the boulder problems were too difficult for both of us. Were we discouraged? Yes. But it didn’t matter. We were in a beautiful place, and as we’ve learned over the last 40 days, it’s important to not be too hard on yourself, now or ever.
Artwork By Elijah Jambalaya
Sleep was elusive for most of our stay in Virgin Gorda. The storms came at night, keeping us up as we rushed to close windows. And the full moon was so bright that if we didn’t get the blinds just right, it would wake us up. I also suffer from cervical spinal stenosis, which causes my limbs to go numb if I sleep in the wrong position, so I had to sleep propped up—which wasn’t comfortable. But last night, in Sint Maarten, we finally had air conditioning, and we both slept like rocks.
Despite the challenges, Virgin Gorda was full of warmth. The people were incredibly kind. We fell in love with a little lunch shack called Mad Dog, owned by this sweet man named Jude. He makes the best Painkillers and conch fritters. He used to be a computer technician but he prefers this life. We had numerous talks about life, work, and about serving others.
Telling people we were from Asheville was...I don’t know how to describe it, a thing. It was hard because we had to relive it every time but it also felt important. It felt like if there's one thing we could do, it was tell people how strong our community is and we could tell people not to forget about us.
Many on the island understand; they endured hurricane Irma’s devastation in 2017. One night, I started reading the resort’s account of that storm and became emotional, but Charlie reminded me that I needed a break from it.
As for the rain, it’s forcing me to face a lingering fear of water—a fear that feels a little more intense after what we’ve been through. But here we are, and I’m learning to embrace it.
I also have to admit that I worked during the first six days of our trip—hard to shut off, and feeling behind on projects back home. But after three work calls and numerous emails, my computer finally giving out—likely due to the humidity and salt in the air—I took it as a sign to step back. Now, I'm just letting it go, accepting that sometimes the universe tells us when it’s time to pause.
Now we’re at the Divi Little Bay Resort, which feels like a cruise ship on land—an all-inclusive, sprawling place with pools, bars, and restaurants. It’s a complete contrast to the secluded resort we just left, but it's only for a few days before we head to a luxurious spot in Anguilla. After that, we return to St. Martin (the French side) to meet up with some friends from Asheville, and that’s what I’m most looking forward to.
For now, I’m off to find the Lions game at one of the many bars around here. You can take the girl out of Detroit, but you can’t take Detroit out of the girl.