I met Danny Moroney a few years ago at the Annapolis Boat Show when he was hanging out at the booth next to SAIL’s. He’s a kind young man with gentle confidence and a true passion for the work Hope Fleet was doing. It was still early days for the organization, but the idea of deputizing the cruising fleet in order to bring necessary supplies to Caribbean islands was already well formed in his mind. While catching up with him for this issue’s feature, it brought me back to my own first time in the Caribbean.
When I arrived at Saint Martin’s Princess Juliana airport, it was still a massive drywall box that smelled like paint. There were two customs agents and one passport stamp. It was barely a year after Hurricane Maria had leveled the island.
During the visit, a representative from the tourism board drove a few of us journalists around the island in a van, to both the Dutch and French sides. From Fort St. Louis—atop a towering hill on the northwest coast—I remember looking down into the neighboring city of Marigot, which had been a bustling modern ruin with busy markets carrying on as usual even as blue tarps snapped in the breeze, still the only roof that some of the buildings had. Out on the water, masts and hulls of sunken boats stuck out at odd angles, signs of a graveyard just below the surface. Island residents told me stories of crouching in their bathrooms as their windows shattered from the pressure differential and the rain poured into their homes.
Saint Martin is a particularly interesting study in recovery. Despite inhabiting an island less than 10 miles across, the two halves have two different governments, with the French side (Saint Martin) being an Overseas Collectivity of France, while the Dutch side (Sint Maarten) is an independent nation. The French side received more off-island support in the aftermath, and the Dutch side, having an economy based almost entirely on tourism, in some cases had to rebuild the infrastructure for outsiders before they could rebuild their own neighborhoods. As a result, the French side “bounced back” from a tourism perspective much slower, and while they had relief funds coming in, they also had more regulations on how it needed to be spent and what rebuilding would look like.
After our drive, there was something incredibly surreal about returning to the race village and seeing the sailors take over Simpson Bay with their Sperrys and Maui Jims. Their visits were funding the island’s recovery, but it was hard to imagine building a main stage for the after party’s Jacksons concert when your neighbor doesn’t even have a roof on their house yet. It was difficult to stomach.
The truth is the boating community has a complicated relationship with the islands. There is so much love for these beautiful locales and the warm communities that have opened their arms to so many of us over the years. But when that relationship is contingent upon the island staying beautiful and tourists staying the priority, the balance shifts and sours.
That’s part of why Danny’s work is so important. It’s an opportunity for boaters to give back and show up for the folks that have welcomed so many of us; it’s a way to use our skills and resources to do some good. And because it starts with local community leaders and their specific needs, there’s no waste or unnecessary overhead. It’s just everyday people using their voyages to make an impact.
So if you’re Caribbean-bound this year, consider joining Hope Fleet and the 150 other boats that Danny and his team have organized to deliver supplies to schools, children’s homes, and communities in need. It makes a meaningful impact, and we owe so much to the people who make visits to their island homes possible.
—Lydia
P.S. After my visit to Saint Martin, a poet friend lent me Jamaica Kincaid’s 1988 book A Small Place. The essay is a powerful and at times uncomfortable cultural history of the author’s childhood home of Antigua, exploring the relationship between the people who live there and those who come to the island. She writes beautifully and intensely, and I highly recommend it if you’re interested diving below the surface.
To connect and share feedback, story ideas, or questions, email lydia.mullan@firecrown.com.
