HAPPY ISLAND AND THE MONSTER IN THE SHALLOWS
We’ve been trying our best to plan more “family adventure days” as our time lingers on in the US Virgin Islands. Everyone starts to get a little restless spending so much time on the boat, and not really going anywhere. At the time of this post, we’re still waiting on an engine rebuild to be completed. We’ve been all over St Thomas, most of St John, and Great St James, where we’re moored in Christmas Cove, is privately owned, and off limits.
A little island off the south eastern shore of St Thomas was suggested to us by our friend, Kevin, as an adventure destination. It's legal name is Cas Cay, and it's local name is Happy Island. Who doesn’t want to visit Happy Island?
Cas Cay is an uninhabited, undeveloped island that is approximately 50 acres, and is nestled in one of the largest mangrove lagoons in the Virgin Islands. We were familiar with its location, as we’d ridden past in the dinghy many times when going into Benner Bay to visit Food Center for groceries, or Budget Marine for parts. It was only about 2 miles away, and a 15-minute ride.
I did a little research online (on our whack internet connection) and reviewed some details about the island. According to reviews, there was a convenient access point on the north west side to tie off a dinghy in the shallows. From there, we could access the hiking trail, or snorkel the lagoon. The lagoon was often home to juvenile nurse sharks, along with other marine life. I also found pictures of what looked like a shaded area that would make for a nice lunch spot.
I gathered up the troops, and made my suggestion to visit Happy Island the next day. Everyone was excited to explore the trail, rocks, whirlpool, blowhole, and snorkeling that I described. We prepped all our gear that night (we like to pack heavy) and Lisa planned out our lunch.
The next morning, we piled in the dinghy, and set off. It was a pretty breezy day, but we had the wind and swell at our backs on the way over. This mad for a relatively quick, dry ride over.
As we rounded the northwest point, we saw a couple of other dinghies tied off in sandy spots at the water’s edge. We found our own little spot, motored up, and jumped out to tie off in calf deep, crystal clear water. Once tied off, we grabbed what we wanted to bring on the hike, and followed the trail in. Just to the left of the trail was the shaded picnic area, which looked perfect for when we returned for lunch.
As we continued along the trail, we saw the typical Marine Reserve sign (same as Christmas Cove). A few feet further, we saw a handmade sign that read: Cas Cay Wildlife Sanctuary, A Gift From David Vialet, 1987. A little further research revealed that Mr. Vialet owned the island, and donated it as a marine and wildlife sanctuary. According to the documentation I found, if at anytime, the sanctuary status was lifted, the land would immediately go back to Mr. Vialet’s children.
We continued down the trail, and eventually came to a clearing that offered a nice view of the reef off the western shore. It was pretty amazing, and appeared to be made up of broken coral pieces. Further down the trail, we were able to walk out on to the obliterated coral reef. What an amazing view! After grabbing some pictures and video, and exploring the reef a bit, we hopped back on the trail and continued on.
A few hundred yards past an abandoned boat hull on shore, we found the “whirlpool” and “blowhole”. This was a really interesting place to explore, with all sorts of different rock formations, interesting rocks, and climbing for Lauren. There was also a really neat, framed view of Christmas Cove. We spent a good deal of time here, until we realized we weren’t at the end of the trail.
From here, the trail led either across the island, to the Jersey Bay (not the same as the Jersey Shore) side, or up to the 100-foot peak. We elected to walk to the north side, and save the hill for last.
From the north side, we had a great view of Jersey Bay, Benner Bay, Compass Point, and part of the mangrove lagoon. We took the trail as far east as we could, which was only about 50 yards, and then headed back to the hill.
As we headed up the hill, we had a really good vantage point of the low lying west end of Happy Island, and the mangrove lagoon. I hadn’t realized, until this point, how big the lagoon sanctuary really was.
Further up, we found the peak, and had a spectacular 360-degree view. From here, we could see Great St. James, Little St. James, and French Cap. The breeze was nice and cool up here, and we took in as much as we could before heading back down for lunch.
A few minutes later, we arrived at our lunch spot. This shaded area consisted of two long benches, and sail shades hung between posts. It was nice and cool. We looked around for the hermit crabs we heard about, and saw about twenty of them closer to shore in the bushes.
We took out our sandwiches, and then watched in amazement as hundreds of hermit crabs began to emerge from the bushes. I literally had to watch where I was stepping as I captured some video of this little army. Within minutes they filled the area, all looking for scraps of food. Lisa and Alyssa tossed some small pieces of bread to them, causing multiple crab fights. They continued marching, crawling over Lauren’s and my feet, looking for lunch.
Once we finished up, and the crowd of crabs dissipated, we headed to the dinghy to grab our snorkel gear. We all geared up, and plopped in the water. It was a bit murkier than I had anticipated in the deeper area, but the shallows were very clear, and full of tiny baitfish. There were thousands of them lining the mangrove roots, and seemed to go on and on and on as we snorkeled down the south bank. I figured if these little guys felt safe, we were safe too.
We finally got to the end of all the baitfish, and the terrain opened up to a little deeper area. As we continued, my eye caught what appeared to be a juvenile barracuda. Sure enough, it was a little silver guy, probably about 18 inches in length. As I began to video him, I noticed a sunk boat hull in the distance. I thought that would make a really neat spot to explore.
The next thing I saw, was a large, dark gray silhouette headed towards us. I could tell by it’s shape and the shadow it laid on the sea floor that it was big. My thoughts at this point went something like this:
“Sweet! An adult nurse shark! The girls are going to love this!”
“Why does it have white on it’s nose, it must be scared up.”
“This thing seems too skinny to be a nurse shark.”
“Those aren’t scars, those are teeth!”
“Holy cannoli! That’s a barracuda!”
So here I was, leading my family into the jaws of death. Or at least dismemberment. This fish was at least 5 feet long, and looked as crazy as one could get. For about a second, I considered continuing toward it, as it swam toward us, to get some better footage. In that second’s time, multiple videos of barracudas attacking cameras flashed through my head. Then I considered the stories of medical care on St Thomas I’ve read about. Time to go!
I did my best to motion calmly to everyone to head back towards the dinghy, without alarming anyone. I wasn’t quite sure how everyone would react, as we’re all aware of how unpredictable barracuda can be.
As I motioned to Alyssa and Lauren, the fish turned, showing its profile, and began to track us. I didn’t realize until later that Alyssa had also seen this monster, and verified that I wasn’t imagining it’s size.
It generally takes a bit to get me riled up. The quickest way, is if my wife and kids are in imminent danger. I didn’t like it, even a little bit, that this thing was continuing to parallel us in the darkening water. Add to that, that trying to get all three girls to head in one direction in the water is like herding a small band of cats, and my blood pressure was starting to rise a bit.
I did my best to keep the GoPro pointed in the direction of the beast, while continuing to watch my family, and make sure they were moving on. If it decided to get frisky, I at least wanted some video documentation. Unless he ate the camera along with my hand.
At one point, out of the corner of my mask, I saw Lisa swimming RIGHT TOWARDS IT. “Hey!” I yelled through my snorkel, and motioned for Lisa to continue on. Then comes Lauren on my left from behind me. I’m totally failing at staying between the threat and my family.
A minute or two later, I finally settled down. I was still certain that it was time to leave, but I didn’t have the feeling that we were being stalked. As we continued, the girls spotted a Cassiopea, or upside-down jellyfish. Now we’re dealing with animals that disguise themselves as plants! What the heya! Seriously though, it was really neat looking.
As we approached the area where the dinghy was tied off, we ran into yet another juvenile barracuda, about the same size as the first. Yep! Time to get out! We piled in the dinghy, started her up, and made our way across Jersey Bay and on to Christmas Cove to safety. I have no doubt that the monstrous barracuda was hot on our trail, just waiting for one of us to fall overboard as we fought the wind and swells!
We made it back to the boat without incident and immediately put the SD card in the laptop to review the footage. While the video doesn’t seem to do the beast justice, it will be a memory (and highly exaggerated story) that will last for generations.
