“Fortunately, I built it with the intention it would withstand a hurri-
cane,” he says. He points to the concrete blocks that elevate the house
several feet off the ground, tied to a concrete foundation of equal
depth. Although the Codrington Lagoon is not visible through the
trees, Mussington lives less than 1,000 feet away from its eastern
shoreline. “During the height of the storm, just after the eye passed,
when I came out on my verandah I was totally surrounded by sea-
water,” he recalls. “About six inches higher, it would have been flowing
through the house.” While the water there drained quickly once the
storm lifted, most of the other homes in proximity of the shallow, 7-
mile-long lagoon had already been devastated.
Leaving Mussington’s house, we head south for a few miles. Then he
instructs me to turn off the main road onto a narrow, increasingly sandy
track bordered by low, desert scrub. As the track finally becomes impass-
able, we begin to hike toward Palmetto Point. Here, for centuries, massive
sand dunes as high as 50 feet loomed just inland from the Caribbean.
They served as nature’s protective barrier against saltwater intrusion into
the freshwater aquifer. They enabled beans, peas, watermelon, and corn
to flourish in farmer’s fields. While Mussington is telling me this, I search
the horizon in vain for any semblance of a sand dune.
He explains: “They began mining the sand in the mid-1970s. Local
politicians. It became a multimillion-dollar industry. The sand was
exported to Antigua, as far as Puerto Rico, the Virgin Islands, even
down to St. Lucia. It’s used in construction and things like that.
Everything has basically been taken out. So this flatland you’re seeing
is actually sitting on the water table right now. During the last hurri-
cane, Lenny, there were still some ridges that the storm surge would
encounter. Not anymore. So the danger that’s facing this area is in the
event of another hurricane or severe storm. If you get, say, a 10 to 15
foot surge, it’s going to reach the narrow connection between Palmetto
Point and the lagoon, which is only 200 meters [650 feet] wide. Once
the saltwater floods into that area, out goes the agriculture.”
Returning to the vehicle, we turn around and take another branch
road until it, too, reaches a virtual dead-end at a small hill. From here is
the best view of Palmetto Point, and a 14-mile swath of white sand beach
that is touted as one of the most pristine such stretches left on the
72 Dick Russell