When Barbuda cautiously reopened to small vessels during the pandemic, we made the three-day sail there from the Grenadines. A year after our first visit, the island was empty, and the remote vastness felt different this time. This storm came as we dropped anchor, its dark clouds moving in like a wall, heavy with the weight of what was to come. We could feel it — thick in the air — making us question our place out here, small and alone against it. There was no avoiding it. The storm was coming, whether we were ready or not.
