Stranded in Paradise: Storm, Shortages and the Long Road Home After Hurricane Melissa
The buzz of reggae and the smell of salt and sun have been replaced by a different kind of soundtrack in Montego Bay: the rhythmic drip of rainwater, the distant hum of generators, and the low, urgent chatter of guests gathered beneath hotel awnings. For Lisa and Brendan Mooney, what was meant to be a dream 50th birthday escape has been folded into a waiting game — one measured in cancelled flights, dwindling supplies and the tiny, persistent worry that comes when you rely on a medical device far from home.
“We came for beaches and jerk chicken,” Lisa said, speaking through a cracked hotel phone as she sat on the edge of a towel-covered bed, “and now we’re queuing for bottled water like it’s the only thing that matters.” Her voice, at once tired and wry, carries a familiar human timbre: resigned, but not defeated. “They’re rationing pool water for flushing — two hours a night. I’ve had to mop the rain out of the room myself. I’m on an insulin pump. I need proper food and my medications. I need to be home for my kids.”
A storm of a scale not seen in decades
Locals and visitors alike are processing what meteorologists and government officials described as a historic blow. Melissa — which forecasters said was the most powerful storm to directly strike Jamaica in decades — carved a path of topsy-turvy roofs, flooded streets and damaged infrastructure. News outlets compared it to Hurricane Gilbert, the last major system to land-force Jamaica in 1988, and officials warned the island is only at the beginning of the recovery.
“We have never seen something hit like this in our memory,” said Marcia Thompson, a hotelfront desk manager who stayed through the worst of the winds. “People were scared. A lot of my colleagues lost their homes. We’re trying to help guests, but the staff here are hurting too.”
Jamaica’s tourism industry — which, depending on how you count direct and indirect activity, accounts for roughly a third of the island’s economy — now faces a twin crisis: caring for the thousands hurt and displaced, while also dealing with an immediate collapse in visitor infrastructure that sustains livelihoods across the island.
The human side of a travel nightmare
For the Mooneys, the practical obstacles have been relentless. Their holiday has been punctuated by cancelled flights — two already — and a third connection that, as of our conversation, was booked to New York, a gateway that might or might not fly depending on the broader recovery. “We are now booked on one to New York on Tuesday afternoon,” Lisa told me. “We are hoping against hope that it leaves.”
Beyond the logistics lies the emotional toll. The couple are parents of three back in Loughlinstown, Dublin. “I want to get home. I keep thinking about the kids and the routine that keeps our lives together,” Brendan added from his phone, the cracks of intermittent signal making him pause between words. “But I also think about the people here — the taxi drivers, the tour guides who make their lives from this. They need the tourists to return, but they also need time to heal.”
Local shopkeeper Alvin Grant summed it up on a humid, grey morning outside his shuttered storefront. “When the cruise ships stop, everything slows — the market, the eateries, the whole village. We depend on people coming here,” he said. “We’ll rebuild. But it’s hard when the money stops suddenly.”
Consular care, advice — and unequal responses
Back home, the Department of Foreign Affairs was quick to say it was aware of a small number of Irish citizens seeking to leave Jamaica and that consular officers were providing help and advice. The Irish Travel Agents Association urged travellers to monitor local updates, to keep their phones charged and to contact their tour operators for support.
“We’re in contact with Irish nationals in the area and are providing advice on safe travel home,” said a spokesman for the Department. “Our teams are coordinating with airlines where possible, but flight schedules are dependent on local recovery and airport capabilities.”
Not everyone feels the response has matched the need. “England and Canada have put on flights to take their citizens home,” Lisa said. “We feel a bit left on our own.” Whether or not that perception is a reflection of diplomatic choices, it underscores a bitter truth about emergencies: repatriation capacity is unequal, and the politics of evacuation can leave people feeling exposed.
Why storms like Melissa are getting tougher to predict — and more destructive
Experts say Melissa’s ferocity is not an isolated curiosity but part of a broader pattern. “Warmer oceans and shifts in atmospheric patterns are making the strongest storms stronger and sometimes faster,” said Dr. Ana Clarke, a climate researcher at the University of the West Indies. “We’re seeing more intense rainfall and more rapid intensification of tropical cyclones in the tropics. That increases the risk to islands like Jamaica that have limited buffer zones.”
Global climate assessments have found that while the total number of tropical cyclones may not be increasing dramatically, the proportion of the most intense storms — Categories 4 and 5 — has risen in recent decades. For island nations, this means that rare events can become suddenly more perilous.
Small comforts, big questions
Across Jamaica, the response has become a mix of improvisation and resilience. Church halls have turned into shelters. A local bakery in Montego Bay opened early to hand out bread. Volunteer crews from neighbouring parishes drove through mud and detritus to help clear roads.
“We’re doing what we can,” said Reverend Dwight Palmer, who coordinated a local relief point. “We’re offering shelters, meals, and a listening ear. But this is a big storm. The reality is resources will be stretched for weeks.”
For tourists stranded in the aftermath, small acts matter. “A woman from a nearby guesthouse handed me a cup of stew when she heard I had children waiting at home,” Lisa remembered. “It was just kindness. That’s what keeps you going.”
Practical notes for travellers — and a moment to reflect
If you are traveling or planning to, consider these practical steps to reduce risk and stay informed:
- Keep travel insurance up to date and read the emergency evacuation clauses carefully.
- Register with your embassy or foreign office so consular services can reach you quickly.
- Keep essential medications and supplies in carry-on luggage; carry a doctor’s note for devices like insulin pumps.
- Follow local authorities’ instructions and stay tuned to local news and official channels.
But beyond the checklist lies a larger conversation. What does it mean to travel in a warming world? How should governments, airlines and the tourism industry balance the economic lifeline visitors provide with the duty to protect both travellers and the communities they visit?
“We’d all rather be in the sand with a rum punch,” Brendan said, searching for a brighter note. “But when things go wrong, you see what matters: family, safety, and the kindness of strangers. I just want to be home — but I also hope Jamaica gets the help it needs to heal.”
As recovery unfolds, the world will be watching. Not simply because of tourists like the Mooneys, but because islands like Jamaica are early warning systems — a glimpse of how climate shocks can ripple through economies, families and daily life. How we respond now says something about our priorities. It asks us to consider: when travel returns, what kind of resilience should we demand for the places we love to visit?
