The Melancholic Oak Ridge Cay has almost Two centuries of History

Indeed, Oak Ridge Cay is unlike any other place on Roatan. Here, people don’t lock their front doors. It is a sizable cay with around 40 houses and no bridge connecting it to the main island. Most people like it that way. “Here it’s quiet. I have the loveliest neighbors,” says Debra Sellers, one of the cays half a dozen foreign residents.

Most everyone here understands the intricacies of living on a flat, limited space, exposed to the elements. As the sea tide comes up, things get tricky, and people typically don’t mind if someone uses their dock to access their property.

“September tides” are the year’s highest tides, which periodically flood the cay, especially its eastern portion. Once called Curtis Point, this area is now referred to as Mission Point by the locals. “Now, in October and November, you still get the tides,” says Mr. Miguel. The end of the year is when the eastern wind brings in plenty of heavy logs, plastics, and other floating debris, depositing them all over the cay.

Across from the canal, the increasingly busy Pandy Town is intersected by a road frequented by vehicles navigating its dead-end street. Many people from Oak Ridge Cay prefer to keep things quiet and simple. It’s Roatan’s most populated cay, but it doesn’t have a bridge connecting it to the main island. The cay acts as a natural barrier, which has turned the cay into a sort of time capsule.

The history of Oak Ridge Cay began with the first settlers around 170 years ago. The first inhabitant was Thomas Alexander Cooper, born in Belize in 1834. “He had his home on the cay and all his descendants lived on the Cay,” says Keila Thompson, native islander and history researcher.

Cooper’s older brother John purchased 354 Acres from the British Crown sometime in 1850s -a surviving document refers to having the property re-measured in 1859. Thompson said that John Cooper most likely gave Oak Ridge Cay, the Point, and Pandy Town to his younger brother as a gift.

Over the last 170 years, properties on the cay have been sold and resold numerous times. Today, approximately 40 houses stand on the cay. There are about half a dozen Americans living there, and the presence of fences is increasing, with many being tall, chain-link, and strong. “Everybody didn’t used have fences,” said Keila Thompson Gaugh. “Everybody was family.” Wooden and chain-link fences divide the cay into increasingly smaller portions – the largest open area is just north of the Reef House. On the cay, everything is private property, except for the road, which is a common asset used by all cay residents.

The cay once had a population of agoutis but Mr. Miguel suspects they were hunted to extinction by the locals… Now, there are none. However, there are quite a few domesticated animals: dogs, cats, and some cay residents keep chickens and pigs for food. The cay never had any cows, sheep, or goats. There were also iguanas and Roatan island agoutis. “The dogs learned how to live with them. The people got them,” said Mr. Miguel.

First inhabitant was Thomas Alexander Cooper.

The Cay is dotted with old, wooden homes, weathered by time, wind, and use. Several of these older homes date back to the 1960s and 70s. The stilts of these old homes are made out of sunwood, dogwood, iron dogwood, and craboo wood. “They last a long time,” says Mr. Miguel.

A few years back, a public wharf at the east end of the cay served the community, but it has since weathered and disintegrated over time. Now, the only public spaces accessible to and shared by all are the road and the sea. Couple bicycles can be spotted on what the Caytons refer to as “the road,” but motorcycles are not welcome. The cay features many boats and plenty of private docks. There are two concrete wharfs jetting south, built over shallow coral, projecting into the sea.

Oak Ridge Cay is not as bustling and full of life as it was just a couple of decades ago. There were a couple of stores on the island in the 1980s and 90s, and maybe a school or two. “The last store that operated on the Cay was the Unicorn… but that burned down,” said Mr. De la Cruz. His mother, America Bodden de la Cruz, had the last small store on the Cay until it closed 2005.

Two “old heads” reside on the island: Mr. Miguel De La Cruz, 100, and Mrs. Lita Bodden, 84. De La Cruz was born in Mexico and has lived in Roatan since 1958. He is the Cay’s oldest resident, and lives in a modest wooden house on the far eastern side of the Cay, where he is taken care of by his son and daughter-in-law. Bodden is the Cay’s second oldest resident and came to Oak Ridge Cay form Guanaja when she was 12.

In 1960s and 70s, Oak Ridge Cay was a hive of activity. The heart of the Cay centered around the sand volleyball court, complete with two bleachers. “A lot of tournaments went on here,” remembers Mr. Miguel. The volleyball court, also the highest point of the cay, is located on Oak Ridge Cay’s western end.

In late 1960s, several Americans moved to the Cay. Gene Isbel, from Tampa, founded the Oak Ridge Chapel sometime in the late 1960s. “She was in the process of building a school when [hurricane] Francelia came and knocked it down,” says Mr. Miguel.

Several houses were swept across the channel to Pandy Town. A category 3 hurricane, Francelia passed south of Bay Islands in the early days of September 1969. A majority of the houses in Oak Ridge, French Harbour, and Coxen Hole were damaged and destroyed by the high tide. Several hundred families were made homeless.

Reef House dive resort has been catering to visitors on the cay since late 1960s. Bill Kepper came to the island in 1968 and built the resort as a fishing and diving destination. Kepper was Reef House’s original owner. Today, Reef House has a 10 rooms. Expats from the east of the island gather there for drinks and live music on Fridays.

Ms. Sissy James arrived with a Christian Pentecostal mission and built a school. Another American named Mrs. Gale Hutton started a health clinic that provided services in the late 1960s and 70s. Writer and map maker Ann Jennings lived on the Cay in 1970s as well.

For a very long time, Oak Ridge Cay was home to a busy school called Joseph L. Gough school, until 1978. “It served both Cay and Pandy Town,” says Mr. Miguel. The María Aurelio Soto School in Pandy town replaced it.

Is dotted with old, wooden homes, weathered by time.

“When Francelia hit in September 1969, a two story school building was swept across to the other side [Pandy Town],” says Miguel de la Cruz. Hurricane Greta in 1978 was also not kind to the cay. In nine years, Roatan and Oak Ridge Cay suffered three major hurricanes.

The hurricanes had a dramatic impact not only on the way people lived, but also on the flora of the cay. “This place used to have a lot of sage bush when I was a kid,” remembered Mr. Miguel. “Hurricanes took them out.”

Until the 1990s, the Cay was dotted with coconut trees until the lethal yellowing disease reached Roatan. More than 90 percent of Roatan’s coconut palms (Cocos nucifera L.) were affected and died gradually. This saddened the local community a great deal. Affected trees would prematurely lose their coconuts, followed by yellowing leaves and, eventually, the death of the palm.

The original coconut palms were tall, skinny, and often bent with plenty of personality. These palms also produced a superior coconut, characterized by more white meat, which made them ideal for producing coconut oil. Only a few of the original big coconut trees survived. They are much taller than the coconuts that are now grown on the cay and around the island. “I’m talking about tall, real tall,” says Mr. Miguel. They are much better to use in making coconut oil.

As coconut palms and sage disappeared over the last thirty years, the Oak Ridge Cay also eroded into the sea. The erosion was worse on the southern side, where the cay lost about 1/3 acre, and on its eastern side, where it lost a quarter acre. The cay is now a bit lower, making it more susceptible to flooding and exposed to strong eastern winds and tides. With the decline of the king coconuts, wind-borne seedlings of the Australian Pine (Casuarina) took root and are now prolific on the Cay. This tree species is invasive and often destructive, but according to Helen Murphy, island expat and professional gardener, it does help with soil stabilization.

In 1960s and 70s, Oak Ridge Cay was a hive of activity.

In the salty air and poor sandy soil of the Cay, not many trees thrive. Still, there are many new coconuts, almond trees, sea grape tree, and cocoplums. The cay also hosts a mango tree and, incredibly, two date palms situated right on the water’s edge on its southern side. According to Mr. Miguel, the date palm seedlings were brought by one of the islanders who worked on boats in the Middle East.

Physical remnants – or at least lingering memories – of buildings and businesses that thrived on Oak Ridge Cay decades ago still remain. One such establishment was the Unicorn store, run by Mrs. Lurlene Cooper de McNab from the early 1970s until 1993, when it caught fire and burned down. More recently, the San José Motel, located on the channel facing Pandy Town, was demolished. This motel, with six rooms, served as lodging for salespeople coming to Oak Ridge. It was knocked down in 2022.

“That Northern is still blowing out on the shrimping grounds and shrimping boats are anchored up for three days now, sheltering behind Bogas Keys (Cayos Vivorillos). My brother has his anchored shrimper there. While talking to him later, on the Side Band radio to get an update. “There is a tropical wave developing in the Eastern Caribbean, heading northwest, and getting stronger. Got to keep an eye on that,” he said.

One of the reasons for the close attention paid to the weather has been the maritime nature of the livelihoods of so many Bay Islanders. The islanders find it important to know what loved ones working at sea are encountering in real time or what they might encounter in the coming days or weeks.

Another reason is that the Bay Islands have had its share of hurricanes, most recently with Hurricane Lisa. Some hurricanes that have hit the Bay Islands have also been very destructive, among these Hurricane Mitch in 1998, Hurricane Fifi in 1974 and Hurricane Francelia in 1969.

Decades ago, current weather and past hurricanes were a common topic amongst the islanders. Growing up in French Harbour in the 1970s, Francelia and Fifi were often spoken of anecdotally. My memory of which hurricane belonged with which anecdote is rather blurred.

I remember there being three separate structures on higher ground where entire French Harbour families sought shelter during Francelia and Fifi. These included the Seventh Day Adventist School and the home of Mr. Allan and Ms. Yvette Hyde, both located just to the South of the French Harbour cross-roads. The third was the small home of Ms. Minnie Jackson, which was located on the high ground on the North side of the canal that runs from the lagoon to the harbor.

Men remained in the yard and tied themselves to coconut trees.

Ms. Minnie’s home, during Hurricane Francelia, was so packed with children and their mothers that a number of the men remained in the yard and tied themselves to coconut trees.

Before arriving at Ms. Minnie’s, my father had been delayed at the harbor where he had gone to secure the Boy Laguna, the steel-hull shrimper which he captained at the time. It was then that our neighbor, Mr. Christopher Jones, helped my mother take her children to Ms. Minnie’s home.

My older sister and brother recollect the saltwater reaching their knees as they made their way down the French Harbor Street. They cut through the alleyway between the homes of Mr. Robert Arch and Mr. Algie Jackson. The alley led to the small wood bridge across the canal, which was located some 200 feet east of the current bridge. The alleyway was lined with oleanders being punished by the winds.

Following the hurricanes, there was always the tasks of going back into town to assess the damage. A potable water tank washed off its stilt platform and lodged underneath the house across the street, where it had broken away some of the house’s posts.

In the hole left by one of these posts we found a large red snapper swimming in circles. There were some changes with the shoreline as large deposits of clean, white beach sand ended up on the French Harbor Street. That sand was later claimed by Mr. Charlie Hyde, whose home was on the seaside of the street. Patiently, he wheel barrowed away all that he wanted.