THE SCENE IN THE Grenadines

I’M ON A BOAT with my captain, Vibe, and his teenage deckhand, Storm. It’s my first afternoon on Bequia, one of the 30-some islands that make up St Vincent and the Grenadines, and we are sailing around the western coast to take a look at Moonhole, a former utopian community chiselled out of the rocky cliffs. At one time, there were dozens of people living in this commune and eco-resort, founded in the 1960s by a Chicago advertising exec. It ran on solar power and rainwater and was built entirely from local materials, including whalebone and old anchor chains.

Judging by the precarious stairs cut into the cliff face, Moonhole was never the easiest place to reach, and over the years, minor squabbles and major storms have left it looking a little forlorn. Still, one of the original residents, Charles Brewer—a 90-something architect who taught at Yale with Frank Lloyd Wright—continues to live there, and there are six villas available to rent. Presumably not the ones I saw with trees growing through them.

The Grenadines, an archipelago that unspools across the eastern edge of the Caribbean just above Venezuela, have always been like