Enlarge Photo

Photo by: Zach Stovall

I never meant to read my father's journal. But when I found the yellowed stationery tucked away in my childhood home, I couldn't help myself. It was like discovering an antique treasure map – and my dad was the pirate who'd penned it. From a dusty manila envelope I pulled five sheets of paper, each with his unmistakable handwriting beneath a teal letterhead that read, "Pineapple Beach Resort, St. Thomas, Virgin Islands, U.S.A." After a quick scan of page one, it was clear that I'd uncovered an intimate piece of family history: a day-by-day account of my parents' honeymoon in 1973.

I'd always heard stories of that trip – how they ate fresh pineapple for breakfast, got sunburns even while sitting in the shade, tried snorkeling for the very first time – but this was different. This was a road map to Caribbean romance. After reading about their one-week trip, it was clear the St. Thomas of my parents' past was idyllic and largely undiscovered. "In those days going to the Virgin Islands was like going to Tahiti today," says my mother, who's still honeymooning with my dad more than 35 years later. "Everything felt so exotic." What remained of that era, that atmosphere? Only one way to find out: My wife, Joy, and I head to the island with my father's journal as our guide.