To the Editor:

Re “A Caribbean Eden in Ruins” (Travel, Jan. 26):

In January 1965, John Phillips, Denny Doherty, Cass Elliot and I wandered into the exotic beauty of St. John’s Caneel Bay — pitching our tents in the campsite, a gem of the Virgin Islands National Park.

We lived in our bathing suits and snorkeled with the millions of fish that swam among the coral reefs. We chartered a catamaran every full moon, dipping in and out of the warm Caribbean. We cooked on the grill and drank rum out of freshly opened coconut shells.

When we wanted more glamour, we hopped on our motorbikes and rode up to the Caneel Bay Plantation (now called the Caneel Bay Resort), the Rockefeller resort up the road, to indulge in more drinks and a great tropical lunch — once more abusing our American Express cards. The hotel had a wonderful gift shop, where I bought my first bottle of French perfume — Cabochard, the same I use today.

We made bonfires on the beach at sunset, wrote love songs and sang to John’s sweet guitar. It was truly heaven on earth.