Bonaire, Part the Second

Like many establishments in Bonaire, the Lion’s Den restaurant at Buddy Dive is open to the elements. Obviously, Roy and I noted, they don’t get much rain there. We staggered into the breakfast section, like many of our fellow travelers, and grabbed sustenance from the bins of bread products, then the chilled section of yogurt, fruit, cheese, cold cuts… Then we reached tea and coffee, juices, water, all offered in extremely small mugs and glasses. Finally, the eggs, bacon, sausage, French toast, and pancakes rounded out the pre-made items, snug in their chafing dishes. The omelet and waffle station at the end of the buffet, ably operated by Magda, was something we would try later in the week. But, on negligible sleep, we were not inclined to wait, or to make decisions about what would go into an omelet.

Coffee was good. I was convinced I would spend most of the afternoon sleeping, so I was trying to avoid tanking up on coffee. I figured a relaxing breakfast, followed by the resort orientation, would lead nicely to a nap. Bananas in Bonaire were inordinately good. Unfortunately, the only time we had them offered was that Saturday. The papaya with yogurt was also good. A side note on the yogurt: Bonaire is not the place to get fresh milk products. There are no cows on or near the island, so the most common type of milk substance other than powdered milk was drinkable yogurt, preserved so it could be stored and shipped at room temperature. The resulting product is a good deal tangier than the sweet stuff to which the American tongue has become accustomed. However, I thought it was nice. And there was a passion fruit peach flavor… yummy.

During breakfast, I got my first real taste of Bonaire Fauna (other than the type that had enjoyed my company earlier, in a feeding on kind of way). The seagulls speak a different language than the ones I’m used to from all over the States. These lovelies had black heads and white bodies and a much less unpleasant call. They also were not nearly as ragged and dirty as North American gulls. The pigeons, mainly brownish, were your typical winged rats. The doves, nicer-sounding pigeons, were dark brown, a contrast to the pale grey-brown ones in Austin whose calls fill the morning air and that commit hari-kari against our windows with distressing frequency. The resort forbade feeding the birds, no surprise, but they were all quite persistent. It was nice watching them over the ocean as we relaxed a bit.

After food, we made our way back across the resort to the front desk area, where we were told our room was ready. So we grabbed our bags and trundled back to Room 702 for an initial unpack, most of which entailed putting the expensive stuff into the room safe. By 8:45, it was time to head up to the cabana for our orientation.

One incredibly nifty thing about Buddy Dive resort is that it has its own dock for diving. We walked along that dock with the rest of our group and the dive master (who has black kitties tattooed on his calves, an endearing scarification), and I saw hundreds of fish swimming below the surface. While hearing about checking out tanks, getting weights and learning where to rinse and hang gear, I was thinking maybe I could do a snorkel… after a nap. We went to the dive shop and paid for our Bonaire marine park admittance, which everyone using the island must do before entering the water. We browsed through some fish books while waiting to give over our $25 each for the privilege to dive. And I thought, “Maybe one dive later… after a nap…”

So, of course, after unpacking some more and resting a bit, no nap, we decided we would do just one dive. I followed Roy, getting gear ready to lug downstairs to the dock area. I moved through my murky mind as though it was Jell-O. I wasn’t entirely there, but I was going somewhere interesting. (And, all the heavy stuff was already down at the dock, so I wouldn’t do too much damage if I fell down the staircase, especially if I carried my cushy wetsuit in front of me…)

The preparation for diving is something with which I was familiar. Last summer we spent a decent amount of time logging dives in Lake Travis, near Austin. Check enriched air in tank, soak buoyancy control device (BCD), pull BCD over the tank, secure BCD, attach regs to tank and BCD and turn on air, make sure air is flowing through the reg, add weight to BCD, turn tank et al on the side. Then put hood on, put wetsuit on (wiggle, wiggle, curse, tug), put on Tank/BCD combo (groan under the weight), put on computer, grab mask, snorkel and fins and head for the water. Simple!

Once in the water, I was used to communicating with my buddy (Roy, always) when we’d go underwater, and then spending the dive trying not to lose Roy in the murky water of Lake Travis. At the surface of the Caribbean Ocean, we said down, and thereafter diving became something entirely different from my previous experience.

I could see. I could see for long distances. And I could see more living things in one glance than I believe I had ever seen underwater before. Go get a Bonaire diving guide to learn what met our eyes… or check out http://ahpook.smugmug.com/ for vacation snaps. I know when we first submerged, I saw parrotfish, urchins, nursefish, and snappers. We swam out several minutes across the beautiful white sand. As we approached the end of the mooring rope that led seaward from the dock, we started to see more coral. At the end of the rope, there was even more coral. And there was even more as the ocean floor sloped down. At 30 feet below the surface, more breeds of coral flourished than I could count on my fingers. And in that coral, and above, and within, and around it there swam, floated, crawled, mated, tussled, and amazed thousands of fish. My dive computer yelled at me for breathing too fast as I gasped in awe, completely awake, at the wonderland through which I moved.

The gentle current swayed the few soft corals and numerous anemones that clung to the hard corals’ rocky surfaces. Cobalt blue tangs swam through lavender tube sponges. Tiny, tri-colored wrasse chased coral-chomping parrotfish as moray eels glowered inside crevasses in the brain coral, occasionally lunging forward, toothy mouths opening. Shiny royal blue chromis schooled, while their brown cousins swam up to the surface, then down again, then up… Angelfish sailed like underwater boats. White and yellow goatfish hovered at the ocean floor, stirring up sand and food with their Fu Manchu whiskers. We didn’t really know what most of the creatures we were seeing at that point were. We just kept pointing, eyes wide behind our masks, at every amazing sight. And every sight was amazing.

At the end of the snorkel-turned-short-dive, which lasted the better part of an hour, we emerged back at the Buddy Dock, thunderstruck. And ready to go again.