Pain in Paradise

By Roberta Sotonoff

Many people judge a great trip by the richness of their tan. Not me. My badges of honor are bruises, bites and scratches. My return from Bonaire finds me highly decorated and happy.

After all, the little Dutch Antilles island, 50 miles north of Venezuela, is more than just another beach encircled by a mirror-like seascape. It is a diving, snorkeling, kayaking and windsurfing paradise. The rugged landscape of saltpans, hills and Washington-Slagbaai Park make it a natural one.

I take it alI in, and every activity leaves its mark on me.

Kayaking on Lac Bay is my first encounter with paradise. Experience is not necessary for this scenic excursion, but navigating the winding, narrow passages of Little Chicken Cove and Big Chicken Cove is kind of like maneuvering a bumper car at an amusement park. A slight wind in the opposite direction gives rise to frantic paddling. It is worth the sweat, because the translucent water teems with fish and scurrying crabs. Upside-down jellyfish pulsate through the water. The red mangroves that border the shore underscore the island’s natural beauty. Their branches prick my skin to remind me that I need more kayaking practice.

Superficial wounds do not deter me. There is too much to see and do. To the south, saltpans, slave huts, and the 170 year-old, 30-foot high obelisks that once guided mariners to their anchorages dot the landscape. The saltpans are like the suburbs to flamingos. They build their love nests and raise their chicks there.

Another great day trip is to Washington-Slagbaai Park, on the northwest corner of the island. Rincon, the island’s oldest town and one of the few places to get a cold drink, is along the way. Be prepared to interrupt the proprietor’s card game in order to quench your thirst.

After Rincon, the road becomes a gravel path filled with goats, lots of them. Yatu cactus serves as fences to keep them in or out, depending on the owner’s preference. Huge kadushi cacti towers above the Brazil trees and castor oil plants. Yellow and green parrots and gray lorries add color to the scene. Alongside the path is an old aloe oven, proof that aloe was once an important export.

The car bumps along past 1,000 Steps and Dos Pos. This flat, five-mile stretch, part of Bonaire’s 300 kilometers of bike trails, is popular with mountain bikers.

“Biking gives a different perspective then when in a car,” says biker, Lisa Blau.

I pass on the bike ride. Bumps in the road translate to bruises on my body. I am saving myself for Washington-Slagbaai Park.

The park is a kaleidoscope of cliffs, cacti and jagged coastline. The surf pounds against the shore, splashing water on everything in its path. Though it is possible to snorkel in certain areas, the water is often rough.

Quieter areas, like the park’s many pools, are frequented by lizards, stray donkeys, flamingos, pelicans, herons and about 185 other bird species. I only saw them for a little while. A bug flew into my eye and put my sightseeing equipment out of commission for two hours.

Bumps, scratches and a bug in my eye. It is time for some rejuvenation and pampering. The Harbor Village Spa is just the place. Their signature treatment is The Bonairean Salt Exfoliate. It is like human koshering. Unfortunately my salt exfoliate therapist speaks no English. She does not understand that I have a burn on my hand until she throws salt on my wound. My scream was her wake-up call.

So much for my day of beauty. I’ll explore the reefs.

“The water is so clear, you don’t have to dive,” says Andre Nahr, owner of Sand Dollar Dive and Photo.

That’s true. In some places visibility is 100 feet. Divers get a more upclose and personal view of the sea fans, sea horses, red and green corals, purple sponges and “the goats of the reef,” sea urchins. Still, snorkelers will get an eyeful. Sometimes large loggerhead turtles frequent a dive sight called, “The Forest.” Damsel fish, parrot fish, eels, sea horses, hawksbill turtles and a variety of corals are plentiful at “Old Blue.” There are many more sights off Kleine Bonaire, the little island near big Bonaire.

Because the island is out of the hurricane belt, there is minimal damage to this watery wonderland of abundant fish and healthy reefs. Also, in 1979, Bonaire designated its surrounding waters a Marine Park, instituted a reef preservation program and banned spearfishing and coral collecting.

About once a month there is a clean-up snorkel/dive. Care must be taken not to disturb anything encrusted with life. Consequently, everyone tends to move slower and see more.

I participate in the clean-up snorkel/dive under the Town Pier. While retrieving fishing line, cans, a partial sail, two rungs of a broken latter, glass, pottery and rope, I see a myriad of colorful creatures swim around red, purple, gold and green corals and sponges. It is fun until I hit a coral-encrusted pylon and scratched my arm, back and legs.

You would have thought I learned my lesson, but no. The next day I go windsurfing at Lac Bay. The instructor makes sure each of us has a basic understanding of the fundamentals, gives us each a board, and leaves us free to practice. For me, practice means more punishment.

Windsurfing takes balance and coordination. I have neither. To lift the sail out of the water takes upper body strength. Apparently, I do not have much. As little kids go whizzing by me, I struggle and struggle. When I get the sail up, it is only seconds before I hit the surf. I am in the water 95% of the time. I fall forward, backward, sideways, and belly flop. With every fall, my body smashes into another part of the equipment and bruises another part of me. I am sure structural damage has been done to my body.

Still that is not the worst part. The board floats into a grassy area where I repeatedly step on sea urchins. That night I perform surgery on my feet to remove twelve sea urchin spines.

The next day I limp to town. The friendly Bonaireans and the Dutch architectural influence on Kralendijk’s quaint pastel buildings make the afternoon excursion a delight. I manage to get through the afternoon injury free, except for the harm I do to my pocketbook.

Would I do it again? In a heartbeat.