We woke to the long, flat outline of Klein Bonaire, sitting like a perfectly smoothed pancake just offshore. Completely undeveloped, totally flat, and wrapped in some of the best coral reefs in the Caribbean, it's basically a giant nature preserve floating a short swim away — and today we're going there. From the ship, Bonaire comes into focus as a mix of nature, color, and industry: two national parks, huge stretches of cactus desert, turquoise water, and then — unexpectedly — an oil storage facility with giant white tanks along the shore. Pristine reef meets practical infrastructure. Very Bonaire.
We docked at Kralendijk, the small, easygoing capital whose colorful buildings feel like Curaçao's quieter cousin. After a stroll through town (plus more magnets — the fridge door back home will need structural reinforcement), we rested with a limoncello spritz. There was supposed to be a geocaching meet-up at 10:15, but it turned out to be just me — the host's tour got shifted. No worries: I logged the event and upheld geocacher honor.
Bonaire is famously windy because of steady year-round trade winds, and those winds shape everything: the bent divi-divi trees, the tall kadushi cactus forests, the dry desert climate — and even the clarity of the water, by clearing sediment off the reefs. The island gets only about 20 inches of rain a year (it sits in Venezuela's rain shadow), so most plants are succulent, spiny, or opportunistic. Yet the mangroves in Lac Bay are among the healthiest in the Caribbean, making them the nurseries for everything we snorkeled with.
The Electric Catamaran
In the afternoon we boarded a very sleek electric catamaran that glides almost silently — no diesel fumes, no vibration, no noise. Futuristic and very reef-friendly. We sailed to Klein Bonaire for a shallow drift snorkel. Underwater: absolute chaos in the best way. Maybe 20+ species moving through the coral — parrotfish chomping the reef, schools of blue tang swirling by, trumpetfish stalking things, little territorial damsels yelling at everyone. I tried to stay in the moment instead of cataloging everything like a marine librarian. Aimee did great, though her gear wasn't quite right (she probably needs her own specialized setup). Back on the boat: a few beers and rum punch, then a second, deeper stop near the main island — perfect for my new strategy: pick a single square meter of reef and just watch. It worked beautifully. The longer you look, the more you see.
Parrotfish — the reef gardeners; their coral-chewing literally makes Caribbean sand. Blue tang — surgeonfish squads moving like underwater flocks. Sergeant major damsels — tiny but will fight a submarine. Trumpetfish — always pretending to be seaweed. French angelfish — the unbothered celebrities. Cleaner wrasses — run the reef's "fish car-washes." Goatfish — whiskers for digging like tiny metal detectors. Pufferfish — adorable, slightly confused, occasionally inflatable.
Morimoto by the Sea
We set sail around 5 PM toward our final stop, Aruba, and dined at Morimoto by the Sea — excellent flavors, a great way to unwind from the day's saltwater marathon. Bonaire was peaceful, beautiful, reef-filled, and full of small surprises. A very good day.
Twenty-plus species in a square meter, and not one of them a turtle — though Bonaire is a known hot spot for hawksbills, greens, and loggerheads. They were home. We were close. Next stop: Aruba, the final chapter of the ABC trilogy.