ABC Islands Visit- Part V Bonaire

ABC Islands Visit- Part V- Bonaire- Leeward Antilles

Tuesday, December 26, 2024- Bonaire

       We were up by 6 A.M, prepped and readied to set out. We had time for a formal breakfast at Opus, on Dec. #4. Then we assembled dockside for our tour of Bonaire. The bus had a cracked windshield and was smallish on the inside. Still, it had A/C. The driver was a retired I.T. Exec who had run a dive school on Bonaire for ten years. He is an experienced naturalist and would prove a font of information on the flora and fauna of Bonaire.

       Twenty-six miles long, by four miles across, defines the boundaries of this rugged island. The entire North end of the Island has been designated as a national park and left forever wild. The cacti and bougainvillea flourish here during the wet season. So do termites, iguanas and donkeys, standing along the road. Medical care is provided to all citizens as well as an old age pension. The tax rate for everyone is 33 %. Gas is expensive at $5.60 a gallon. It and most other commodities have to be shipped in from the mainland. Very little acreage is devoted to vegetables or crops because of the lack of potable water.

         We listened to the guide’s narration and appreciated his expertise. We drove along Lake Gotar. It is a knee-deep expanse, set aside for breeding of Flamingos. No entry by humans is allowed in the water. We saw dozens of these colorful birds swimming and feeding in the lake.

         All around us the cacti sprouted up like weeds engulfing everything. I could picture this place during the dry season, brown and lifeless. The guide pointed out an interesting geological structure. We could see a lateral spacing in the cliffs above us. That is an ancestral seashore level, he pointed out. And one just like it exists 320 feet below seas level, indicating a very much shallower Caribbean Sea many thousands of years ago. You miss things like this without a knowledgeable guide.

        The Spanish had come and gone from here in 1799, labeling Bonaire as part of the “useless islands.” The Dutch followed them thirty years later and developed a “salt making” facility that is still working today, now owned by food Giant Cargill. We would see it in a bit.

         In the center of the island sits an oddity. The “Town” of Rincon. A few houses and businesses surround what is labeled as a museum. A 220-year old, primitive home features pottery and memorabilia from the recent past. A few artisans  hawked jewelry. Mary picked out a pair of delicate pearl earrings. The loo here only charged $.50 and was spotlessly clean. “Big Boys” appeared to be a local gathering spot for men.

         Cruising the roadways at speed was an experience. Most of the roads are in awful shape. We held onto the seats for dear life. From the north end of the island, we careened back into the center of the Town. A few miles to the South sit enormous piles of “white gold.” The sea salt, that sells for $22 a ton, rests in enormous piles around the oblong salt beds. A mile long conveyor belt carries the white gold out onto freighters at the dock. Nearby, sits the remains of some very small slave huts. The practice hadn’t been abolished here until the 1850’s.

       At the shore, we stood and listened to an explanation of the coral reefs and all of the broken pieces of coral around us. The island forbids removal of any pieces of coral and fines anyone who violates that ban. It reminded me of Hawaii and a similar ban on removing pieces of lava. We did get a chunk of salt for a souvenir.

     The island had been a premier storage point for oil and gasoline during W.W.II. German subs and surface craft raided the island several times, trying to destroy the precious oil stocks.

      It was both hot and humid today as well. We were happy to return to the Reflection and her air-conditioned bubble. We elected to skip lunch and chill out in our cabin. I wrote up my notes, read for a time on the balcony and then had a wonderful id afternoon nap. At four bells, the ship sounded her air horns, slipped her lines and headed out to sea,  North and west for the 1,100 mile run towards Ft. Lauderdale.

        A late afternoon lecture on Salvador Dali drew us to the deck # 4 art center. Afterwards,  we slipped into the dark and inviting embrace of an English pub. We had a glass of cabernet there before heading over to the Opus for dinner.

      The Opus staff welcomed us like old friends. Charles, the waiter, King the wine steward and Wiznaya the asst. waiter took care of us. A glass of Cabernet, shrimp cocktail and then a plate of Seafood Risotto were wonderful. A delicious Lava cake with ice cream finished off the meal. We would be back in the gym on the morn, to atone for this luxury.

      It had been a long and interesting day. We repaired to our cabin to read and retire.

December 26-28, 2024 at sea North and West towards Fort Lauderdale

       Friday and Saturday, as the great ship motored N & W at 19 knots, we repeated our routine of the first two days on board. Gym in the morning, flowed by a leisurely breakfast and trivia games, led into reading on our balcony and an afternoon nap. The weather had turned cloudy, with rain clouds on the  horizon. The seas were relatively calm, except for the Windward Passage between Hispanola and Cuba. There, the winds picked up, the sea roughened and we got to rock and roll a little.

     Afternoon cocktails on our balcont led into wonderful dinners at the “Opus” Restaurant. It was a pleasant routine that kept us comfortable and occupied. The last night, we packed our gear and got ready to disembark.

     Early Sunday morning, the Reflection tied up at her berth in Forth Lauderdale. It was raining and damp out. We still had breakfast in the deck 14 restaurant and then headed to our disembarkation station. Like most final days, the ship was in chaos. 3,000 passengers had to leave the ship, get their luggage and find a bus, cab or shuttle to get them on their way. It was bedlam. In the port around us, three others ships were engaging in the same controlled chaos.

    We managed to get a ride to our garage, pay the garage ransom for our car and then set out through the crowded streets. Rte. 595 West had sparse traffic. It was Sunday. We passed onto Rte. #75 N & W, headed across the Everglades for home. A few rain squalls passed over us enroute. Traffic was heavy with people “returning from Grandma’s” over the Christmas holidays.

     In Estero, we pulled into the ranch, unloaded our gear and tried to return to normal. It had been an interesting trip into the Caribbean. But, like always, we were glad to be home.