Day Four, Part Two 06-06-02
The road that skirted the northeast coast was, in many places, little more than a pair of tire tracks across the rough limestone, running along the side of a nearly vertical cliff that appeared to be an ancient twin of the present shore. Our next stop was at the Blowhole, or Suplado, where wave action in a narrow cleft has hollowed out a spot near sea level. Seen from the shore, the appearance is that of a regularly-erupting geyser spouting above the rim of a bluff. We approached from the windward side to avoid a soaking, our feet crunching through a rime of salt crystals. Each wave that struck the spot drove into the gap, building up air pressure, until it burst out with a pneumatic “foosh” and sent a spray of water as high as a two-story house up over our heads. Again, we were the only visitors to the spot, and enjoyed the show as if the island were ours alone.

The way curved in from the sea next, and led past two other landmarks, Window Mountain (Seru Bentana) and the old lighthouse that tops the end of that range of hills. Carol and I stopped in the parking area and eyed the trail leading to the top. The temperature was in the nineties, humidity high, and shade nonexistent. We added that hike to our “to do” list and drove on.

A left turn at the next fork took us down a steep grade, past a salt lake (Salina Bartol) and ended in the parking area for the trail to Pos Mangel. The sandy path was hemmed in on both sides by thorny scrub and cactus, and the air was windless, vibrating with the force of the sun’s vertically descending rays. Goats loitered beside the trail, glancing at us with mild interest, probably remembering past handouts, and great scaly iguanas lay motionless in the crosshatched shade of the trees. The guidebook advises visitors not to drink from this, the only naturally-occurring source of fresh water on the north part of the island. As I reached trail’s end, half a dozen goats scurried into the brush, leaving me to gaze at the small expanse of reeking green muck.

The park authorities may as well have left all references to potability out of the guide; I could not have been induced to drink from Pos Mangel at gunpoint. It seemed satisfying enough for wildlife, however; the area was a haven for birds, and we were able to get within camera range of one handsome black-and-gold specimen.

Back in the Hi-Lux, (A/C on full) we bumped and bounced our way out to the northernmost point on Bonaire, where the ruins of the old research station and lighthouse baked in picturesque solitude. Then back to the main road, skirting Boca Bartol, Boca Catuna, Playa Benge, Playa Funchi, and down to the battered yellow buildings at Boca Slaagbai. Carol and I were getting hungry and sunbitten by that time, so our visit to the historic plantation-era port was brief. On the way out, we spotted a distant flock of flamingoes on the adjacent salt pan. The remainder of the drive was a dusty, twisting test of our truck’s suspension that took us through some of the island’s rough yet scenic outback, with views of Brandaris and the challenging climb out of Juwa Pass. Within the hour, we were back on paved road, heading into Rincon, the sleepy village that once was the center of civilization on Bonaire.
As I rounded a herd of goats near the center of town, I spotted a sign advertising refreshment, and parked across the street. Carol and I sat in the shade of Le-Ma-Se Grocery and enjoyed dishes of strawberry ice cream in the company of a polite but persistent dog whom I rewarded with the last taste. I told the proprietor, a Mr. Norman, that I had heard about his establishment on the Internet, and he was interested in seeing what the outside world knew about it but had no computer, so I took his address and promised to mail him a printout when I returned to Texas.
We returned to the Plaza hot and tired, and after a short rest refreshed ourselves with a snorkel off the resort beach, during which Carol spotted a sharptail eel, the first either of us had seen. Dinner that evening was at City Café, where we sat at a streetside table enjoying cold Amstels, a dorado sandwich, and a really outstanding cheeseburger. We strolled the waterfront at sunset, then returned to our room for the evening news and some goof-off time. Later that night, during the Letterman show, Carol showed signs of a case of “turista,” the major symptoms of which passed (no pun intended) before midnight.

George,
I am really enjoying your reports and the accompanying photos! I always had the idea that Bonaire was flat - but I guess not. We are going next April - I can't wait!
Carol

George, I have really been enjoying your reports!!!

Thanks for the great reports!