I was awakened this morning by a dream that was so realistic that had it been a bad one would have scared the bejebers out of me. It is Thursday Morning November 30, 2007 and the sun will be up in an hour or so. As I said this was not a bad dream, it was a RBD, Realistic Bonaire Dream. Isn’t it truly amazing how the brain works? I could feel the warm sun and the constant breeze, I felt every bump in the road and the coolness of the water as it bullied its way into my wet suit. The feel of the coral ruble under my feet, and that unsteady feeling you get as you make a shore entry to your favorite site and the colors, the colors were as vivid as if you were seeing them for the first time.
Just 94 days until we leave for our vacation, it seems like a long way off, but it really is just around the corner. As the coolness of a Wisconsin fall wraps it long arms around us, the days get shorter, and for me at least time starts to move faster in the direction of the strong grip of winter’s deep freeze. Then just as the hope of upcoming warmer weather approaches we will be bound for the comforts of the southern Caribbean, specifically Bonaire.
After a long day of travel and little sleep the wheels of the our plane will touch down on the solar heated runway of Flamingo airport, and I will be overcome by the same feeling I get when I visit that old neighborhood I grew up in, or the favorite fishing spot I shared with my father as a child. It is hard to explain, but it happens every time and I enjoy it immensely.
Dreams are for the most part wonderful things that let us experience new, or re-live things we have done in the past. In my dream it seemed we jumped from dive site to dive site like a slow but constant slide show, sometimes mixing up one with the other as if the slides were shuffled instead of being in the correct order. At least until I arrived at Bari reef. It is early AM and my favorite place to dive. Then every thing seemed to fall into place again. As we, we being my wife Sally and I geared up on the dock at Bonaire Dive and Adventure I could already see in my minds eye the layout of the reef. I could feel the anticipation building for the dive, and what the sea had to offer us. There is something special on every dive. You just have to take the time to recognize it.
We both stood at the side of the dock ready to make that giant stride into the warm clear water just below, a final check that everything is in order and one at a time we make the plunge. Bubbles boiling around our heads for a few seconds and then as the water clears we bounce back to the surface only to give the thumbs down signal to each other and begin the dive. We swim strait out from the dock and what little current there is pushes us just a little to the south as we approach the reef. We are at the point were the large gears from some unknown machine or ship make an anchor for the mooring buoy above. We both check our air supply and acknowledge each other with the OK sign and we are again on our way. Sally with her magnifying glass at the ready and her camera tucked safely out of the way under her left arm and held against her body. For some unknown reason my camera is missing and I feel an incredible lightness and an amplified sense of freedom. Sally moves slowly over the reef, she is never in a hurry, and I am always amazed at her ability to find the smallest of critters. It seems nothing escapes her. Just then I catch a glimpse of a single squinty eye peering from beneath a wash tub sized coral head, right at the edge of the reef. As I approach I can see the burrow entrance and a few discarded shells, I recognized this as the home of an octopus. Realizing it had probably just settled in for the day after a night of foraging, and trying to stay alive, I returned to the reef for some more exploration.
Sally got my attention and signaled that she had found something interesting to look at. There close to the reef, between two gorgonians was a huge grouper taking advantage of a cleaning station. Although I have seen this many times I still marvel at the courage of those little fish and shrimp as they move over a fish, in their mouth, in and out of their gills. Under other circumstances the grouper would have them as a snack.
Suddenly I am surrounded by large sea fans waving to me in the current and the gorgonians are as thick as an over grown field. It is then that I realize my brain has taken me on an instant side trip to the Red Slave dive site. I can feel the current pushing relentlessly at my substantial bulk and wonder if this is the right place to be diving today. I have to fin slowly just to stay in one place and at least for the moment feel at ease with the situation. I push myself forward and hang over one of the sand flows or groves that have forced their way through the reef from eons of storms and surge. Just as if on queue a porcupine fish emerges just above the gorgonians, he is big and he is wary, always leaving just the correct amount of water between us and him. The reef is alive with all manner of life a slipper lobster here, a scorpion fish nestled on the bottom looking exactly like its surroundings, a school of French grunts and several school masters taking refuge behind a coral head adorned on is perimeter with flowing gorgonians... Horse eye jacks patrol just on the edges of the deep blue and the appearance of a giant midnight parrot fish catches my attention. Such a beautiful deep blue, accentuated by my depth I am sure, and it has a substantial over bite. As I look away I run into the fins of Sally and realize once again we are back to Bari reef, and we are approaching the large PVC pipe that lies on the bottom and extends out from the dock area. This was once the intake for a large aquarium and is no longer used. It does however provide a good reference for exit from Bari reef to the dock. We make our way along the pipe slowly, spending time to off gas in the shallows as well as looking for some of the always present sand dwellers. I spot a peacock flounder with just its eyes sticking out of the sand, and wonder if it is not contemplating making a meal of the yellow head jaw fish that keeps popping out of the sand just in front of it. As we approach the steps I can see small red lipped blennies dart in and out of the coral rubble and then come to rest just long enough so that I can see the bright red lips on their otherwise dark faces. The surge pushes hard and I am at the ladder on the dock. One more push and I wake up, only to realize that today is a work day, its rainy and cold with the promise of snow tomorrow and still 94 days to go.
Tim
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By Timothy Westfall (BonaireTalker - Post #38) on Thursday, November 30, 2006 - 8:41 am: 
