Window 33
Nu Kove
Copyrighted by the
®Wicked `mind’s eye of
Captain don/
Bonaire na
1974
1975
It is not often that I cry. But, as I watched Big Bas Marin’s coffin carried through the doors of the San Bernardo Church, my eyes filled. Following close behind was Ebo Domacassee, Bonaire’s first dive guide, and as I looked at him, I realized that the founding fathers of our diving industry are slipping away. Now only Ebo and I remain with memories of the beginning. Baselio had not only been a superb and beloved dive guide to all those early divers, but he was my friend. Together we had opened many exciting new reef sites.
My favorite site was Nu Kove. In 1974, Aquaventure, operating from the beach of the Hotel Bonaire, owned a big diesel boat called the Coral Queen whose Captain was the lovable giant of a man Baselio Marin. Bas captained the long hauls, usually to the western end of the island. They were all-day runs, great diving, the best. However, Hotel Bonaire’s Food and Beverage could not be convinced that Baselio needed the lunch boxes early if he ever wished to get back before dark. Because of this constant battle, I tried another tack. "Bas," I said, "enough is enough! We will buy a piece of property up at the end of the island near the park and build another dive station, a restaurant, with beaches and a pier." We thought of this special dream as Nu Kove.
To take on a project of this magnitude required an influential friend. Hugo Gerharts, an early pioneer of Bonaire’s tourism, threw his weight into the project and threaded our way through mountains of bureaucracy.
Baselio and I knew the general area in which Nu Kove was to be found. It had to be in a sheltered area many miles to the northwest. We had searched from the sea as well as the land without result. Hugo suggested that the Land Office had aerial pictures of the island, which we scrutinized with excitement. Then, yes, under powerful magnifying lenses, we discovered our Eden, protected by heavy reefs, seaward, and a half-mile of impregnable foliage on land. Here, amidst all of this, the lens showed a splendor of a twelve body sandy beach. However, there was no entrance from either land or sea. To purchase, as I had hoped, was not possible. We did get a five-year renewable lease, which was more than enough, a permit for the construction of a small building and a slap on the back to "get on with this project."
Our excitement wavered as realization of the distance from Aquaventure started to present problems: Tools, materials, cement mixers, water, sand, and all the things it would take to produce this small dream. Axes, picks, and shovels to clear a path to the site. The ingenuity to wait for low-tide to build a concrete dock atop the coral. Wooden ramps to bridge the upper structure to the dock. A path to be cut into the coral embankment to reach the beach.
Lastly, there was still the seemingly impossible task of cutting by hand a channel from the shallow pool by the beach to the open sea beyond, as daunting as the Panama Canal’s Gaillard Cut. Baselio looked out across the barrier to the open sea and said something in Papiamentu that might have translated as "a piece of cake." With new admiration, I turned and looked at Baselio, his six foot two inch frame, wrestler’s imposing weight and strength, shoulders capable of moving a twelve-pound sledge with ease. From that moment, the project was "all go."
Bruce Bowker and Eddie Statia were the fellows in charge of outfitting the special truck required for the project: A ton and a half stake truck. Space for a dozen divers, many steel tanks, two small outboard engines, fuel, enough food, sizeable roll-out shade awnings, drop-down lunch tables, guitars, and a set of horse shoes, just for fun. And a Daisy B-B gun for plunking. There was a lot more on the truck, of course, binoculars for bird watchers, a cot for those who wished to snooze, and a first aid box, but radios were a "no-no."
Everybody at Aquaventure was excited about the Nu Kove project. The crew looked forward to their turn to guide divers through this special portal to the reefs. In time, the road entrance, the parking area, the ramp, and dock were completed. The time had come to begin The Cut. This horrendous undertaking required three weeks of back breaking toil to complete the channel. After The Cut was finished, the rubble was removed, and the sea was ours. In my opinion, there was no lovelier place.
A boat we called The Bull, not as pretty as it was functional, with the two small outboard engines, could take a group of eight or so excited divers north to the normally inaccessible, beautiful reefs on the west coast of Washington Park. We could easily do three trips a day from the Nu Kove hub. Nu Kove was an exciting experience, a happening of that early year 1974, whose memories should be shared with all.
Peter Hughes at Flamingo was the only other dive shop on island, and Peter did not encourage diving freedom. Therefore NuKove was for a special time our own private domain. However, other dive operators came later, and shore diving escalated. There were storms from the West, and I was busy building Habitat. Things changed. Dive staff found new ventures. The Bull was swept from its mooring and bashed against the cliffs. Nu Kove became a memory. Big Baselio drifted to other ports, and life went on.
Now, thirty years later, as I look upon his coffin, my memories are alive and acute, as if all of this had only been yesterday.
Saturday, 30 October 2004
don/
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By Captain Don (Experienced BonaireTalker - Post #379) on Tuesday, September 16, 2008 - 5:53 pm: 
