Its become a bit of a habit!  Normally, on a Sunday, just before 4pm, Margot and I load up Rusty and head for the beach.  Sometimes, it is just chairs and a cool-box; sometimes we add food and a barbecue.

We have mainly established ourselves at one spot, a small patch of sand on the coral strewn shore, where there is a nice entry point of smooth sand into the water.  We have built a small windbreak behind our chairs, from coral pieces that litter the shore. There is a bigger more established wall some 100 metres or so to the North but that is busier with a bigger parking space and frequented by divers.  So we have our little spot and by 6 o’clock, as we start thinking about replenishing our drinks to wish the sun adieu, the south of the island starts to empty out.  If we are barbecuing,  then by the time we eat, we are possibly the most Southern Residents of Bonaire.

Yesterday, our trip started badly.  We arrived just minutes behind a rental pickup.  A couple got out with snorkel gear, walked over to our spot and stood there.  They had no towels, no chairs or anything indicating that they would use the spot but it was obvious they were aware of our presence and wanted to claim, or deny us, the spot.

So we moved on.  Pink Beach, which has not been pink since Hurricane Lenny took the sand away in 1999, was busy with people occupying the good spots.  So we moved further south, down to Vista Blue and parked by the Big Tree – about 3 metres tall and so at least half a metre taller than the other bushes.  Its not so many months ago that Margot and sat there after celebrating someone’s birthday at Sorobon and also I sat there with Margot and her Dad.  A nice sheltered spot with good access to the water.  Sadly no more!  The current and waves are constantly changing the seafront.  Now there are exposed rocks and a 2 foot drop or more into the water.

So reluctantly we headed north again.  As we approached our usual spot, we saw the snorkellers in the water, some distance from the entry point and our windbreak was empty, nothing reserving it.  So, we moved in and everything was back to normal.

Going to the same place, every Sunday, means we aware of how things change.  How much sand on the beach, more than last week but less than 2 weeks ago.  We spot the resident birds, the Pelican that fishes that strip, the Laughing Gull that bosses the beach in the hope of scraps and particularly peanuts, the Least Tern desperately fishing as the light fades, hoping to take food back to his mate or young at the nest.

Some of them now have names, although the names are under review.  The Laughing Gull, was called Giuseppe due to his macho strutting on the beach, pushing away the competition.  Yesterday, we noticed that he has 2 black spots under his chin on the white breast.  So perhaps he may become Twinspot or Deuce?

The Pelican is, of course, Nigel from Finding Nemo.  He has a certain way of fishing; he flies into the water and, if has caught anything, keeps his head underwater, draining his bill, before tipping it back and swallowing the fish.  Other Pelicans tend to bring their head above water quicker, so we know this is our Nigel.  Yesterday, Nigel was fishing with a friend; a Laughing Gull.  They were both flying together in the same vicinity.  When Nigel launched an attack, the Gull would follow, landing on Nigel’s broad back or perching on his head, hoping for a scrap of fish to escape.

Yesterday, was a particularly eventful visit.  Ranging from a big bulk carrier moored at Salt Pier to take away our mountains of salt from the salt lagoons, the Dominican group who had locked their keys in the car and needed to borrow a phone to get someone to bring the spare keys, the kite surfer surfing close to the beach, too close according to the rules.  But the kite surfer stopped, turned out to be a colleague and friend of Margot’s who had just surfed along the majority of the stormy East Coast, from Playa Grandi and was meeting up with his girlfriend at the next spot next to us.  Incredible feat of daring do!

Perhaps I will add other happening in the future.  Its never boring sharing the beach with Margot, we have good conversations and see some wonderful things.  I haven’t written about the young Flamingo, struggling to reach the shore, flying against the wind or the Stingray that launched into the air.  Maybe another day.