One of my father’s favorite dive trips was with my uncle in Bonaire about 30 years ago. Since then, they’ve been on a logbook’s worth of dives, but they still reminisce about the easy diving, healthy reefs, pink-sand beaches, cold Amstel Lights and, of course, my uncle in his neon Speedo. (It was the ’80s.)

Fashion trends aside, Bonaire — located off the north coast of South America in the “ABC Islands,” along with Aruba and Curaçao — seems custom-built for divers, with beach-ready pickup trucks, drive-through tank fills, and plenty of easy-to-navigate reefs marked by Bonaire’s iconic yellow stones.

Navigation here is a cinch. Accessible dives right off the sand mean you can skip the dive compass but not your booties — entry and exit points can be rocky — and dive until your computer calls you in for a timeout. By removing the challenge of navigating a new site, you’re hitting shore diving at its finest.

Equipped with a rental truck from Buddy Dive Resort, my boyfriend, Jamie, and I have dive sites pegged out on our road map. Acting as a travel itinerary, the folded piece of paper is our dive bible. And we aren’t short on options. Buddy Dive caters to divers, evident from the on-site dive shop, photo center, drive-through tank-fill stations, and house reef. While it’s tempting to stay put, our home base is conveniently located on the western side of the island, so we decide to save Buddy’s Reef for later in the day, and start off with dive sites 1,000 Steps and Karpata.

Easy navigation doesn’t mean the underwater landscape is restricted to spur-and-groove formations. A short distance from the shoreline at Karpata, a wall delivers small treasures: a seahorse performing a tightrope act on a gorgonian sea fan; the arms of an anemone re-enacting a number from_ __Fame_; blennies darting about at the first sign of being discovered. On our way back to shore, a sharptail eel slides through crevices, tailed by a hungry snapper waiting for scraps. Even eels in search of prey seem less intimidating here.

On our next dive, at 1,000 Steps, the long limestone staircase that leads from the road to the shore (in reality, only 64 steps) is our only encounter that’s even slightly intimidating. In the water, the big boys here aren’t sharks, rays or whales, but the coral reef itself. We circle a massive, healthy forest of elkhorn coral thick enough to provide a protective home for spastic sergeant majors, schooling schoolmasters, and the laziest of all finned creatures, the soapfish. The Guinness World Records-worthy web of corals warrants a longer look and reveals a lobster reaching out to read the waters, while his neighbor, a spotted moray eel, peeks out from the safety of his den.

Back at Buddy Dive Resort’s house reef, our coral questions are answered when we’re given the chance to participate in its coral-restoration project with on-site PADI instructor Francesca Virdis, Coral Restoration Foundation Bonaire coordinator.

“Being able to participate in the coral-restoration program not only makes people aware of the real situation of our reefs, but it also contributes to their personal development as divers, learning the proper skills and applying them toward one common goal: restoration of our reefs,” says Augusto Montbrun, dive operations manager at Buddy Dive.

The coral-restoration program itself is like an underwater Christmas-treetrimming party (with a tree made of PVC pipes). Ensuring our buoyancy is in check, we hang small pieces of elkhorn and staghorn corals from fishing line, where they can thrive and feed in the open water. A few weeks later, after new coral fingers have grown, staff and volunteers replant them in their new home on the reef, among larger pieces of coral. As a result, the coral nursery has also become a nursery for fish, making the whole scene buzz with life.

“I invite divers to join me to share the beautiful experience of diving in a coral nursery or in a restored site,” Virdis says. “Corals are growing so healthy and quickly in our nurseries that it’s hard to catch up with them: We have at the moment more corals than hands! In less than two years Bonaire transplanted more than 3,000 staghorn and elkhorn colonies on degraded portions of the reef. There is no limit to what can be achieved when divers join forces.”

Having experienced just a section of what Buddy’s Reef has to offer, we decide to gear up and explore it again as a dusk dive. Upon entry, we pleasantly discover the nursery extends far beyond the safety of the PVC trees. The corals keep little secrets, like mini filefish, a juvenile spotted drum and a bobbing baby trunkfish. Even the wrecks here are on a smaller scale. When we reach La Machaca, an upside-down fishing boat lying at about 50 feet along the wall, its small frame is speckled with a pair of coupled-up angelfish accompanied by a slow-moving grouper. Above us, casting watchful eyes, three tarpon bask in the open blue. At dive’s end, the final curtain closes with a glorious wall of tiny silversides.

When it comes to wrecks, Bonaire’s showstopper is the Hilma Hooker, at the top of our agenda the following day. The 240-foot former cargo ship lies on its side in 100 feet of water, making its innards accessible to divers, and even better for photographers. The surrounding reef and its perimeter, tightly patrolled by curious tarpon and barracuda, also prove worthy of exploration.

Moving to Plaza Resort Bonaire for the second part of our week grants us superclose access to Hilma Hooker, so we spend the better part of the day taking in all of its angles. Since dive profiles here don’t hit much deeper than 100 feet, we are well within our limits, and can take advantage of the shallow swims back to shore that work double-duty as a safety stop and impromptu critter hunt. We’re stoked to spot an octopus under a coral head, but when it begins bouncing between coral heads, displaying what can only be described as a light show of costume changes, we hit our video jackpot. All of this shore diving and — thanks to the island’s strong conservation efforts — we still haven’t seen a lionfish.

While shore dives — and the Hilma Hooker— are part of Bonaire’s charm, we don’t miss the chance to check out Klein Bonaire, a half-mile boat ride from the mainland. Plaza Resort Bonaire’s on-site dive shop, Toucan Diving, fits us in on its afternoon dive to Sharon’s Serenity, off the southwest end of Klein. Similar to the week’s previous dives, the site leads to a wall of healthy life, in swimming-pool-like conditions. After an energetic green moray eel joins us as a third dive buddy, I realize that the critters here abound, no matter how remote you get. As we start to surface, a parade of squid moves in formation.

From a flamboyant octopus to a vivacious eel, the most remarkable constant here — aside from the healthy reefs — is the tranquility of the marine life. Like the divers who have flocked here for decades, the life below the surface seems to recognize that Bonaire’s waters are safe. Thankfully, the people of Bonaire have done their best to keep it that way.

At week’s end, we’ve used my father’s memories as our dive guide, so we decide to follow suit and continue along his tracks. We find the perfect place on Pink Beach’s signature sand, and toast the trip with a cold Amstel Light — without, of course, that neon Speedo.

If you're ready to explore the underwater world of Bonaire, read Dive Guide: Bonaire

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