Five days on Bonaire

Ten minutes out of town, right beside the runway. Easy sand entry and the first snorkel of the trip — do it now, while the water is still flat.

The road runs between white mountains of salt and pink water. A photo stop, not a walk: the pans are working industry, so stay on the road and behind the markers.

An hour on the sand, where the pink comes from crushed shells. Nothing here at all — no shade, nothing to buy — so bring your own.

The first of the two sets, on the shore side of the road. Barely tall enough to sit up in, and built to house the enslaved workers of the salt pans. The sign is worth reading before you photograph them.

The kite beach, and by early afternoon the wind is up. You do not have to get in the water — half the point is watching from the shore.

The second set, a few minutes further south. Same story, and the audio at both stops is the same recording — one telling, two places.

The southern tip, where the calm west coast and the rough east coast meet in one view. You can see the difference in the water from where you park.

Round the corner onto the east side, and the water changes completely: waist-deep, flat and warm across the whole bay. The windsurfers are here, and so is a drink at the end of the driving.

A stop on the road above the bay. Flamingos and wild donkeys use the flats behind it, which are protected — stay on the main road.

Back in town for the last hour of light. The boulevard faces west over Klein Bonaire, and the sun goes down between half past six and seven all year round.

The boats leave from the pier beside the bar, not from the cruise pier. Be there for the first crossing and photograph the time of the last one when you board.

An uninhabited islet 800 metres offshore with reef starting fifty metres from the sand and visibility routinely over twenty metres: the best snorkelling within reach of anyone without a tank.

Back on the pier with salt in your hair, and two minutes up from it the Italian ice cream everyone ends up at. The right order is: boat, ice cream, boulevard.

The last hour of light, walked slowly with Klein Bonaire straight ahead of you — the island you spent the morning on, from the other side.

Sixty-seven steps down, not a thousand, and slippery when wet. Turtles graze the shallows and the reef is close in. Go first, while the water is still flat.

A gap in the cliff where the swell comes up through the rock. Five minutes, from the roadside — the edge is undercut and there is no railing.

The old plantation house above the coast, yellow against the dry hillside, with the aloe terraces still visible below it. The view back south is the one on the postcards.

The better of the island's two flamingo stops: fewer birds than Pekelmeer, but nearer the road and better lit in the morning. The 50-metre minimum distance is enforced here too.

The oldest village on the island, founded inland and out of sight of the sea so that raiders could not spot it from the water.

Free entry, deep shade under old trees, wild parrots overhead and the only cactus liqueur in the world. Closed on Sundays; this is where the hottest hour of the day belongs.

The stone store where enslaved workers came to collect their rations, now the place the island tells its own story. Weekdays only.

The windward side, and the reason the west coast is as calm as it is: here the Atlantic comes in without anything in front of it. Look, do not swim.

Twenty-five minutes back towards town, and the right place to watch the light go: the whole southern half of the island lies below you.

Back on the boulevard for the last of it, the way the tour ends too. Dinner is on the water at the south end.

The gate and the visitor centre first, then the salinas: Salina Matijs and Salina Slagbaai both hold flamingos, and Playa Chikitu on the windward side is for wading and photographing, not for swimming.

The historic yellow buildings, the only real shade in the park and the picnic stop. The snorkelling at Wayaka, twenty minutes on, is the best in the park and belongs in the middle of the day.

Half a metre of water, red mangrove channels and the nursery that feeds the reef you have been swimming over all week. Children from four.

You drive through with hay on the seat beside you. Open daily until 16:00, with last entry at 15:00.

Back in Kralendijk for the last evening: small, yellow, on the water, and two minutes from everything else.

On the waterfront, and the right place to end five days that were mostly about the sea.