The sun breaking across blue waters and refracting from wave creases dances as the day begins. Workers return to jobs. Driving across the central peninsula of land puts us face to face with a more traditional island. The tourist crowds have abated and the roads slimmed like a novice cross-fit fanatic. The invitation of the bay is answered with snorkels and fins.

Piloted by our new friend, Rodolpho, the women head to the snorkelling grounds. The submerged wreck beckons the snorkelers ours and divers. There at the black out a sunken ship harbours the vast colouring book of the sea. Eyes peeled in the running tide for approaching fish and static crustaceans.

Confidence demands companionship and the 6 knot tide is more than most can swim against. Margaret is drawn back on track by Rodolpho as he guides her within the boundaries of the tidal drift. She feels safe and the armpit scars from the life vest will turn from red to blue in the next six hours.

Settled in the shade of the shore-line trees I enjoyed a local piece of Mahi and chips as I awaited the return of the snorkelers. The beached outrigger has been repaired for more than ten seasons of wear. Colours faded in contrast to the blues of the bay.

Around the corner, fresh fish, sun over an infinity pool and a promising evening. We stop at a local PADI certification pool. We swim, watch the sun, drink lemonade and simply savour having found Amed. This bay, this beach like so many others was reason enough to stay here!