Manjarite Beach

Manjarite isn’t really a beach in the traditional sense; it’s more of a secluded lagoon. You’ve got this narrow strip of sand, incredibly still water, and dense mangroves framing the bay. The first thing that catches your eye from the boat is the long wooden pier stretching out into the blue. It’s one of those spots where you just want to wander down the planks—some people are diving off the end, while others are just leaning over, trying to spot the coral through the surface.

There’s hardly ever a ripple here because the bay is so well-protected from the open sea. That’s exactly why people come. There’s no drama, no tricky currents—the water just sits there, almost motionless.

Most of us stop at Manjarite for the snorkeling. It’s shallow, maybe three to five meters deep, and the reef starts practically at the shoreline. On a sunny day, the light hits the seabed so perfectly that every fish stands out in high definition. You’ll see everything: clownfish, chromis, and those vibrant schools of reef fish. If you're lucky, a sea turtle might glide past—they’re usually quite unfazed by humans and just go about their business feeding on the bottom.

It might lack the dramatic, jagged landscape of the other islands, but after a day of trekking up steep hills or diving in heavy currents, this is exactly what the soul needs. It’s quiet water and slow swimming. Manjarite doesn’t demand anything of you. You don’t have to battle the elements or scramble up slopes under a scorching sun. It feels like someone just turned the volume down. You can spend hours drifting along the reef or simply sitting on the edge of the pier, watching the boats rock gently in the bay.