CHICHIRIVICHE, Venezuela — Boatsman Osvaldo Romeo brings his outboard down to a purr, nudging his "Maribaby" gently into a sinuous tunnel of draping vines and clasping mangroves.
"This is a special place," he whispers reverently.
Around a sun-dappled bend, five brilliant red ibis perch on a tree — eyes alert, beaks thrust skyward.
A frenzied flapping of Day-Glow wings engulfs the tunnel. The flock soars skyward, red dots fusing into a scarlet haze on the horizon.
The hidden aviary is among many in Venezuela's Morrocoy National Park, an 81,500-acre refuge along the Caribbean's Golfo Triste, or Sad Gulf.
Favored by ocean-loving Venezuelans and savvy Caribbean seamen, Morrocoy offers 14 sun-drenched cays, abundant wildlife, hiking, scuba diving and caves devoted to saints primitive and modern.
Pink flamingos dapple its vast salt flats. Howler monkeys and jaguar prowl Chichiriviche Peak, a looming coral promontory reminiscent of the White Cliffs of Dover.
For the Jet Set, there's catering: Sun-bronzed vendors swim from boat to boat at a pristine anchorage a mile offshore, selling calamari and shrimp cocktails from foam coolers. They even accept credit cards.
Landlubbers have two starting points to explore Morrocoy. The first is Tucacas, a budding city of Florida-style condos, abundant tour operators and such precious gems as the Virgin of Fatima Liquor Supply Store.
The other is Chichiriviche, an hour's drive north across the peninsula. It's a dusky town, where ponies run freely, and it is struggling to accommodate development with its fishing and coconut plantation heritage.
Chichiriviche isn't everyone's idea of a vacation spot. Many Venezuelans prefer the conveniences, including air-conditioned condos, of Tucacas. But Chichiriviche's sandy streets, guest homes decorated with driftwood and unpretentiously delicious seafood are a good base for those who don't mind power blackouts or sleeping under mosquito netting.
Come dawn, fishermen gather at Chichiriviche's pier to ferry visitors to the islands. At sundown, innkeepers treat their sunburned guests to sumptuous meals of fried "criollo" cheese, the day's seafood and ice-cold local beer before the evening's retreat to hammocks gently swinging in the ocean breeze.
Neighborhood-watch committees groom the town's beaches, maintain beach chairs and thatch-roof huts and provide security so that visitors can doze the languorous afternoons away.
Morrocoy itself offers sterling white beaches massaged by sky-blue waves; the cliff-top semi-deciduous forest that is home to matacan deer; the Cuare Fauna Refuge, home to the endangered coastal caiman, scarlet ibis, flamingo and 80 percent of Venezuela's hundreds of exotic bird species.
Gouged into Chichiriviche Peak is a 250-foot sinkhole with petroglyphs dating to 3400 B.C. — the mysterious beckonings of a people called the Caquetios.
A nearby cave is devoted to more modern veneration: Dozens of tiny statues of the Virgin del Valle, patron saint of Venezuela's fishermen, and other saints adorn its pockmarked walls. Here and there are pasted a fraying prayer or photo of a loved one.
Morrocoy's marvels are under threat by unregulated development, sewage and garbage dumping, all signs of the region's relative poverty. A recent documentary on pollution in Morrocoy, produced by "Plomovision," a crusading Venezuelan version of "60 Minutes," drew national attention to the problem.
President Hugo Chavez's government launched a program to educate residents about the area's fragility and the need to develop eco-tourism, now the region's lifeblood.