Lean back, your body naturally follows as you tumble backwards into the arms of the sea. If you’re like me, you don’t care for the brief shock of immersion as the nooks and crannies of your wetsuit begin to fill before you gradually warm. You empty the air from your buoyancy compensator, locate the dinghy and take one last look at the known world, then allow yourself to sink, leaving all earthly worries to bob on the surface above. Relax. You are now descending into a surreal world. You glance at your dive computer under the guise of making sure it’s operational, but really to confirm what you already know, that the clock is ticking; you are on borrowed time down here. On the surface, as a human, you command respect and attention, but here, in the underwater world, you are only a slow-moving bubble maker, an awkward visitor from another universe in a sea filled with swift, efficient swimmers who deftly move around your flailing limbs. There is an indiscernible feeling your arrival is a violation, but despite certainty, you are infinitely happy. You are on vacation and diving in Komodo National Park.
Komodo, a small series of mostly bare islands, lies east of Bali and is part of the Ring of Fire, the Indonesia archipelago, comprising roughly 18,000 islands. Formerly called the Dutch East Indies up until World War 2, when Japanese occupation interrupted 350 years of brutal Dutch colonial rule. After the war, despite desperate measure’s, the Dutch were unable to regain a foothold in the country, and, under intense international pressure, soon withdrew their claim giving way to Indonesian independence in 1945. It is August 17, Independence Day, and red and white Indonesian flags not only abound on the anchored ships but throughout the country.
Unlike America’s humble origins, Indonesian history and culture go back thousands, not hundreds, of years. The country is one of the first true melting pots of the world, giving rise to the national motto Bhinneka Tunggal Ika or unity in diversity. Traders in ancient vessels from China, India, Arabia, Southeast Asia, and Europe plied these waters over the centuries, arriving in the archipelago to barter goods in exchange for spices, such as cloves, pepper, and nutmeg, and other natural resources such as timber. Some of these traders invariably stayed on, returned, or carried passengers who stayed on, such as the adventurous Chinese monk Yijing, who scrambled ashore in 671 AD to discover a land even then peppered with a rich variety of people and religions, including Buddhists, Hindu’s, Christians, pagans, and later Muslims, living in harmony and tolerance. Though Islam has taken over as the majority religion today, Hinduism remains strong, especially on Bali, the island of the gods, where offerings of rice, flowers and candy remain daily rituals and every house has an elaborate temple.
You settle into a horizontal descent as you drift downward toward the seafloor, casting an ever-watchful eye towards the deep blue. You have been diving several times a day for a week now, but the great Oceanic Manta Ray is one of the few creatures that still eludes you. Today you are diving a series of seamounts, and you level off at 22 meters. The current is strong, and you hug the reef, drifting above hard corrals and sea fans as you surrender to the current. Huge plates of coral tantalize your visual fields. Colorful sponges jut from each rock face, each one unique. Your dive master pokes respectfully underneath a lazy sea cucumber, looking for tiny shrimp. Even though you have a macro lens on your Olympus Tough tg-7 camera you are still too overwhelmed with the biodiversity of the fish streaming past you to give those minute details proper attention. A moray eel has settled beneath two beautiful crusts of rust colored hard coral, but he is weary of you and retracts as you float past. You spot a barracuda swimming solo out in the deep blue, a few unicorn fish, tuna, a huge Napoleon Wrasse, and several gigantic Hawksbill turtles, who use their ponderous flippers to swim with slow locomotion. By the end of the dive, you add puffer fish, lionfish, both white tip and black tip reef sharks and even a dormant frogfish and a bamboo shark to your list of marquee attractions. You have seen it all, except the Manta. You can see the divemaster shooting furtive glances out into the deep blue. You are ascending into shallower plateau’s now, where huge schools of small, exquisitely colored fish hover above the coral shelf and play hide and seek with passersby. They fill the tendrils of sea anemones and deftly match their color to the background corals in which they live and play. A trevally on the hunt darts by and fish of all sizes scatter. Another Hawksbill turtle lumbers on the sea floor below. You check the deep blue but still no Manta. You know the story by now. A quick glance at the dive computer. You are 45 minutes in. You check the air gauge. Only 50 bars. The dive master gets your attention, tapping the side of his tank with his metal wand, but you already know what it’s about. He gives the signal for the three-minute safety stop and you ascend to the five-meter mark. The water still feels warm. You feel good about the dive. Afterall, you saw a ton. You no longer fight the strong current. You stare at a green brain coral far below and your mind drifts. Your surface worries attempt to infiltrate your thoughts again and you sigh. You soak in the last remaining seconds of your last dive in Komodo National Park. You are just about to ascend when you see it. The elusive Manta, its long wings gliding past you. It’s been circling you. Just ten feet away. As curious about you as you are of him. He continues to circle. You shake your head in disbelief. You almost didn’t even notice! A Hail Mary at the 11th hour.
Back on the dinghy, a Spanish Mackerel launches itself a good seven feet out of the water before returning to the depths with a splash. Did I just see that? The boat is visible in the middle distance. It’s a 100-foot monohull in the Phinisi style, common to the area. Black with a yellow stripe running the length of the boat. You can’t appreciate the ragged pirate flag flapping in the wind from this distance, but you know it’s there. A Phinisi is a traditional style sailing ship dating back to at least the 14th century and built by the Bugis and Makassar peoples of Sulawesi to transport goods, such as timber, rice, and spices. This boat, the Thalassa, was indeed handcrafted in Sulawesi by a generational shipbuilding family. It is both sleek and strong, with Ironwood used as a foundational wood, and rounded out with Bite wood, Teak, and Sandalwood in the three guest cabins. It has two masts, symbolizing human balance, and seven sails, one for each of the seven seas. It is designed for long ocean voyages along the archipelago, as indeed the boat cruises between Komodo, June through august, and Raj Ampat, December through march. The Thalassa cost 800,000 Euro’s and was crafted with traditional yet crude homemade tools perfected over eons.
The boat is brand new, constructed in 2024, and falls under the ownership of Uncharted Cruises, founded by Patrick Wargin, originally from southern Germany but schooled in the United States, and Robert Von Malfer, from the Dolomite region of northern Italy. The boat exhibits the finest craftsmanship and attention to detail, down to the handmade wooden drawer handles depicting sea creatures such as dolphins and octopi. Upon year-long completion in Sulawesi, it was launched from land at a meager 5 cm a day, timing the launch to coincide with the highest tide of the year, all pre-planned a year in advance from a combination of knowledge and sea almanacs. Patrick and Robert alternate, but on this voyage, Patrick is onboard as dive buddy and cruise director exclusively for my family of five and he did not disappoint, showing attention to detail at all points of the trip, including rich knowledge about diving in general, the region, and the sea. He has made over 2500 dives in his lifetime and is at home in the motherly arms of the sea. The nine additional staff, including captain, divemaster, and engineer, made sure the boat was running well and that we were always all safe, comfortable, and pampered. We enjoyed treks onto Komodo Island to see the armour-plated, pre-historic looking Komodo Dragons as well as private sunset dinners on the shore, complete with acoustic guitar, local games, and bonfires.
The boat carries the newest dive equipment including the ultra-convenient Backplate and Wing Buoyancy compensator, (or BPW), far more comfortable than the traditional BC vest. Dives were plentiful and included pinnacles, sea mounts, drift dives, and night dives, with currents ranging from weak to strong and dive sites tailored to the skills of my family. For photography, we used the Olympus Tough tg-7, which is the highest rated underwater camera in a reasonable price range and works well for traveling, especially if you are not willing to spend 10 grand on an underwater casing for your expensive land camera. The Olympus Tough tg-7 cost 500$ plus 300 for the underwater casing. Without the casing, you are limited to 45 feet below the surface of the water. In addition, the Olympus zoom works well for macro-life and has a flash for night dives.
After the dive, you are greeted back on board with tropical fruit drinks, water, hot tea, and friendly smiles. On a dive trip, you assume an amphibious lifestyle. Your body adjusts to a continuous cycle of going between warm and dry to cold and wet and back to warm and dry, with some shivering in between. After a day of adjustment, one gives in and accepts the rhythm. On the boat, your day starts with breakfast between 6 and 7 AM, then a dive, followed by a second breakfast at 9 AM. Two breakfasts a day, just like being a Hobbit! The chef was outstanding and the food plentiful, served family style. On the last night, we relaxed on the top deck and watched thousands of large vampire bats take flight at dusk on a scavenger hunt for food, looking for fruit trees and insects.
Besides diving, I love roaming on a dinghy. That’s probably a strange thing to say but look at it from this perspective: If you are riding on a dingy, your life is probably pretty good. There is a sense of exploration and adventure, of being somewhere unique, like in The Undersea World of Jacques Cousteau, where Jacques is traveling upriver to film and learn the customs of the Dayaks in isolated Borneo. Being on a dinghy speaks of remoteness, or at least a versatile way of traveling that is off limits to cars, buses, subway, ambulation, or larger boats. It screams of being somewhere the mass of humanity can’t reach or traveling in places they may not even be aware of. Of traveling under the stars after a night dive or getting to the beach in the black of night. Of accessing that sandbar you come across in the middle of nowhere. In addition, you are zipping along, close to the water, hopping from wave to wave along the prow, and getting ocean spray, all of which make you feel alive.
On the negative, we did see some ocean and beach trash in Komodo. Plastic bottles, lots of bottle caps, sandals, straws, fishing net, heavy-duty water containers washed up at the high tide line of the beach. Komodo village likely a contributing as well as floating international trash reaching all destinations on the planet. Very disheartening to go to remote area’s and see any trash but it seems unavoidable on today’s planet. It seems like we could and should be doing something about this globally. Perhaps we can take up the effort here on Grand Rounds in some way.
LaBuan Bajo on the island of Flores is a jumping off point for boating and diving in Komodo and nothing more. Flight is from Bali, island of the gods. Several days in Bali before or after adds more spice to your trip. In addition, we flew to Japan to spend time in Kyoto for a different flavor.
