Indonesia > Sunrise on Pulau Padar

The air conditioning cools the cabin only slowly. The temperature on the display is shown in Fahrenheit, and I can’t figure out how to convert it to Celsius. Just as I get into bed, a generator next to my cabin is started. This causes a brief power outage, and the air conditioning switches off again. I don’t feel like searching for the remote control right now. Later in the night, when I wake up, I decide to do it after all—it’s unpleasantly warm in the small space. At ten past four-thirty, the alarm goes off. I stick my head under the shower in the tiny bathroom, wash the sleep from my eyes, and get dressed. Outside the cabin, I meet my fellow travellers for the walk to the viewpoint on Palau Padar. When I sit down on the bench, I discover that it rained during the night—I instantly have a wet backside. On the other boats in the bay, there’s activity as well. I estimate that about seven other large boats are anchored here. With our small tender, we are taken to shore. Because of the waves breaking on the beach, it’s not easy to keep my hiking boots dry while disembarking. Fortunately, the crew lends a hand. At the entrance to the National Park, a ranger welcomes us. “Stay on the path and don’t leave any litter,” he warns. He also tells us the route to the viewpoint has 815 steps. In the darkness, I take the first step. The nearly full moon lights the stairs ahead. When the moon slips behind the clouds, I switch on my flashlight. At a steady pace, I climb upwards. After about half an hour, I reach the viewing platform. You can go a little higher, but it doesn’t seem to add much to the view.

Indonesia - The stunning landscape of Palau Padar

The sun hasn’t risen yet, and in the moonlight I can make out the three bays of Palau Padar—already a fabulously beautiful sight in the dark. On the hill, we wait for sunrise. Unfortunately, there’s a lot of cloud on the horizon—too much for the sun’s rays to break through. Still, it gradually gets lighter, and the view becomes more and more impressive. I descend again, and the tender takes us back to our ship, where the crew has prepared breakfast. The captain sets course for Komodo Island. Interest in seeing the Komodo dragons here is limited; only half the group goes ashore. Two rangers lead us in search of the giant lizards. A baby dragon crosses the path in front of us. A little further along, two large males are resting. They watch us but remain still. A smaller dragon roams the open space, closely monitored by the guides. We can take photos with the Komodo dragons, with the ranger operating the camera.

Indonesia - A photo with the giant monitor lizard on Komodo

We follow a route of about two kilometres through the forest. After just under an hour, we return to the coast and beach, where another small dragon lies in the sand. We may have passed more along the way, but thanks to their camouflage they’re hard to spot. Perhaps because we saw so many dragons yesterday on Rinca, this walk is a bit underwhelming. We thank the rangers and walk back to the pier. Right next to it, a large dragon strolls along the shore—a final bonus sighting for me. Our ship moves just outside Komodo Bay and anchors at Pink Beach. The sand here has a pinkish hue, caused by fragments of red coral mixed in. It’s only when you’re on the beach that you can clearly see the pink glow along the waterline. From the shore, I head into the water with my snorkel mask. The coral lies deeper—probably the tide is coming in—so the coral and fish are harder to see. There’s also a strong current; without moving, I drift sideways over the coral. Because of the current and reduced visibility, I decide to head back to the beach sooner than planned. I have to kick hard with my flippers to swim against the flow. We wait on the beach for the tender to pick us up. No one comes. Calling is impossible—there’s no reception. After more than half an hour, the boat finally appears. One of the travellers onboard had a close call: he had jumped in for a swim but was swept away by the current, managing to grab the ship’s stern just in time. The crew had to pull him back onboard with some effort. The tender wasn’t available to help because it was on its way to fetch us. Once everyone is safely back onboard, we continue sailing.

Indonesia - Red coral fragments give the beach a pink hue

Lunch is served—delicious and well-prepared as always. In the afternoon, we arrive at a spot known for its giant manta rays. These flatfish can grow up to three metres across. The crew scans the water for mantas, and on their signal, we jump in with our snorkelling gear. I see a giant manta swimming below me, its graceful “wings” moving up and down. A stunning sight, but the animal moves too quickly to keep up. Fortunately, there are more in the area. It’s clear this is a prime spot—at least ten tourist boats float nearby. I swim to where most snorkellers have gathered. Looking down, I see several mantas gliding together—large and small, moving gracefully beneath me. I count at least six, but visibility is limited to a few dozen metres. Seeing these magnificent creatures is an unforgettable experience. By late afternoon, we anchor in the bay of Gili Lawadarat, just north of Komodo. I take a shower in my small cabin bathroom. As darkness falls over the bay, lightning flickers in the distance behind the mountains, but it doesn’t look like rain will reach us. The crew serves a wonderful dinner: satay skewers and fried fish. It remains impressive how they manage to prepare such meals onboard.