Komodo Seas and Closing the Year

Life at Sea

We departed from the port after a long overland journey across Lombok. By the time we reached the East Coast, the sun was already dipping low, and the heat of the day had finally begun to loosen its grip. Our boat wasn’t large—just big enough to hold around forty travelers, a small crew, and weeks’ worth of shared stories waiting to happen. Most of us slept on mats laid out across the upper deck, turning the boat into something between a floating hostel and a giant slumber party.

As we pulled away from shore, I sat at the bow watching the coastline fade. The water stretched endlessly ahead of us, and with it came a quiet sense of commitment—there was no turning back once we were underway.

That first night, we anchored off a small island and climbed a short hill to watch the sunset. The sky burned deep orange and pink, reflecting off the water in a way that made everyone fall quiet. It felt like one of those moments you don’t talk through because you know it will linger longer if you don’t interrupt it.

Christmas on the Water

Christmas morning arrived before the sun did. At 5 a.m., the guides gently woke us and told us to get into the water. Half-awake and skipping all normal routines, I pulled on my snorkel and jumped in.

Whale sharks.

Massive, slow-moving, and impossibly calm, they glided through the water beneath us as the sun crept up behind the mountains of West Nusa Tenggara. Floating there, suspended between sky and sea, it was impossible not to feel small in the best possible way. It was one of those experiences that strips away everything unnecessary and leaves you with nothing but presence.

The rest of Christmas unfolded quietly as we sailed. We swam, rested, shared meals, and let the ocean set the pace. By nightfall, the seas grew rough, rocking the boat enough that sleep became more of a suggestion than a guarantee. At one point, we even towed another boat that had broken down in the swell—an unexpected reminder that out here, things don’t always go according to plan.

Dragons, Reefs, and Pink Sand

The next morning brought Komodo Island itself. We walked inland under the guidance of local rangers, keeping a careful distance from the dragons that lounged in the shade. While the experience leaned more touristy than I’d imagined, seeing the animals up close—thick tails, heavy bodies, ancient stillness—was undeniably impressive.

Pink Beach, however, delivered in every way. The sand carried a subtle blush, and the reef just offshore was alive with color. Snorkeling there felt like slipping into a moving painting—corals, fish, and sunlight shifting with every wave.

Later that day, we climbed Padar Island. From the top, the landscape unfolded in dramatic layers of bays and ridges, reminding me more of Iceland or Hawaii than anything I’d expected in Indonesia. There, I met a new friend, a stunning double shield Indonesian Mantis(see photo below).

That night, we anchored near a beach and gathered around a bonfire. It was the kind of simple ending that didn’t need much—warm sand, quiet conversations, and the steady sound of water lapping nearby.

Back to Land

After one final snorkel—this time alongside baby reef sharks—we sailed into Labuan Bajo and said our goodbyes. Two days on land followed, marked mostly by rest: real beds, hot showers, and the slow recalibration that happens after days at sea.

A final waterfall hike on Flores offered one last dose of adventure before flying back to Bali. By the time I landed, it felt like returning to familiar ground rather than starting something new.

New Year’s in Uluwatu

I arrived in Uluwatu just before New Year’s Eve and, by pure luck, reunited with one of the very first travelers that Chris and I had met months earlier in Thailand, Flaminia (Flami for short). Reconnecting after so long felt great—a reminder of how intertwined this journey had become.

New Year’s Eve itself was unforced and exactly what it needed to be. Sunset from the cliffs, quiet conversations, then dancing by the water as fireworks lit up the coastline from Canggu in the distance. When midnight came, it didn’t feel like a dramatic reset—more like a soft closing of a chapter.

The following days were slow in the best way. Beach mornings, long meals, surfing sessions, and conversations that wandered from the past months into whatever might come next. On one afternoon at Padang Padang Beach, I got to teach Flami how to surf for the first time. Watching her stand up on a wave—and realize she loved it—was one of the most rewarding moments I’ve had in the water.

Moving Forward

When it was time to leave Bali again, it didn’t feel rushed or heavy. I boarded a bus bound for Java with sand still in my hair and the sense that the year had given me exactly what it was supposed to.

Some chapters are loud and chaotic. Others are quieter, stitched together by salt water, sunburns, shared meals, and moments you don’t fully understand until they’re behind you. This one was about movement, reflection, and letting the year end without forcing it.

The next adventure was already waiting.

Sunset on the first night of sailing

Pink beach near Komodo

Whale shark

The boat that took us through the island journey

Bay at Labuan Badjo

Deer on Padar Isalnd

Padar Island view

Indonesian mantis on padar island

Komodo Dragon in the "wild"

Entering Komodo island/national park

Me and the dragon

Sleeping quarters for the 4 days at sea.

Views from the ship

Waterfall on flores Island

Flami and I after Sushi

Flami and I at new years party