About Sora
The first thing I noticed about Sora wasn’t the polished wood or the twin cabins—it was how quietly she left the dock. Just after 4pm in Labuan Bajo, with no engine revving or shouted orders, we glided past the fishing boats moored near Sebayur. The crew had timed our departure for slack tide, and as we passed the shadow of Bidadari Island, the afternoon light flattened the water to mercury. By 5:30, we’d anchored in Menjerite’s outer bay. I took the small kayak out just before sunset. The silence out there, with only the dip of the paddle and the distant chatter from the beach, told me this wouldn’t be one of those rushed Komodo itineraries.
Sora is a 34-metre phinisi with two private cabins, positioned amidships for balance. On the second morning, I woke at 5:45 to the smell of coffee drifting up from the galley. We were anchored off Padar, and the first dinghy left at 6:10—just eight of us, stepping onto the cinder track that switchbacks up the island’s northern ridge. There’s no rush to climb; the guides know most people want photos at the top with the sun just above the horizon. When we returned, the crew had already packed the beach lunch: grilled local fish, cucumber-tomato salad, and cold pineapple in coconut water, set up under a blue tarp on the sand.
The rhythm of the days matched the boat’s pace—measured, not slow. After Padar, we motored south to Komodo Island. The ranger station at Loh Liang was busy, but our group stuck close and saw six dragons within 40 minutes, one dragging a rotten egg from a monitor nest. Then it was straight to Pink Beach. Sora dropped anchor just 50 metres from shore. I swam in after lunch, standing on the pinkish sand that gets its colour from crushed coral. The crew left a cooler of chilled water on the beach, which might seem minor, but after a 32°C walk across the dunes, it was everything.
Day three began before dawn. We left Taka Makassar—usually packed by 8am—at 6:20, so the only ripples on the surface were from our own bow. Breakfast was already laid: banana pancakes, soft-boiled eggs, and strong Javanese coffee in enamel mugs. By 7:40, we were drifting beside Kanawa’s coral slope. The house reef here has anemones clinging to the drop-off, and we saw a pair of batfish orbiting a barrel sponge. The dive master didn’t push anyone to snorkel; those who stayed on board had hammocks strung across the upper deck by 9am. On the final leg back to Labuan Bajo, the captain cut the engines near Banta Island so we could hear the cicadas onshore. That’s the detail I remember—how still it felt, even with the journey ending.
