About Lamain Voyage 2
The first morning, I woke before sunrise not to an alarm, but to the quiet clink of rigging and the smell of strong coffee drifting up from the galley. I stepped barefoot onto the deck, still damp from night mist, and watched the silhouette of Wayag’s jagged islands sharpen against a peach-coloured sky. We’d anchored late the night before, and the stillness was total—just the occasional splash of a jumping fish and the low murmur of the crew preparing breakfast. It felt less like arriving on a boat and more like being gently placed into a living postcard.
Lamain Voyage 2 is a 41.5-metre phinisi built for moving through these waters with grace. We were eight cabins full—mostly couples and two solo divers who got on fine—but the common areas never felt crowded. The upper deck had wide loungers shaded by a canvas awning, and I spent hours there with a book between snorkel stops. The lower deck opened directly onto the water via a swim platform, which made gearing up for dives effortless. I remember noticing how the dive team had already laid out our tanks and BCDs before breakfast, each tagged with our names.
We spent the second day weaving through the Misool archipelago. Early stop at Boo Windows—snorkeling through that narrow underground passage where sunlight cuts through the blue like spotlights. Later, we anchored near Farondi and kayaked into a hidden lagoon ringed by mangroves. One of the crew, Pak Dedi, pointed out a pair of blacktip reef sharks resting under the roots. Lunch was grilled mahi-mahi with sambal matah, served on deck with cold local beer. The food, honestly, was better than I expected—fresh every day, with options for those who wanted lighter meals.
On day three, we made a long crossing to the Dampier Strait. I half-expected to feel it in my stomach, but the hull cut cleanly through the swell. We stopped at Cape Kri—45 minutes of solid diving among batfish schools and giant clams. One of the guides tapped my shoulder and pointed out a tiny pygmy seahorse tucked into coral no bigger than my fist. Back on board, I rinsed my gear at the dedicated station, then sat on the bow as we headed toward Sorong. The sea turned glassy, and I watched flying fish skitter ahead of the bow for nearly twenty minutes.
I’ll admit, I didn’t know what to expect from a shared liveaboard. But the rhythm worked—early starts, long swims, downtime in the shade, meals together. Lamain Voyage 2 wasn’t overly luxurious, but everything functioned well: cold showers, reliable charging points, strong Wi-Fi when we were near towers. At night, we’d sit on deck with the crew, who played guitar and told stories about storms in the Banda Sea. It wasn’t staged. It felt real.
