About Cajoma IV
The first morning, I woke before the sun just as the engine hushed near Kelor Island. There was this quiet hum of the sea against the hull, the faint scent of coffee drifting from the galley, and the sky bleeding soft pinks over the low jungle. I stepped barefoot onto the teak deck, still cool from the night, and watched the first light hit the water. It wasn’t dramatic yet — just calm, real, and somehow more intimate than I’d expected on a boat built for ten.
We spent that first afternoon snorkeling at Menjerite. The current was mild, and the coral shelves dropped off quickly into blue. I saw parrotfish scraping the reef, a small octopus tucked in a crevice, and that odd, peaceful feeling when you’re floating and the world above fades. Back on Cajoma IV, the crew had laid out chilled towels and fruit. I soaked in the jacuzzi as the sun dipped behind the hills, the bubbles mixing with the salt on my skin.
Day two began before dawn. We anchored off Padar and climbed the trail in near-darkness with headlamps. By the time we reached the top, the sky had turned gold, and the famous triple-bay coastline unfolded beneath us — rugged, dry, and impossibly vast. After breakfast on deck, we moved to Komodo Island. The ranger handed out walking sticks, and we followed the path through savannah scrub. Seeing the dragons up close — their slow, deliberate movements, forked tongues flicking — was like watching something ancient recalibrate.
Later that day, we swam at Pink Beach. The sand really is pink, though it’s subtle unless you’re right on it. What struck me more was the snorkeling just offshore: healthy brain coral, clownfish in anemones, and the odd blacktip reef shark darting past. Then came Manta Point. We suited up and jumped in without fins, letting the current carry us. The first manta glided under me so close I could see the pattern on its back — like constellations mapped onto skin. No touching, of course, but the encounter felt deeply personal.
On the final morning, we motored to Taka Makassar. The sandbar was already dotted with other boats, but Cajoma IV found a quiet edge. We waded out, took the usual photos, then snorkeled the outer rim where the current brought in pelagics. A quick stop at Kanawa followed — shallow coral gardens, ideal for lazy laps. As we returned to Labuan Bajo, the crew served warm tea and handed back our gear, packed clean and dry.
The boat itself was 30 metres of polished wood and quiet efficiency. One cabin for guests, air-conditioned, with thick bedding and a private bathroom that never clogged. Meals were served family-style: grilled fish, stir-fried greens, tropical fruit. No frills, but everything worked. I never felt crowded, even with ten on board. It was luxury in restraint — space, quiet, and time.
