About Catnazse Liveaboard
The first morning, I was woken not by an alarm but by the soft clink of the rigging against the mast and a sliver of gold creeping across the water from behind Kelor Island. I stepped barefoot onto the deck, wrapped in a thin robe from my cabin, and watched as the sky turned from indigo to peach. The air was cool, just before the heat of Flores Sea kicked in. We’d arrived late the night before, docking quietly after a simple but generous dinner of grilled mahi-mahi and spicy eggplant. The crew had already laid out flippers and masks by the dive station — a small thing, but one that told me this trip would run smoothly.
We spent the first full day chasing light. Sunrise at Padar was worth the 5:30 am wake-up. The hike up the switchbacks in the half-dark, guided by headlamps, ended with us sitting on the ridge as the sun spilled over the islands, turning the pink and ochre cliffs into something almost unreal. After breakfast back on board, we motored to Komodo Island. The rangers were already waiting with their long sticks. We saw three dragons up close — one yawning lazily near a watering hole, another slithering through the underbrush like a slow, scaly river. At Pink Beach, the sand wasn’t just pink — it was rust-red in patches, from foraminifera shells mixed with coral dust. I snorkeled just off the shore and spotted a tiny octopus darting between rocks.
Manta Point was the surprise. I’d seen manta footage before, but nothing prepared me for the silence beneath the surface, then the sudden shadow gliding underneath me. Two manta rays, each wider than I am tall, circled the cleaning station like clockwork. One hovered just above me, its gill slits pulsing, before flapping away with a flick of its wings. Back on deck, a cold lime soda waited on a tray. The crew remembered who took sugar. That evening, we anchored near Kalong Island. As the sun dipped, thousands of fruit bats lifted from the mangroves in a slow, swirling spiral. We watched from the upper deck, feet dangling over the edge, as the sky turned purple.
Day three began with a swim at Taka Makassar. The sandbar appeared at low tide like a mirage — a long, curved spit of white sand in the middle of nowhere. We ran around like kids, taking group photos and floating on our backs in the warm water. Then it was off to Kanawa, where the reef dropped sharply into blue. I stuck to the shallows and still saw a harlequin ghost pipefish clinging to seagrass. Catnazse Liveaboard’s sound system played low reggae as we headed back to Labuan Bajo. No one wanted to pack. My cabin — Superior Room Cafasa 1 — was small but smartly laid out. The bed was firm, the AC strong, and the porthole gave a perfect view of the wake at night.
The food was consistently good — not fancy, but fresh. Breakfasts were rotating: fried rice one day, banana pancakes the next, always with strong local coffee. Lunches were buffet-style: grilled fish, tempeh, cucumber salad, sometimes squid in black ink. Dinners felt like events — satay skewers lit over a small grill on deck, or a whole baked snapper with chili-lime butter. There was no pretense of five-star service, but the crew were attentive in a quiet, professional way. No announcements over loudspeakers, no forced activities. Just space, rhythm, and places that made you forget your email password.
