About Kimochi II
I remember waking up early on the first morning, wrapped in a thin sarong on the sundeck, watching the sky turn from indigo to soft coral as we approached Padar. The air was cool, just enough to make the warmth of the freshly poured coffee matter. Below, the crew quietly prepped the tenders while the scent of frying garlic and rice drifted up from the galley. We’d arrived late the previous evening in Labuan Bajo, tired from the flight, but the transfer to Kimochi II was smooth – a short boat ride with our bags already stowed by the crew.
The boat itself is 20 metres long, with seven cabins tucked below deck. Ours was forward on the starboard side, just wide enough for the double bed and a small shelf for our glasses and phone. There was a real fan above, not just a breeze from a porthole, and the mattress didn’t feel like it had been borrowed from a fishing trawler. Shared bathrooms were cleaned twice a day, and there was always hot water – a surprise I didn’t expect on a liveaboard this size. By mid-morning on Day 1, we were snorkeling at Menjerite, where the current swept us along a wall covered in soft corals. I saw a turtle glide past, indifferent to our bubbles, while a reef shark dozed in the sand below.
Day 2 started before sunrise. We anchored near Padar and climbed the trail in the dark, headlamps bobbing ahead. At the top, the view unfolded: three crescent beaches in different shades of white, framed by jagged hills. After breakfast back on board, we hiked on Komodo Island with a ranger, spotting dragons lounging under trees like overgrown lizards. Later, at Pink Beach, I walked the shoreline where the sand really does blush faintly pink – crushed coral mixed in with the white. The highlight was Manta Point: not just one, but four mantas circling beneath us, their wings spanning wider than I am tall. The crew pointed out the cleaning station on the reef and explained how the same individuals return every season.
On the final day, we drifted between Kanawa and Taka Makassar. The water at Taka was so shallow it looked like a mirage – turquoise in the middle of deep blue. I snorkeled until my lips went numb, watching clownfish dart in anemones. Back on Kimochi II, we gathered on the rear deck as the crew served fresh fruit and iced tea. Someone cracked open a Bintang, and we watched the coast of Flores fade into the haze. It wasn’t fancy – no infinity pool or butler service – but it felt honest. We slept to the sound of water slapping the hull and woke without a schedule pressing down.
What stayed with me wasn’t just the wildlife or the views, but the rhythm of the trip. Meals were served on plastic trays, but the food was hot and spicy – sambal on the table at every meal. The safety gear was visible and well-maintained, and the crew moved with quiet efficiency. We didn’t need Wi-Fi or AC. We needed space to stretch out, someone to point at a bird and say ‘that’s a saltwater crocodile warning sign’, and a boat that didn’t rock like a washing machine at night. Kimochi II delivered that.
