About Leticia
I remember standing on the foredeck just after 6:30, the air still warm but the crew already moving with quiet purpose. The sun had dipped behind Padar Island, painting the cliffs in soft gold, and Leticia was easing back toward open water. No rush, no shouted orders—just a few murmured exchanges between the captain and deckhand as they slipped the mooring line. That moment, more than any brochure image, told me this wasn’t a conveyor-belt cruise. This was a boat that understood the pulse of Komodo’s tides.
Leticia is 29 metres of well-kept Phinisi lines, not the largest in the fleet but balanced in a way that feels steady even in the Banda Sea’s chop. Her eight cabins sleep up to 25, but on our 3D2N run, we had just 16 guests. The split between Master, Deluxe, and Superior categories isn’t just price-driven—it’s about placement. The Master Cabins, Hanoman and Arjuna, sit aft with private access and slightly wider portholes that catch the morning light. The Deluxe cabins—Drupadi, Pandawa, Aswatama, Kurawa—are midship, quieter underway. The Superior cabins, Nakula Sadewa and Dawala Badranaya, are compact but well-ventilated, ideal if you’re spending most of your time in the water.
Our days followed a clean rhythm. Day one began with landing at Kelor Island by 15:30—short hike, panoramic view, then a sunset swim in water so clear you could see every pebble shift under the current. Next morning, Padar at dawn. We anchored in the bay, scrambled up the dry trail in near-darkness, and reached the saddle just as the first light spilled over the jagged ridges. By 9 a.m., we were at Komodo Island, rangers in place, tracking dragons through the scrub. The afternoon was Pink Beach—yes, the sand is genuinely pink—and then Manta Point, where two reef mantas circled the bow for ten minutes, close enough to see the scars and patterns on their backs.
Day three was Taka Makassar—white sandbar, water waist-deep in every direction—followed by a final snorkel at Kanawa, where the coral shelves drop sharply and the current brings in small reef sharks. Leticia’s crew timed our return to Labuan Bajo to avoid the worst of the afternoon ferry traffic. No one mentioned it, but I noticed the chef had saved the spiced banana fritters for the final morning, served with thick local coffee as we passed the harbour buoys.
What stood out wasn’t luxury for luxury’s sake. It was the crew’s instinct for pacing—when to keep quiet during a mantas’ pass, when to offer cold towels after a hike, how to serve lunch early if the next anchorage was exposed. The indoor-outdoor lounge worked exactly as intended: shaded table for cards in the heat, open deck behind for starwatching after dinner. No frills, no over-the-top gestures—just a boat that knew its job.
