About Leyla
The first thing I noticed was the smell of warm teak and salt air. I stepped out onto Leyla’s deck just after dawn, wrapped in a thin blanket from the cabin, and watched golden light spill over Kelor’s green slope. The skipper was already on the bow, pointing at a ripple in the channel – a juvenile blacktip reef shark cruising the tide line. It wasn’t some staged moment; it just happened, quietly, before breakfast even started. That set the tone for the whole trip: real, unforced, and constantly surprising.
We spent the first afternoon at Menjerite, a tiny island with a curved beach that feels like it was drawn for postcards. The water was cool and clear enough to see every pebble underfoot. I snorkeled along the outer edge where the current picked up and found a school of batfish stacked like silver coins. That evening, we ate grilled mahi-mahi and spicy sambal on deck, the boat gently rocking as the sun dropped behind Padar. There were eleven of us – six guests, five crew – and the layout never felt cramped, even when everyone was on deck watching the sky turn purple.
Day two began with a bone-rattling ride to Padar before sunrise. The hike up is steep, but the view from the top at first light – those jagged ridges cutting through morning mist – was worth every breath. We descended to the beach below, the sand still cool underfoot, then motored to Komodo Island for the ranger-guided dragon walk. One of the big males crossed the path just ahead of us, tail dragging, jaws slightly open. That afternoon was pure fun: swimming at Pink Beach, where the sand really does glow pink in certain light, then floating above Manta Point, watching shadows glide beneath us. Two mantas circled close enough to see the spots on their bellies.
Our last full day started early with a run to Taka Makassar. The sandbar was already forming as we arrived, stretching like a pale tongue between turquoise zones. We swam out to where the current swirled and saw a green turtle grazing on seagrass. Kanawa was quieter, with coral visible from the surface. The skipper anchored in the lee of the island and we spent an hour just drifting, fins kicking lazily. Back on Leyla, someone opened a Bintang, and we passed around fresh pineapple slices as the engine hummed us toward Labuan Bajo. No loud music, no rush – just a slow glide across a mirror-flat sea.
Leyla’s single cabin is compact but smartly built. Twin beds with firm mattresses, a small ventilation window that opens to sea level, and a private ensuite with cold-water pressure shower. Storage was tight – I had to leave my dry bag under the lower bunk – but the crew kept the space spotless. Common areas felt generous: the shaded aft deck for cards and naps, the forward lounging area perfect for sunrise coffee. The crew moved quietly, anticipating needs without hovering. One night, they laid out mats on the upper deck so we could sleep under the stars – a detail no one asked for, but everyone loved.
