About Sea Safari 8
The first morning, I woke before sunrise to the soft clink of rigging and the smell of strong Indonesian coffee drifting up from the galley. The sky was still indigo as we anchored near Wayag, that famous cluster of mossy limestone fingers jutting from the sea. I sat on the foredeck wrapped in a thin blanket, watching the horizon bleed into gold. By the time the sun lifted, the boat was quiet—just the skipper and a deckhand prepping the dinghy. We were the only vessel in the bay.
We spent that first full day island-hopping between Wayag and the Gam Islands. The crew set up a shaded beach picnic on a stretch of white sand so fine it squeaked underfoot—no name marked on any map, just a dot in the itinerary notes. After lunch, we snorkeled at Cape Kri. I counted 17 different reef fish species in one swim, just below the surface. The visibility was easily 20 metres. One of the guides pointed out a tiny pygmy seahorse tucked into coral I’d walked past without noticing.
Sea Safari 8 felt spacious despite only having four cabins. With a max of 26 guests, we never felt crowded, even during meal times. The common deck had deep cushioned loungers, a shaded dining area, and a small prep station where the chef sliced mangoes and limes each morning. Dinner was served family-style—grilled reef fish with turmeric, steamed rice, and sambal so fresh it made my nose tingle. One night, we ate under the stars with only a single lantern swaying overhead.
The second day took us south toward Arborek and the manta cleaning stations near Penemu. The dive team knew the tides—they dropped us in just as the current slowed, and within minutes, three mantas circled below. I floated at the surface, kicking gently, watching their wings slice through the water like shadows. Later, we stopped at Arborek Jetty. The village kids waved from the wooden platform, and a few of us swam over to explore the coral growing beneath the pilings. The boat’s naturalist had told us about the community’s marine sanctuary, and you could see the difference—more fish, more colour.
Our final morning began in the Dampier Strait, where we did a drift snorkel along the edge of the reef near Yenbuba. The water moved fast, but the guides kept formation, two at front, two at back. Afterward, we returned to the boat for a quick breakfast before heading back to Sorong. I spent the last hour on the upper deck, flipping through the underwater photos the staff had printed for guests. No Wi-Fi, no signal—just the hum of the engine and the open sea.
I didn’t expect how quiet it would feel, even with a full boat. The crew moved with calm precision. No shouting, no rush. They knew Raja Ampat wasn’t a checklist—it was a rhythm. And Sea Safari 8 moved with it.
