About King Neptune
The first thing I noticed wasn’t the polished teak or the silent air-con kicking in as I stepped aboard—it was the way the crew timed the departure from Labuan Bajo’s outer harbour. We slipped past the fishing boats at 15:47, just as the light began to soften over Bajo’s concrete rooftops, and within twenty minutes, the mainland had dissolved into a haze behind us. King Neptune, fresh from its 2024 launch, wasn’t showing off; it was simply doing what a well-run vessel should—moving us smoothly toward Menjerite without fuss, the bow cutting a steady wake through the current.
By 17:30, we were anchored in the lee of Menjerite Island, the smaller sister to Kelor, with the afternoon sun casting long shadows across the coral slopes. The dive team had already prepped the gear, but what stood out was their precision: tanks were laid with regulators facing the same direction, weights clipped and labelled. I slipped into the water just before sunset, and in the golden slant, a pair of emperor fish hovered near a bommie as reef sharks glided into the blue. Back on deck, a chilled local pale ale appeared without being asked—small things, but they layered into trust.
Day two began at 05:10 with a warm towel and a thermos of strong coffee handed to me on the upper deck. We’d anchored off Padar in the dark, and now the eastern ridge was catching fire. The hike isn’t long, but the view from the top—three bays fanning out in different shades of turquoise—is the kind that rewires your sense of scale. By 08:30, we were on Komodo Island itself, where the rangers led us single-file through the dry savannah. The dragons weren’t performing; one lounged under a tree, barely blinking as a juvenile snapped at a passing gecko. No forced encounters, just observation.
Lunch was served on the shaded aft deck: seared tuna with sambal matah, papaya salad, and grilled corn. The galley works fast but never feels frantic. Afternoon brought us to Pink Beach, where we had the cove to ourselves for nearly an hour. The sand’s hue comes from foraminifera, but in the midday light, it looks like someone spilled crushed coral across the shoreline. Then, a quick transit to Manta Point—this one near Batu Bolong—where within minutes, two large mantas circled the bow, their mouths open, feeding in the current. I hung in the water, mask half-flooded, just watching.
Final day, we woke to the sound of the anchor chain again, this time heading west toward Taka Makassar. The sandbar emerges at low tide like a mirage, and we waded out, the water so still it reflected the sky like glass. Then Kanawa, where the reef drops off sharply—snorkeling here feels like floating over a cliff edge. By 13:00, we were back on board, drying off as the crew served fresh coconut and sliced pineapple. The return to Labuan Bajo took just under two hours, long enough to flip through photos and realise how little I’d checked my phone. There was no Wi-Fi, no need for it.
