I sat on the weathered grey wood planks of our deck outside our over-water bungalow. The water lapped gently on the shore behind me. Birds trilled and whistled from the mangroves to my left. From my right, music drifted over the water, coming from the village of Sawinggrai. Heather was snorkeling out in front, getting reacquainted with the house reef. We had just arrived an hour ago at the Mandarin Homestay, on the island of Gam, in Raja Ampat. For a time, it seemed that we might never get here. This had been the centerpiece of our winter season travels. Back in the summer of 2018, we booked a ten-day live-aboard trip for snorkelers, as well as planning an additional two weeks visiting other areas of the province, including a return to Mandarin, our favorite homestay from a year ago. Due to my health issues back in Java, and the need to take it easy for a couple weeks until I got the ‘all clear’ from my follow-up doctor’s visit, we had to cut our Raja time down by a week. Getting to Sorong, the jumping off point for all things Raja, takes planning, patience and a bit of luck under the best of circumstances. The only flights to Sorong, at least from Bali, where we had been up until two days ago, go through Makassar, on Sulawesi, and don’t continue on to Sorong until 3 am, for reasons that aren’t too clear to me. Arriving in Makassar at 7 pm, we had eight hours to kill. Fortunately, there’s a decent, and cheap, hotel right in the terminal. We opted to splurge for a room for the layover, get a little sleep, wake up at midnight and return to the terminal. It went according to plan until we checked out at 12 and walked through the security checkpoint, only to find the flight was now leaving at 4 am. Okay, no big deal. We sat at the gate until 4:30 when they announced the new departure time would be 9:15 am. “Let’s go back to the hotel, see if we can get back into the room and get some more rest” Heather suggested. Unfortunately, the front desk told us the room had already been cleaned (at 4:30 in the morning!?) and wouldn’t let us back in. So, back to the terminal to sit for another five hours. Finally, at 9:30, the flight was cancelled. So we were going to miss another day in Raja Ampat. Luckily, we were rebooked on the next morning’s flight, got another room at the airport hotel, and went back to sleep. That night everything went according to plan – the flight left on time, we got a taxi from the airport to the harbor, got a ferry ticket to Waisai (the capital of Raja Ampat, on the island of Waigeo, where homestay transportation meets you), met Akes, the owner of Mandarin Homestay, and, after an hour boat ride, I was sitting on that deck. Thank God for perseverance. It sure feels good to finally return somewhere you’ve been dreaming about from the moment you left it last.

Life at Mandarin, and Raja Ampat in general, is slow-paced, to say the least, and totally focused on water activity. Waking at sunrise, I make my way to the hammocks in front of our bedroom, which occupies half of our wood-floored, bamboo-walled and thatch-roofed bungalow. The other half is a covered lounge area, with two hammocks, a drying line and a table. A few small boats pass through the channel separating Gam, where we are, and the island of Mansour, a couple miles distant. The birds make the only noise I can hear. After an hour, I stroll the path through the village, passing small groups of children, dressed in their red and white uniforms, heading to school. Most say ‘hello’, and I in turn greet them. Returning to the bungalow, Heather has stirred, so I go to the dining hut and prepare a mug of instant coffee to bring to her. After silently (she’s not much of a talker until that first coffee is downed) watching the morning unfold, it’s breakfast time. Akes’ mother has prepared pancakes for us, and a small army it seems, though we are the only guests in the five bungalows they operate. Along with the pancakes is a plate of bananas and oranges to round out our meal. Stuffed, we return to our hammocks and wait for the tide to come up so we can get out for our first snorkel of the day. This becomes the rhythm of our days. Wake, hammock time, eat, snorkel, hammock time, eat, snorkel, hammock . . . you get the picture. Other days we arrange with Akes to take us by boat to incredible snorkel sites around Gam. One day we visit Manta Point, where we snorkel with a half-dozen manta rays. The giant beasts glide effortlessly against the current, mouths agape, scooping up plankton and small jellyfish. At times we seem to be right in their path, but they always swoop away before getting too close. After a couple more times drifting with the current through a deep channel to view the mantas again, we travel further west to Arborek Island. There we snorkel around the village jetty, which is encrusted with colorful soft corals. The tube sponges in brilliant yellow, orange and purple are particularly impressive. Giant clams are also spotted here, some spanning over two feet in width. After another encounter with the mantas on the way home we happily fall into our hammocks to await Akes’ call for us to have lunch. After an afternoon snorkel on the house reef, we relax on the deck to watch sunset, devour dinner (like lunch, and all lunches and dinners, it consists of fish, a vegetable dish and steamed white rice), then retire to read for an hour before our eyes grow heavy and sleep overtakes us.

The next day we’re on the boat once again, heading to the small, uninhabited island of Yeben. But, fortunately, Manta Point is on the way, and once again, it doesn’t disappoint. Reluctantly, we wave goodbye to the remaining mantas and climb aboard the boat to make our way to the island. It’s ringed by gleaming white sand, with a shallow lagoon at it’s eastern side. We head out to snorkel the reef wall at the edge of the lagoon while Akes and his boatman cut dry branches to make a fire, over which they’ll grill whole fish for our lunch on the beach when we return. The snorkeling is, once again, spectacular. We can barely tear ourselves away to return to the beach, but are rewarded with the smell of freshly barbecued fish, along with vegetables and rice that Mama had prepared earlier.

To top off a perfect day, Akes agrees to stop at Manta Point once again on the way home. This time we are stunned to see eleven magnificent mantas surround us when we enter the water. They glide, roll, flap their wings and entertain us for several minutes. Finally, when they move off, we lift our heads and hoot and holler, unable to control our excitement. We linger a bit longer, floating in deep water, waiting for more. Some of the mantas return, in ones and twos, making more passes by us. After several more minutes it seems they’ve moved on, and we climb back on board the boat and return home. Somehow, the sunset seems a little better that evening, perhaps because it’s viewed through wide eyes and with huge smiles. Our last day takes us across the channel to Cape Kri, where we drift across a deep reef, spotting black-tipped reef sharks and a large turtle. This is followed by a drift across a shallower portion of the reef, where we’re able to spot smaller fishes. We travel along the southern shore of Kri to it’s neighbor Mansour and tie up at the Yenbuba village jetty. Snorkeling the area of the jetty we see schools of large batfish, unicorn fish, three turtles and a couple reef sharks, along with the abundance of soft corals on the pilings. As a special treat, and owing to the receding tide, Akes takes us out to a white sand tidal flat just off Kri’s eastern side. We stroll the hundred feet of exposed sand, gaze at the chain of other sandy patches stretching off to Pulau Roti (Bread Island, so-called because of it’s similar profile to the beloved sweet buns the locals are so fond of)), marvel at the crystal-clear water and take so many selfies it’s like we’re a couple of Japanese schoolgirls. Once again we return home, not saying much, lost in our own thoughts of five amazing days filled with underwater wonders.