Kanawa

Nemofish in the anemone

We've spent the last few days moored off Kanawa Island, a small atoll that lies between the large islands of Flores and Komodo, on the edge of the Komodo National Park. There's a small resort here, using the term loosely: a dozen or so small, rustic bungalows, an open-sided dive "shop," and a slightly larger open-sided, concrete-floored shelter that serves as a combination dining room and reception area. The reef rolls around the southern side of the island, where the resort is situated, and boasts an amazing array of corals, fish, and, at the end of a ramshackle 100-yard pier built on wooden sticks and with planks that have seen better days, a small colony of lionfish.

Lionfish resting in coral

These lionfish are florid creatures, boasting translucent, brown-and-white striped fins jutting our every which way, accented with whiskers and spikes that fill the spaces in between. In water, they hover, twist and turn, and their combination of fins, spikes and body create a ball that can run from a few inches in diameter for the young ones to over a foot in diameter for the adults. An exotic example of the life force in these reefs, where the cold waters of the Indian Ocean mix with the warm waters of the Flores Sea on a twice-daily basis.

The resort is owned by a small consortium of Italian investors, one of whom, Max, lives on the island - he's battling a case of typhoid fever right now, likely picked up in the nearby main town of Labuan Bajo - literally, "boat harbor of the Bajo people," the Bajo being one of the many Indonesian cultures/peoples that migrated around and into these islands. The dive shop was started a few months ago by Ed and Marie, and Englishman and Swede, respectively, who met years ago as they pursued their divemaster certificates, and then, after time in various global diving hotspots, decided to set up a business here on the island.

On their 40' wooden boat powered by two single-piston Chinese diesels, and measuring just a scant 10 feet in beam, we spent two days diving 6 sites in the Komodo National Park. We fell asleep last night delightfully exhausted - and in awe at the sheer variety, quantity, and quality of the reefs in this part of the world. We have dived many sites in our Pacific crossing, but we both agree that none can compare with these.

Komodo's mixture of warm and cool water creates ideal fish/coral conditons

The prototypical Komodo dive is a pinnacle dive - where the boat drops you in the lee of a large rock jutting up from a deep bottom. The tidal currents swirl around these rocks - to the point where, if you aren't careful, you'll be swept out to sea or, worse, down deep - and create a regularly-replenished feeding ground for fish of all sizes, marine animals of all sorts, and hard and soft corals of all types. The other two types - a channel drift dive, and a wall dive - are also common here, but we began our two days of diving on Castle Rock and Crystal Rock. Dropping into the water, we sank into the lee of Castle Rock, a rocky spike that lies awash at low tide. Splayed out in front of us, against the rising column, swam schools of bright yellow and blue fish, thousands turning one way and then the other, in silent synchrony. Swimming through them, with Jennifer at one point nearly invisible in their midst, we faced a wall of hard and soft corals whose diversity brought Darwin's evolutionary theories to mind: nature will try everything once, twice if it works.

Komodo corals

I imagine a King Neptune of old, considering petitions from various coral developers, as they pitched their ideas: "How about a coral that juts 10 meters horizontally from the wall, but less than an inch in diameter, and punctuated with bands of blue?" "Go for it!" ... "How about a mustard-yellow soft coral, patterned on the leaves and stalks of a cauliflower, and swaying gently in the current?" "Why not?!" ... "Can I try out a purple rose concept, with diaphanous leaves that look like tissue paper?" "Have a go!"

Frog Fish

The animal life was equally exotic - at one point we saw a thin worm-like eel, about 1/2" in diameter and about a foot long, with a brilliant blue body tinged with iridescent yellow, swaying in the current, opening and closing its ovaloid mouth, its eyes on two protruding bulbs above its mouth. Neither the divemaster nor we had ever seen anything like it. On another dive, we saw the strange and rare frogfish, a fish that can't swim but instead hops along on prehensile feet; it was wedged against a bit of wall coral, unmoving, unwilling perhaps to let go for fear of falling.

Moray ee

Each dive brought new sights and experiences - the usual run of sharks, large pelagic fish, turtles, anemones, sponges, moray eels, tropical fish in schools that defy enumeration - but at the beginning of one deeper dive, where we ducked under a large overhanging shelf about 70 feet below the surface, Jennifer had a rare find indeed. Tucked into the interstices of a large sea fan, hidden deep against the dark underside of the overhang, our divemaster coaxed a pygmy seahorse into view. Barely bigger than a thumbnail, this tiny sea horse lives in the sea fan itself, using the webbing of the coral to snare enough plankton and the like for its food. Jennifer had mentioned to me a number of times her desire to see a seahorse - here was a rare sub-species, invisible to all but the knowing eye.

We feel lucky to have spent time here, at the Kanawa Island resort, diving with Ed and Marie, and Peter, the Indonesian divemaster who seems to know just where the pygmy seahorses hide. Tomorrow, we have some boat work - time to pay the piper - and then on Thursday, our 27th wedding anniversary, we sail over to Komodo Island and take a guided hike to see the legendary Komodo Dragons. It's mating season, so their attentions are elsewhere, but we still need a guide; there are regular reports of attacks on unwary humans. We'll be careful out there. Nature has a way of surprising you.

Jon and Jennifer -- Diving Komodo Islands