Floating along the Flores Sea for five days, one has to brave a lot more than just Indonesian suntan. Jeremy Jowell survived a storm and encountered a dragon...

The kamikaze bus driver cackles with glee as we career down the twisting mountain roads of Lombok. Sitting up front, I've got a grandstand view of death. Our daredevil driver has overtaken a motorbike and a two-ton truck is hurtling down on us. The left lane is blocked by traffic and there’s no way out. At the last possible second, he swerves sharply off the road, skidding to a stop in the sand.
Two Irish girls sitting at the back of the bus are not handling the madness too well. "He has to stop driving like this," one of them whispers, close to tears. "Last week on Sumatra, our taxi went out of control, rolled several times and then while we were trapped inside, onlookers stole our packs. I don't feel like it happening again," she cries.
I've joined a group of travellers, heading across the Indonesian island of Lombok, to begin a five day boat trip to Flores. Everyone's looking forward to the sun and a sighting of the famous Komodo dragon. But right now, we're stuck on a bus ride from hell with a driver who seems intent on suicide.
The winding rutted road curves through thick green jungle. White-whiskered monkeys perched on stones stare at us. On either side of the road, waterlogged rice paddies stretch into the distance. The lushness of Lombok overpowers me.
We crest the Pusuk Pass and begin a hair-raising descent into the jungle. There's time for a short stop in a village to collect dinner - six live chickens tied together by their feet. Then onwards along the mud road towards Mataram. We somehow avoid a hundred head-on collisions and arrive in town where a melee of motorbikes, kombis and bicycles converge from all sides.
Our journey continues on to the eastern port of Labuhan Lombok where we board our boat, the KLM Wisuda, for our five-day adventure. The ocean route across the region of Nusa Tenggara will take us along the northern shore of Sumbawa, past the islands of Komodo and Rinca, before reaching the west coast of Flores.
Leaving the sheltered waters of the port, we begin to rock and roll on the choppy sea. Our guide, Efree Buana, welcomes everyone warmly as we wobble around on landlubber legs. It's time to kick back and relax on our Indonesian home so everyone slaps on suncream and passes out on deck.
Friendships soon develop among our mixed bag of nations and we all mix comfortably as one. First stop is Gili Bola where we dive overboard for a quick snorkel before the sun sinks into the liquid horizon. Supper that night consists of boiled rice and fried noodles with a concoction resembling vegetables. Not even liberal splashings of ketchup and Indonesian soya sauce give it any taste.
It's a warm night so I roll out my sleeping bag on the open deck. A silver glow circles the crescent moon, adrift in a star-studded sky. Suddenly, thin fleecy clouds roll in and block out the view. It looks like we're in for rain. But then as quickly as they appeared, the clouds vanish over silhouetted Sumbawa.
Sounds travel in the still night. While distant dogs on the mainland howl at the moon, we sway softly side to side, enjoying the warm evening air. Surrounded by ancient volcanoes and the shimmering sea, it feels like we're caught in the cradle of civilisation. Encircled by water and fire.

As the first faint stirrings of dawn appear on the horizon, I wake to the straining engine and billowing black smoke. We're going nowhere. Efree has started the boat but it's low tide and we're stuck on a reef.
"Please, please, you all come down below," he announces, waking us quickly. "The boat is too heavy up this side." Groggily we stumble down the step ladder and watch as our captain and his crew splash around in knee deep water. Thirty minutes later, we're sailing again.
With daybreak imminent, sleep is no longer an option. In the distance, purple peaks begin to appear from the black sky. Fleecy patches of pink and violet clouds cut across the dawn sky. Then in a brilliant burst of light, the warm sun washes over us.
As we float along the Flores Sea, we don't have a worry in the world. We stop to snorkel near the mainland of Sumbawa where a fresh water lake from the Moyo Forest runs into the sea. The coral in the vicinity is breathtaking. Underwater gardens sparkle invitingly with multicoloured sponges and ferns flapping in the current. Small brilliant fish dart around the reef. Below me, angel fish swim serenely in pairs. My snorkelling partner beckons to me quickly. "I've just seen two sharks over there," he shouts excitedly, pulling the snorkel from his mouth. "White-tipped reef sharks, about two metres long, nothing to worry about."
I've never been near a shark in the water before but instead of the anxiety I always imagined I would feel in such a situation, there's no fear. Turning my back on the safety of the shore, I swim further out to scan the depths. There's no familiar fin and I'm disappointed not to catch sight of the cruising creatures.
The hours drift effortlessly by. Lying on deck, I feel a strange affection for my sailing companions. I hardly know them yet somehow feel connected, as we cruise the Indonesian ocean.

That night is another stunning sunset. The golden orb plays hide and seek with the clouds, then dips behind the hills in a dazzling display of light. Suddenly the storm hits. Dark banks of cloud have built up and the sea is looking ominous. A lightning bolt cracks down, then thick sheets of rain lash us with a venomous fury. The wind whips up ten foot swells that send our vessel lurching precariously on its side.
"Have you sailed in seas bigger than this?" I ask our captain nervously, seeking some reassurance from the man in charge. "Yes .. but not much," replies Efree solemnly. Mattresses and bags are flung below as everyone rushes for cover, drenched by the rain and spray.
The weather worsens and our boat begins to do the Mexican wave. We're pitching violently in all directions and someone cracks a Titanic joke. To ward off the fear and a rising sensation of sea-sickness, we all start to sing. Any old tune to forget about the predicament facing us. Efree brings out supper but no-one's really in the mood for food. Besides, the dishes have already slid to the other end of the boat.
The rollercoaster ride intensifies and our boat begins to sway like a pendulum. Huddled together for warmth and comfort, we abandon ourselves to the elements. Twelve hours later, it's all over. We've survived .. but it's been a night we won't forget.

The sea is still rough and after another day of sailing, we arrive at an oasis of calm. Home for the night is a sheltered cove offshore a deserted island where we relax in the serenity of a perfect evening. Not a breath of wind, just the tranquil ocean and gentle lapping of the sea. High above, shooting stars streak across the sky. "This is really a delicious night," says our Japanese friend, Takashi-San, as he swigs slowly from a bottle of vodka.
The next morning before sunrise, four of us set out to climb the small mountain on the island. The ascent is steep and we reach the top gasping for breath. But it's worth it as the view from here is magificent. In an explosion of gold, the sun bursts through the mist, softly lighting our sleeping boat below.
It's a short sail to the home of the dragon and we reach Komodo Island by lunch.
Komodo is a desolate island between Sumbawa and Flores. The waters around the island are some of the most dangerous in Indonesia with strong currents and whirlpools aplenty. As Lonely Planet puts it: "from the sea, it looks a far more fitting habitat for a monstrous lizard than for the few hundred people who live in the island's lone village."
Komodo, along with Rinca Island, comprises the Komodo National Park. Komodo dragons, or "ora" as they're locally known, are found nowhere else in the world. These giant monitor lizards grow up to three metres long, can weigh as much as 200 kg and are Nusa Tenggara's most famous tourist attraction.
Although clumsy looking, these monitors have powerful legs that enable them to sprint for short distances. They're also at home in the water and with sharp teeth, dagger-like claws and a potentially lethal tail, the "ora", if threatened, can be a killing machine.
But the dragon is well on the way to becoming an endangered species. Each year, the jagawanas (forest rangers) conduct a detailed survey of their famous friends. To obtain accurate records, they bait locations with dead goats and count the number of dragons attracted to the carrion. In 1994, their numbers were set at 1 000. At the last count, the population of this protected species had dwindled to just 600.
We're off in search of the dragon. It's a half hour walk through the oppressive heat to Banu Nggulung, a dry riverbed a few kilometres inland. "You see these holes in the sand wall," says Nasrul our guide, "we call them 'dragon hotels' - it's where the 'ora' sleep at night."
Komodo dragons are fully carnivorous. The smaller lizards feed on frogs and birds while the giants feast on deer, wild pigs, the occasional water buffalo and even other dead dragons. But their diet also occasionally includes humans. Over the years, eight locals and one tourist have ended up on the dragon's dish. "The foreigner who the 'ora' ate was a Swiss man who went off walking by himself," says Nasrul. "All that was found of him was his camera and sunglasses."
The midday heat is stifling and it's no surprise to find the slumbering giants sluggish in the shade of a tree. I approach to within a few metres and the beady eyes stare curiously at my camera and tripod. A quick flick of his yellow tongue warns me to keep my distance.

Next stop on our ocean odyssey is Pantai Mera (Red Beach), a coral island off Komodo. The reefs are crystal clear and the marine life is easily visible through the turquoise water. Thousands of fish, all colours, shapes and sizes, dazzle us with their beauty.
We sail on towards remote Rinca Island. It's late afternoon and as we approach, we're treated to a sight most people only dream about. Easing through the mirror-like sea, a pod of dolphins dance alongside the boat. Then very gracefully, they arc out to sea in slow circles, following the sunset line.
On these dragon-infested islands, it's like taking a walk in Jurassic Park. Always on the lookout for monsters. We walk between thick mangrove trees, brushing away the dense undergrowth. A few wild pigs welcome us, then bolt off into the bush. A green canopy of palm trees towers above and we continue the climb through a cactus field.
We reach the hilltop and stop to admire the view over rugged Rinca, our boat a small spot in the blue bay below. Walking back, one of our group has a close encounter of the smelly kind. He steps ankle-deep into a steaming pile of buffalo dung.

Our adventure on the high seas is almost over. This afternoon we will reach the small fishing town of Labuanbajo, on the extreme western tip of Flores. I plan to spend a few days photographing the village's friendly folk before travelling east across the island to explore traditional villages and climb volcanoes.
There's just enough time for a final snorkel at the sandy cove of Bidadari followed by one more inedible lunch of rice and boiled vegetables. The chickens, who have spent the past five days starving in a small basket at the back of the boat, are finally put in the pot. In their skinny state, they don't add much to our tasteless food. But no-one seems to mind. By this stage of the trip, we're too relaxed to let the lack of food bother us. Besides, there's grilled fish and chicken satay just a few hours away.