Lost at Misool Island

Wet, Wild & Wobbly: Our Misool Adventures

Oh, I was buzzing that we were stopping by Misool Island on our way to Sorong. Misool’s already part of Raja Ampat and one of the four King Islands in the area. Bit of a mission to get there, though — either a 3-hour speedboat that’ll set you back at least $500 or a delightful 16-hour night ferry once a week. That said, they’ve just added a second ferry to lure in more tourists, and there’s even talk of a water plane. Fancy!

It’s got the best diving in all of Raja Ampat — but definitely for experienced divers only. The currents are strong, and you’ll likely need your own gear, dive computer and all that jazz. But even if diving’s not your thing, the place is absolutely unreal!

Now, our first anchorage on the west coast of Misool was… meh. Great for the boat, sure, but the whole place looked like a crocodile’s Airbnb. None of us dared to jump in for a swim. Mark and I were knackered anyway, having done the night watch, so we slept through half the day.

Next morning, we kicked things off early and headed south — where all the fun stuff lives. Picture an archipelago with world-class snorkelling, diving, jellyfish lakes, hikes — the lot. But, in true us-style, we sort of bypassed all that looking for a decent anchorage and ended up more east, closer to the mainland.

Still epic and breathtaking though! The moment we dropped anchor, we were off exploring. Found a pier that led to a sketchy climb up to a viewpoint called Puncak Dafalen — or Puncak Love, because of the heart-shaped lake below. The stairs? Questionable. Missing steps, wobbly bits — full “what could go wrong” energy. Halfway up we were on all fours, clinging to hope and dodgy railings.

At the top? Absolutely worth the risk to life and limb. Shame it was cloudy though — the heart shape wasn’t super obvious at first, and you had to scramble up a steep, slippery gravel slope just to get the full view. Not exactly health and safety approved. Would I do this hike again, absolutely! Words can not describe how beautiful this place is.

Back at the dinghy, we kept cruising around and even had a yarn with a local homestay nearby. These places are wild — perched right over the water with nothing around but towering rock formations. No roads, no shops, just pure castaway vibes.

The next day, off we went again in the dinghy to scout an exit route for tomorrow, plus a bit more exploring — and hello dolphins! But the real highlight was climbing another peak we’d spotted on Google Maps — Puncak Harfat, or Harfat Peak (bit of a theme here).

It was low tide, so we had to lift the outboard and paddle in. These stairs were a dream compared to the last death trap. Well-maintained, not too steep, and we even had a cracking view of the Boat as we climbed.

Halfway up, a massive black cloud started charging at us. Just before the top, a tour guide with two tourists passed us on their way down and said, “You’ve got five minutes before the rain hits.” Lies. We had about 30 seconds. Just enough time to snap one photo on the viewing platform before it bucketed down. Five minutes, we wished.

Everything got stuffed into the dry bag — absolute lifesaver in Indonesia. Forget your cute daypack; it rains buckets here. The last bit of the trail turned into a muddy slip ‘n slide. On the way back down, we saw the dinghy was back on the Boat — the skipper who had waited in the dinghy had ditched us to wait out the rain in style. Smart.

So, we huddled under a massive rock formation like soggy meerkats. No idea why — we were already drenched, but it felt better than standing in open monsoon. The rain finally let up a bit and the dinghy came back for us. Only problem? Our wet jandals turned into skis on those stairs, so we ditched them and went barefoot like jungle hippies.

Back on board, the skipper made us strip off before going inside — which sounds sexier than it was. Just a bunch of wet, cold adventurers trying to avoid a wet boat? The crew went off for another mission that afternoon, but we noped out. Dry clothes and a nap sounded better. Plus, we were a bit far from the better snorkelling spots and jellyfish lake anyway, so for once it didn’t feel like we were missing out.

The next morning, we set off for Sorong. We stopped overnight in a little channel so we wouldn’t arrive in the evening (wise move). Then, just a few more hours to Sorong — but instead of heading straight into the marina we’d booked for the next five weeks (while the crew went home), we anchored outside. Apparently, we’d only booked it from the next day. Honestly, we could’ve squeezed in one more day in Misool, but no last-minute shenanigans on here.

Once docked, we anchored with stern lines in the marina, meaning we had to dinghy to shore each time — a whopping 20 metres away. A wee bridge would’ve been handy… but Raja Ampat’s got a massive rat problem, and apparently a bridge would just roll out the red carpet for them. So now all the ropes have rat fenders, and we paddle and pull us to shore.