Satonda Island: A Journey Into the Heart of Mystery and Wonder

 The wooden boat creaked beneath my feet as we approached Satonda Island, its enigmatic silhouette rising from the morning mist like a forgotten world. Standing at the bow, I watched in awe as flying fish skipped across the waves, their silver bodies catching the light of the early sun. Pak Wayan, our captain, a man weathered by years of life at sea, shared hushed stories about the sacred island. “The lake,” he said, his voice tinged with reverence, “holds secrets older than my grandfather’s grandfather.” His words hung in the salty air, stirring both curiosity and respect.

The journey to this remote corner of Indonesia had been arduous, a series of flights, a bone-rattling ride across Sumbawa’s rugged terrain, and this serene boat ride at daw

n. Yet, as the island’s contours grew clearer, I knew the effort had been worthwhile. Satonda is a place where geology and mythology entwine, creating a harmony that feels almost otherworldly.

As our boat rounded the island’s eastern shore, I glimpsed the black-and-white sands marbling the beach, each grain a testament to the island’s fiery volcanic origins. Wading through the crystalline shallows to land, we were greeted by vibrant fish darting around our legs, while sunlight danced on the water’s surface like a scattering of diamonds.

“Watch your step,” Pak Wayan cautioned as we began the ascent towards the island’s crater lake. The trail snaked through a dense, verdant forest alive with the rustle of unseen creatures and the lilting songs of tropical birds. The air was heavy with humidity, infused with the faint, sweet scent of wild orchids. Each pause to catch our breath offered a new perspective a kaleidoscope of blues and greens where the sea kissed the horizon.

Reaching the crater’s rim, I caught my first sight of Satonda’s legendary lake, its turquoise surface gleaming like a mirror to another world. Encased within the volcanic heart of the island, the lake’s saltwater shimmered with a brilliance that seemed to defy nature. “It’s more saline than the ocean,” Pak Wayan explained, “a gift of the great Tambora eruption.” This unique feature, born from destruction, had become the cradle of local lore and scientific fascination alike.

Encircling the lake, I noticed trees bearing not fruit, but countless stones tied with strips of cloth. “These are the wishing trees,” Pak Wayan said with a knowing smile. He described how visitors, drawn by the island’s mystique, tie stones to the branches while making heartfelt wishes. If their dreams come true, tradition demands they return to reclaim the offering. I found myself moved by this ritual, its simplicity echoing the universal human longing for hope and connection. Almost instinctively, I picked up a smooth pebble and added my own wish to the growing tapestry of dreams.

The afternoon passed in a haze of wonder. Snorkelling along Satonda’s reefs, I drifted above coral gardens that seemed plucked from an artist’s palette, vivid purples, fiery oranges, and soft blues. Schools of fish wove around me like living rainbows, while a graceful sea turtle glided past with serene indifference. The juxtaposition of the island’s volcanic edges and its teeming underwater life was mesmerising, a reminder of nature’s power to create beauty from chaos.

As the day waned, I found myself drawn back to the crater lake. Alone on its shores, I watched as the sinking sun painted the water in hues of gold and amber. The air was still, the moment timeless. I understood then why the island is considered sacred, a place where the tangible and intangible coexist, offering a sense of peace that transcends words.

When it was time to leave, I lingered at the water’s edge, reluctant to let go of the serenity that had settled within me. As our boat pulled away, Satonda receded into the twilight, its mysteries intact. Pak Wayan, usually full of stories, sat quietly at the helm, his silence speaking volumes. When our eyes met, he nodded, a gesture of shared understanding.

That night, as we crossed the starlit waters back to Sumbawa, I thought about the power of places like Satonda, places that leave an imprint on the soul. My stone remains tied to one of the wishing trees, a quiet promise to return. Whether or not I ever reclaim it, Satonda has already given me something far greater: a reminder of the profound beauty that lies in listening to the world’s whispered secrets and embracing the wonder of the unknown.