Lombok never did go through the madcap tourist transformation like Bali. Maybe because its rugged savannah landscape lacks the lush verdancy of its neighbour. What it makes up for, as naturalist and spiritualist A.R. Wallace discovered a century ago, is a eco-treasure trove found nowhere else, fed by multiple ocean currents, and the rich volcanic soils from the majestic of Mt. Agung.

In the furthest reaches south east of the island, there are few travelers, mostly love birds seeking some operatic moments. But rewind to the 1940’s, and the strum und drang was writ large.

During the second world war, it was the far flung marine check point for the Japanese navy. Just as the waters along the Alas Straits welcomed manta rays, whales, bluefins, it’s also a causeway for submarine sea caves harbouring canyons for Allied attacks.

Things are quieter now. I must have read at least six books in three days here. The clean waters, and confluence of calm currents, are a haven for pearl fishers, harvesting those famous south sea black pearls. And at sundown, there’s always time for bonding over a friendly soccer break.