TIRRING IN MY HAMMOCK JUST before sunrise, I listen to the distant calls to prayer drifting over the bay and echoing between nearby mountains. Boat motors start to cough and splutter, puttering off from the port of Labuan Bajo through the glassy seas surrounding the island of Flores, Indonesia. While the soft morning light reflects from the wooden decks of nearby fishermen’s boats, I too bound into action. With bare feet, sarong, mask and snorkel, I head dockside to banter with some local skippers and find Captain Ferdi sitting with his unused
