Reconnecting With My Old Boat Crew in Labuan Bajo

So there I was, back in Labuan Bajo, the bustling little port that’s now equal parts tourist circus and yacht hub. I was in work mode, here to inspect a few yachts about to sign CA charter agreements with our company.

Things were ticking along as expected, until I saw a very familiar silhouette bobbing quietly in the anchorage.

It was her. My beloved ex. No, not a person (although arguably more reliable): the MSV Katharina, a beautiful wooden phinisi schooner I used to work on as a crew member. Katharina was more than just an old workplace. She was home. Floating, creaking, slightly chaotic home.

The Surprise Call (and the Half-Asleep Captain)

Naturally, I video-called the captain. Within two seconds, he picked up, squinting, clearly yanked from a deep nap. He rubbed his eyes, grinned, and insisted I had to come on board.

Who was I to say no?

So I asked the dinghy driver from one of our CA yachts to give me a lift. "To Katharina, please," I said, trying to sound cool and nonchalant, but inside, I was a mess of excitement.

A Lukman Welcome

Before I even stepped aboard, Lukman, one of the marine engineers, was waiting at the bottom of the stairs.

He greeted me with a sarcastic, "Eh, look who washed ashore." We hugged like long-lost siblings.

Now, here's some juicy backstory: Lukman and I didn’t exactly start off as BFFs. We butted heads over little things.

One time, the Captain literally had to step in and physically separate the two of us apart because our bickering was this close to turning into a physical altercation (read: I had my closed fist traveling halfway to Lukman’s face before Captain yanked my hand away).

Classic workplace stuff.

Somehow, though, we went from sworn frenemies to a legendary duo with inside "fart" jokes that made zero sense to anyone else.

So when I told him I was resigning, he was so upset he started punching a throw pillow in the saloon, a reaction I never would’ve imagined back when we were at each other’s throats.

The warmest reunion

Then the rest of the crew started showing up, one by one. There were hugs, laughs, the usual light teasing, and even a few misty eyes.

Then came Mas Bayu, the kind-hearted soul who always reminded me to keep my cool when guests went full diva. He hugged me tightly and said he’s been including me in his prayers. I nearly cried. Mas Bayu is the type of guy you listen to when he gives advice because he's always right.

But wait. Frans (our Chief Stew) and Mading (deckhand and professional napper) were missing. I knew exactly where to find them.

I crept down to the crew cabins, flung open Mading’s curtain and yelled, "Stop watching porn!" He was, in fact, sleeping (as I suspected), but woke up with blood-red eyes and a smile.

"You’re so loud, I could hear your voice all the way from Bali," he croaked. We fist-bumped.

Frans, of course, was in full hibernation mode. Rocking him awake was like trying to wake a log. Normally, he’d mutter something grumpy under his breath. Instead of launching into his usual half-awake swearing spree, he smiled. Smiled! Then he said he missed me.

I had to pinch myself, he’s not usually this mellow to me.

Chicken, Chatter, and the Crew That Feels Like Family

We ended up in the dining area which, to be clear, never happens when there are no guests.

But here we were: the entire crew sitting down, chatting like old friends instead of shipmates on a schedule.

It felt rare. Real. Kinda magical.

Naturally, I brought two buckets of KFC. It's a tradition I started, post-trip celebrations with greasy fried chicken or Coto Makassar.

Nothing says "good job surviving another trip" like crispy wings and oily napkins.

More Than Just Co-workers

Let’s be real. Working on a boat isn’t all cocktails at sunset and sea turtles.

It’s back-to-back charters, 4 AM wake-up calls, engine failures, cranky guests who complain about clouds (yes, really), and sleep-deprived arguments over who gets to shower first.

But the MSV Katharina crew? Solid as a rock.

The time the captain told me not to sleep in my cabin just in case we had to abandon ship? Katharina.

The time the chief engineer shouted about mysterious water in the saloon? Still Katharina.

When we sailed through terrifying weather and laughed about it later, it was always her.

They've seen me exhausted, sunburnt, yelling, laughing, and everything in between.

And yet, they still hugged me like I never left.

Why Leaving Was So Hard

People always ask me why it took so long to transition into a shore-based gig. I’d point to the job perks, the travel, the sunsets but the truth is the crew. I’ve worked across different yachts, but nothing compares to the brotherhood and love aboard MSV Katharina.

They made me laugh when I wanted to cry.

They teased me like siblings.

They protected me like family.

They’re probably the reason it took me months to finally jump ship, figuratively speaking.

And as I hugged them goodbye that day, I knew it wasn’t really goodbye. It was just one more chapter in our weird, wonderful, sea-sprayed story.

So yeah, maybe I’ve signed on to the glamorous world of yacht brokerage in Southeast Asia now. Maybe I talk about listings and specs instead of tide tables and provisioning lists.

But part of me is still out there, sitting on that main deck, eating KFC, and laughing with the best crew I’ve ever known.

What This Visit Reminded Me

Being a yacht broker these days means I’m often focused on specs, upgrades, CA contracts, and closing deals. But moments like this pull me back to the essence of why I love this world.

They remind me that beyond the teak decks and charter rates, boats are only as good as the people who breathe life into them.

So here’s to the Katharina crew: thank you for making me laugh, teaching me patience, and showing me that real camaraderie doesn’t end when the contract does.

Also, next time I visit, I’m bringing three buckets of KFC. Just in case.

Thank you for reading and now back to happily roaming!