What It’s Like to Charter a Yacht in Indonesia’s Wakatobi National Park

Waka-where? That’s the reaction among even the most seasoned Asian travelers when the name Wakatobi comes up. Wakatobi National Park is an acronym of four islands—Wangi-Wangi, Kaledupa, Tomia, and Binongko—in an exceptionally biodiverse archipelago in Indonesia’s Southeast Sulawesi region.

Despite the eco-attractiveness, its remoteness may explain why few venture there, especially since boat is the only real way to explore the 34 million acres of islands, beaches, coral reefs, seagrass meadows, and mangrove forests that comprise one of the best-preserved marine sanctuaries in the world.

To get there from the U.S. or Europe also requires a combination of planes, trains, and automobiles—in my case, a commuter train, four flights, multiple taxis, and a tender ride from outside London. Before I arrived, the journey sounded like too much, but the explorer’s pull was just too compelling. “You won’t encounter any other charters,” says Yeray Moreno, head of experiences and conservation for Rascal Voyages. “It’s like having the entire park to yourself.”

Moreno wasn’t lying. During the seven days aboard Rascal—one of the company’s custom-built phinisis (the name given to traditional Indonesian sailing yachts)—the only other vessels around are local fishing boats. It’s one of the reasons why the experiential travel company, which runs adventure-themed charters to off-grid cruising grounds like Komodo National Park and Raja Ampat, targets Wakatobi as its latest, greatest, and most remote destination.

Our group of seven met Rascal on Buton Island on coastal Baubau, before anchoring in Pulau Ular the first night to get a taste of what we’d experience the rest of the week. The crew had gone ahead in the tender to find an idyllic untouched beach, clear away any washed-up garbage, and set up a grill, lounges, and parasols. Soon we were enjoying a beach-front feast of barbecued fish and vegetables, washed down by wine from Rascal’s cellar. Aquamarine waters stretched before us as the sun settled into the horizon. A.I. couldn’t have created a more perfect scene.

While we did several land-based excursions, the week was really about the dozens of untouched reefs, abundant marine life, and the freedom of living on a boat in what felt like one of the last bastions of tropical wilderness.

Life aboard Rascal quickly adopted a pleasant, ever-changing cadence focused around the scuba. Moreno and Lisa D’Silva, Rascal’s voyage manager and resident marine biologist, used their knowledge of the park to recon the best coral reefs and other dive spots. In terms of experience, the divers ranged from novice to advanced, but the sites were accessible.

We enjoyed drift dives on steep cliffs that plunged toward the ocean depths, explored healthy reefs with cabbage-leaf coral sheltering giant lobsters and moray eels, and saw pods of dolphins frolicking near the surface. The list of species runs into the dozens: clownfish, parrot fish and anemones in the reefs, sea turtles and blue-spotted rays gliding overhead, the odd shark, and even whales are part of the park’s ecosystem.

On the island of Tomia, our captain’s favorite, we did three dives, including a night dive at Dunia Baru. Any apprehension at submerging in the dark was quickly allayed as flashlights pierced the warm, dark water. The nocturnal species—cuttlefish, mantis shrimp, and octopuses scuttling out of their burrows—are the flipside of what we see during the day. When D’Silva signaled to turn off the flashlights and thrash our arms around, the blackness transformed into a beautiful cloud of luminous phosphorescence.

Returning to Rascal after a dive increasingly felt like coming home. The 102-foot Rascal is part of a fleet that will eventually have two more vessels: Rogue is launching later this year, followed by El Aleph in 2026. The phinisi is an interesting vessel, built the old-school way by hand with ironwood and teak. Unlike the original two-masted schooners operating as cargo vessels, Rascal and its sisterships were designed specifically for charter.

The boat’s rustic, Hamptons-inspired interior has striped fabrics and contemporary art, homey staterooms defined by light colors and the wood. The boat doesn’t fit anyone’s definition of haute couture, but it’s clean and spacious, with a friendly, eager crew and a sense of local character. It’s also the perfect vessel for Wakatobi. A gigayacht would look ridiculous and even a modern explorer would be pretentious, out of place, in these waters.

Rascal Voyages’ founder Steve Ebsworth’s decision to forego masts and sails for larger guest accommodations may compromise its traditional look, but adds to Rascal’s ambiance as a floating villa. The master suite, with a private outdoor area, and my VIP stateroom, were located on the upper deck, with the other three guest cabins on the main deck. Rascal has a flat-top roof where the group gathered most nights for canapes and sundowners at anchor, or when under way, sat in lounges on the sun deck, watching the islands in the distance.

The week turned into a highlight reel of memorable, sometimes wonderfully impossible, experiences: enjoying candlelit dinners on the beach with live music from the crew; watching fishing boats deliver freshly caught fish and lobster for dinner; even visiting a seafaring community in stilt houses above the water.

The Bajau Laut, having honed their freediving skills for centuries as reef-fish hunters, were straight out of an early Jacques Cousteau documentary. They were, in fact, James Cameron’s inspiration for Avatar: The Way of the Water, and in some ways, their underwater prowess is otherworldly. Their bodies, for instance, have evolved so they can retain more oxygen for longer periods, with the best swimmers able to stay under for 15 minutes. They were warm and welcoming, and thanks to the park’s remoteness, haven’t become jaded with too many tourists descending on their stilt villages.

Lauda, a 50-something spearfisherman, joined us on a reef dive. While we looked awkward with our fins and tanks, he donned a pair of goggles, hand-carved from mango wood, and elegantly nosedived into the sea. Clutching his wooden speargun, he swam down 30 feet to the seabed (though he’s capable of twice that depth) and casually walked barefoot along the ragged coral. Moving with ease as if on land, Lauda surveyed the surroundings, holding his breath for an unusually long time. Underwater, we watched him unleash a spear, striking a yellow angelfish squarely on its side. In earlier years, missing could’ve meant that his family might not eat that day.

Later, Lauda welcomed us into his village of Sampela, one of the Bajau’s original and least-developed settlements. He subsidizes fishing by entertaining visitors in his humble home—it’s an example of the tourism his community welcomes and gains from financially, without polluting the culture.

After that visit, giggling children led us across wooden boardwalks deep into the heart of the stilt village, where local boats were tied up. The wilderness around the village was so untouched it led to a respectful silence among the group: lush mangroves behind us, gin-clear water stretching for miles toward the horizon, and blue sky overhead.  

Wakatobi’s existence may have been a mystery just a week before my visit, which probably explains why it’s one of the world’s best-kept charter secrets. But it’s definitely worth the planes-trains-and-automobiles journey because, once there, the only way to see it is by boat. Not a diver? Rascal Voyages is working on an itinerary based on land excursions.

Weekly charter rates range from $22,400 for a VIP cabin to $24,500 for the larger main suite. The entire 10-guest vessel charters for $80,000.