Komodo Island, Indonesia. February 27, 2016.

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Another most excellent day, albeit one which began with friction, annoyance, resistance, communication failures, and mob civil disobedience in the finest traditions of Thoreau and Ghandi.

The Cruise Director stated in his announcements that if you did not have an excursion booked with a valid tour operator, either independently or through the ship, you were not allowed to disembark at all.

Sensible. Losing careless tourists to hungry dragons is very bad PR. They quite reasonably did not want us wandering all over the island on our own. If you are chomped by a Komodo dragon, you have an eight-hour window to grab a helicopter ride to a Bali hospital where the antivenom is stocked. Helicopter, because the ferry will simply not get you there in time.

He had also implied in his announcement, and the general gossip was, that if you were not on a Holland America excursion, you would be the lowest priority to disembark. This caused no end of bristling amongst the independents, as we had a guide waiting for us on shore. Our excursion, unlike the half-day ones offered by the ship, was planned for the full day.

We asked for advance tickets and were met with prevarication. We asked if it were true that the Holland excursions got priority, and were met with prevarication. This did not sit well with us.

One earns Holland America loyalty points through sea days and onboard spending. Four- and five-star Mariners as well as those in the high-end suites (snot class) have priority in tender disembarkation. We gathered those in our party with the higher status, put them at the front of the line and we simply stormed the gangplank: civil disobedience at its best. There was friction. "Send lawyers, guns and money," said I. "Call security," said Ken. "This can't end well."

We arrived at the gangplank as a group. Elliot chatted amiably with the tender officer, who saw no problem with letting us board as soon as he had clearance to load and depart.

But before the clearance was given, Tender Ticket Lady (henceforth TTL) appeared, distraught at our troublemaking and lack of cooperation, and ordered us back to the Ocean Bar to await our tickets in an orderly manner.

"Nope," said Elliot reasonably, "We're here and we're ready to go and the tender is as well." With a wave of his arm, he took in about twenty of us and said, "Plus, these folks are all four- and five-star Mariners," and taking in the rest with another flap of his hand he added, "And the rest are from the Neptune and Pinnacle Suites."

"No way," she said. "I'm not having a repeat of the chaos of the other day in Bali. You must go back upstairs and clear this corridor. It's not safe!" Jane immediately moved people off to the side of the corridor, clearing a central pathway. "There," she said, the corridor is clear."

Clearly, TTL was not used to this sort of resistance. "I insist that you at least clear this area. You must at a minimum move back up to the next level." Some people started moving back up the stairs.

"No, stop," I said to those on the stairs. "Then we lose priority. You're going to have a lot of annoyed Mariners wondering what happened to our priority."

Jane summoned her union-on-legitimate-strike skills and took control of the crowd, just like she did in 1991 when the news cameras caught her leading a crowd chanting against the Prime Minister of the day, "Hey hey! Ho ho! Lyin' Brian's got to go!"

"We shall overcome," sang Jane, and several joined in. Others were clearly embarrassed by this adult flouting of authority and milled about uncertainly. A couple of braver folks drifted back down the stairs and sensing a turning of the tide, called others back as well.

Along came Michael, the Cruise Director, his officer's whites and deck shoes replacing his usually natty, trim European suit and shoes with bright orange laces. He is such an easygoing and pleasant fellow, it was impossible to tell whether he had been summoned to mediate the conflict, or whether he was blithely unaware and just passing by. "Hi, Michael," said Elliot smoothly. "We are very much looking forward to our excursion today, and we're so glad things are so well organised with the tenders."

"Yes, Mr. Elliott, thank you. This is your group? You are all here and ready to go?"

"Yep," grinned Elliott.

Michael turned to the tender officer. "Is everything clear and secure? Shore party all set up? Tender ready to go?"

"Yes, sir, Mr. Langley."

Michael turned his megawatt smile on our group and waved happily towards the gangplank, "Well then, I'm sure you will all have a fantastic day."

"Thank you, Michael," we chorused, and slid through security and down the ramp where our tender awaited. As soon as we were all aboard, we cast off and headed for shore. I can't imagine Tender Ticket Lady's blood pressure, or the behind-closed-doors yelling match I'm sure ensued. As it was, we had the tender to ourselves, as in dealing with the rebellion, Tender Ticket Lady had failed to clear anyone else for the tender.

We were the first ashore, got briefed by the park ranger, met our guides, and we were off into the jungle. Tenders from our ship and from the Crystal cruise ship anchored nearby began to arrive.

We had hardly gotten 50 meters from the station when our guide pointed out a huge dragon ambling down the dry riverbed towards the beach. A great start.

We took a roundabout route through the jungle while the guide gave us an introduction to the unique flora and fauna of the region, and details of the lives of the carnivorous dragons. These almost-dinosaurs can weigh up to 300 pounds and grow to 11 feet in length. After hatching, they spend their first two years in the trees, so the parents don't eat them. They move quickly and are pretty spry when chasing down prey.

We picked a few sprigs of local mint and tucked them into clothing and hats and behind ears - a natural mosquito repellent, we were told.

We arrived at the watering hole, where several dragons of varying sizes dozed in the shade or moved slowly in search of a more comfortable spot. They eat only once a month or so, although they are opportunists and will gorge on any meat if the opportunity arises. The rest of the time is mostly spent digesting.

Menstruating women, people with wounds or open sores and other qualities which might provoke unwanted attention are banned from visiting the island. You are prohibited from bringing any type of meat ashore. Although they have become accustomed to human presence, park rangers mill amongst the dragons, alert for the lizard that suddenly develops an interest in its watchers.

And it happened. One large dragon reared up on its front legs, tongue flicking rapidly in and out, head moving back and forth, clearly scenting something interesting. He began trotting towards a group of people. A few rangers moved to intercept him as, tongue moving in and out faster and faster, he picked up speed. One ranger threw a stick just to the lizards's side. The noise, or change in air pressure, or something, successfully distracted him, and soon his questing head and tongue stilled as he lost interest.

He had sped up pretty easily. Clear to see how one could bring down one of the many small deer or wild pigs roaming the jungle, visible occasionally in the clearings.

We came upon a stag and two does cropping grass near the beach. "Nice rack," I observed, and Sheryl whacked my shoulder. "You sound just like Elliott," she sighed.

The jungle paths began filling up with the large groups on ship tours, and we slipped away to the dock to board our boat for the rest of the day. We had to clamber over one boat to reach ours. The first boat suffered a little damage as the less agile and more boat-ignorant caused a little damage here and there, grabbing handholds not meant to bear any weight.

A leisurely motor across the bay towards a fishing village gave us time to unwind. Up top was a low-ceilings open area with foam mattresses, and a couple of folks immediately settled in for a quick nap. The lower area was lined with benches and people kept standing and chatting, blocking the captain's view over and over.

We were greeted at the dock by a gaggle of kids. We are great entertainment for them in our odd clothes and different appearance. Elliott immediately gathered a posse on the dock, by making fart noises with his cupped hands and behind his knee, causing the kids either great amusement or concerned confusion. Others tried to duplicate his feat, and when they failed, he introduced them to the noises made by popping his finger out of his cheek. They caught on to that one pretty quickly.

The village of Muslim fishermen remains quite isolated with its own language and culture and a different way of life from other Indonesian tribes, despite occasional visitors like us, but we were welcomed in a friendly way.

A small coop craft shop with power tools cranks out wooden Komodo dragons of all poses and sizes. Jane's favourite was a too-large piece depicting a dragon bringing down a deer. Very dramatic and skillfully executed.

A fishing net spread out under a home glittered with thousands upon thousands of silvery anchovies drying in the sun.

A wall around the village affords some protection from roaming dragons, but they seldom venture this far from the jungle (but it happens) and the cliff behind the village provides another natural barrier. There was a time not long ago, though, when the dragons would occasionally roam under the stilted homes, finding the odd unattended child.

A rickety raised boardwalk along the waterline led to the moored fishing boats where children played in the water and messed about in the boats. We could see into the open end of a stilted home, where a mother was cooking over a fire with several naked kids cavorting about. One abruptly burst into tears and headed for mom's arms. Jane pointed her camera to catch the tender moment, but mom saw the movement, and turning the crying child to face the pathway, said, "Photo, photo!" The crying kid immediately stopped and they all broke into wide smiles and waves.

We returned to the boat, trailed by the village children, and boarding, set off across the bay and down the coast to Pink Beach, so named because of the red coarl making up most of the sand.

We moored our larger boat to a buoy, and smaller launches ferried us ashore. This is to preserve the coral from the kind of boat and anchor damage we saw in Lombok.

We eagerly hit the water, and were not disappointed. I now have a fair bit of experience in snorkeling locations, and this place is superior to any other I've seen.

As I floated entranced by the sights of fish and coral and the sounds of the larger fish nibbling organisms off the rock and coral, I was suddenly struck my and interesting fact gleaned from the lecture on Komodo Island we attended - in addition to being quick and agile on land, dragons are excellent swimmers.

Questions to the guide when I returned to rest on shore for a bit put me at ease. They do swim well, but the high cliffs and isolated coves make this area pretty much inaccessible to all but the most determined or lost dragon. Off I went for round two, and I was second last back to shore, thoroughly exhausted and elated.

We took the launches back to our boat, where the cook had prepared a stellar local lunch; sweet crispy chunks of several kinds of fresh fish, breaded shrimp, rice and veggies and tofu chunks, all cooked by one guy in two woks, for 18 people.

We happily munched away and watched the scenery slide by on our leisurely cruise back to the jetty.

While we walked between the jetty and the tourist market set up for the cruise ships, small children tried to sell little dragon carvings, fridge magnets and postcards. Other older kids approached with their hands out, coached to show sad faces as they pleaded, "Money, money." Ken had a bag of food goodies and handed them out freely until we heard him snap angrily. One of the kids had snuck up behind and had his hand in the bag behind Ken's back, seeing what he could snag.

The market by the jetty was quite the zoo. Tshirts, fridge magnets, hats and some genuinely fine carvings amongst the standard ones were everywhere. We sussed out pretty quickly what their best price was. Bargaining was hard and petty, walking away several times to save a single dollar.

A full and wondrous day, one which will stand out in our travels. Exhausted, we are looking forward to a rare sea day as we turn westward and head for Surabaya, on Java, and eventually for England.

And that night, the dragons gave me poker luck.

More flying fish! Everywhere!

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Photos

Komodo Island
Dragon!