Off the Beaten Path on Sumba | Indonesia's Most Exclusive Island at 56

Sumba has been on my list for a long time.

But every time I mentioned it the conversation went the same way. Malaria. Contaminated water. Hostile locals. No budget accommodation. People wanted to come but nobody was going. After a while I started to wonder if that reputation was being maintained on purpose.

Here are the numbers. Sumba is twice the size of Bali. Its population is a fraction. Bali receives six million tourists a year. Sumba gets twenty-five thousand. Most of them Indonesian. Bali has nearly four thousand hotels. Sumba has a handful. And the ones that exist are mostly ultra-luxury all-inclusive resorts charging hundreds if not thousands a night.

So why does nobody come here on their own terms?

Because nobody told them they could.

The Market and the Hostile Locals

The Pasar Inpres market in Waingapu is where Sumba starts making sense.

Crowded stalls, fresh produce, dried fish, ceremonial ikat fabric hanging in the shade. The smell of clove cigarettes and something frying nearby. A young woman named Salita stopped me before I'd gone twenty feet and pressed a small dried nut into my hand. Pinang. Betel nut. The traditional currency of connection across every village on this island. Mixed with sirih and lime powder, chewed together, it opens conversations that money can't.

She demonstrated.

I guess the hostile locals rumor was the first thing to go.

Wairinding Hill — Dee's Last Morning

It was Dee's last day on Sumba.

I woke her up at four in the morning for an hour-long ride to watch the sunrise from Wairinding Hill. The road was empty the entire way. In an hour we passed maybe twelve vehicles on the main road through the island. Main road. Twelve vehicles. In Indonesia.

Wairinding sits above the savannah on the eastern end of Sumba, rolling limestone hills fading gold in the dry season, the kind of landscape that makes you stop talking and just look. The light came up slow over the hills and neither of us said much. Some mornings earn the silence.

She flew out the next day. The road south was waiting.

The Reclamation Argument

Everyone who comes to Sumba already knows about NIHI Resort. Voted the number one hotel in the world two years running by Travel and Leisure. Sitting behind an actual gate on the southwest coast. Three to four thousand dollars a night.

Beyond that gate there's an invisible one. A price point that quietly tells the common traveler this island isn't for them. Most tourists who do make it here get picked up at the airport and delivered directly to an all-inclusive. That's their Sumba. Controlled. Packaged. Paid for in advance.

What I'm doing is something completely different. And it isn't simple.

I couldn't find a motorbike in Waingapu. Took three or four hours through word of mouth. Without Dee's Bahasa I never would have found one. Surf racks don't exist here, so I built my own from PVC pipe, cargo straps, and twelve dollars worth of hardware from a local shop. Restaurants outside the capital are scarce. I’ve been eating a lot of Ramen. I carry a backup tent rented from a local just in case accommodation doesn't materialize.

And here's what a full week on Sumba actually costs when you do it this way. Surfing empty waves. Staying in a beachfront villa. Motorbike, gas, food, everything.

Two hundred and fifty-eight dollars.

Same island. Same waves. Different way of doing it.

$12 A Night in Waingapu

The bungalow was a standalone traditional hut set back from the road in a quiet compound ten minutes from the airport.

Mosquito net over a queen bed. Tankless toilet. No hot water and no pretense of it. A small desk, a balcony, and the particular silence of a place that hasn't been discovered yet. Twelve dollars a night.

I slept well at twelve dollars.

Building a Surfboard Rack for $12 in sumba

No surf racks exist in Waingapu. That's the honest situation.

So I found PVC piping, glue, and zip ties at a local hardware shop and built a counterweight cradle that straps to the frame of the scooter. The board sits behind the rear wheel, balanced by the weight of the bag on the opposite side, secured with two cargo straps I travel with. The whole rig , pipe, glue, and tools came to twelve dollars.

Five hours of riding south. It didn't move once.

The Road South on Sumba

The road south out of Waingapu doesn't ease you in.

Savannah first. Dry and gold and wide open in a way that makes you feel small in the best possible way. Then jungle. Then a village that didn't get the memo that the 21st century had arrived. I've been on a lot of roads. This one felt different.

Maybe it was the solitude. Maybe it was the particular quality of light on dry grass at 56 with nowhere to be and everywhere to go.

The wild horses appeared without warning. A herd of them on the road, then in the scrub, then gone into the savannah like they were never there. Sumba's famous Sandalwood horses have run wild on this island for centuries. Seeing them appear from nowhere on a coastal road with no one else around is the kind of thing that makes you pull over and sit with it for a minute.

Sumba’s SouthEast Coast

I booked three nights at a beachfront property for thirty-three dollars a night.

The closest named town is Baing. I won't say more than that. What I will say is this, four or five reef breaks within riding distance, every single one empty. Not another foreigner in a week. Spotty wifi at the accommodation and no cell signal anywhere on the coast. The people here have no daily connection to the outside world.

Neither did I. It was the best week I've had in awhile.

The Milky Way lights up the entire sky here. Wild horses roam the beach at dusk. The water over the reef is the color of something that shouldn't be real.

Sitting a hundred yards offshore alone over a colorful reef in crystal clear water is one of the most extraordinary things I've done on this road. It's also slightly unnerving. Every time a turtle pops its head up, and it happens constantly. My brain says crocodile. I know they're a problem on this island. I just don't have enough local knowledge yet to know exactly when that problem should concern me.

The malaria I'm managing. The crocodiles I'm still working out.

Wasn't easy getting here. Wasn't sure what I'd find. But I was rewarded.

Practical Notes on Sumba

Getting there: Fly to Waingapu from Bali via Garuda, Citilink, or Wings Air. One to two stops depending on routing. Book ahead — flight options are limited and fill up in peak season.

Motorbike rental: Limited in Waingapu. Google listings are mostly outdated. Budget three to four hours and ask locally. Dee's Bahasa was essential. If you don't have a local with you, ask your accommodation to help.

Surfboard rack: Doesn't exist here. Build your own or arrange a board at a surf camp on the south coast.

Accommodation Waingapu: Budget bungalows from $12 a night. Book via Booking.com or ask at the airport. The Myze Hotel is the new luxury option if that's your style.

South coast accommodation: Scarce outside surf camps. Book in advance for the known surf zones. Carry a tent as backup. It's not a figure of speech here.

Cash: ATMs exist in Waingapu but not reliably on the south coast. Withdraw before you leave the capital. The Wise app with NTT Bank over-the-counter cash withdrawal is the most reliable option for accessing money outside the city.

Malaria: Real risk on Sumba. Take precautions before arrival. NIHI Sumba's community malaria program has reduced cases on the island by 93% since the resort opened. Worth acknowledging even if you're not staying there.

Costs: Full week on the south coast including accommodation, food, motorbike, gas, and surfing. $258.