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“Don’t ever go on holiday with people you don’t know!” my friend warned me. “Especially in a foreign country” she added. “It will be a disaster!”. I push her caution from my mind as I sit alongside, and opposite absolute strangers in a speed boat bound for ‘Anak Krakatoa’, or loosely translated, ‘Child of Krakatoa’. It’s more famous ‘Parent’, Krakatoa, is the formidable volcano that is revered as the unofficial ‘landlord’ of the waters between West Java and Sumatra in Indonesia. During my brief consultancy in Forestry Research, this trip to Anak Krakatoa was never in my plans, but when I received an email asking if I’d be interested in the adventure, I, perhaps quite recklessly, agreed. Although I was fore-warned about entrusting my time to total strangers, I wasn’t prepared for the ‘eco-tourism’ nature of the experience, which I quickly learned, meant: Comfort is a state of mind. After a five hour car ride across infinite amounts of lush vegetable fields, and well tended rice paddies, we found ourselves slow walking, and wide eyed through the village of Carita; where our journey transitioned to an aqua blue wooden speed boat with a sun bleached red canopy. With our bag packs placed at strategic places on the boat to ensure balance, we all silently gazed as Anak Krakatoa’s mountainsides loomed closer. It’s grey shifting sands reminded me of the small fragile hills I’d spent my childhood building on the shores of the Indian Ocean. Our Indonesian guide manning the motor yells a few Bahasa words at our other guide squatting on the bow of the boat. He unravels himself to look over the side, and pops back up with a smile. He gives two thumbs up and the engine on our boat stutters silent. Here we were, a group of strangers, silently floating on the deep blue waters beside Anak Krakatoa. “You Jump!” communicated one guide, handing us snorkeling masks, while the other used his arms to illustrate the ‘breast stroke’ swimming action. Our boat faces one of the many cliff sides of the grey island, where the best and brightest of fish could be found. The murky depth of the water made me crave being on land, and although land was within reach, it’s accessibility remained a dangerous idea. I secure my waist long braids at the top of my head as I self consciously shed my clothes to the appropriate attire for the occasion. Within minutes, we were all bobbing face down on the water surface with our spandex covered buttocks facing the sun. When they feel we’ve had enough opportunities to glimpse and touch, our guides call us back to the boat. Next on the agenda, as we guessed when our boat headed towards an abandoned beach, lined entirely by thick forest, was a hike. One would never imagine the tangled vegetation would let us through for our pleasure. We soon found out that it did not intend to. Armed with machetes, our guides skillfully navigated through the low hanging branches, and clinging bushes; leading us to a location where we stood above fifty shades of green and an endless expanse of blue. After a brief snack of oranges and hot ginger tea, we prepared to tread down the hill, and on to our campsite for the night. Going down, each step required immense concentration, and a reliance on every available sense. “STOP” I hear the stranger behind me yell. I turn to inquire, and he raises his finger to his lips. In one swift movement, he’s removed his baseball hat and brushed it across my shoulder, while also pulling me to his side. We all watch as a giant Orb Weaver spider scuttles over the moist tree litter, and disappears under a rock. “Ah yes! hang head low when walking!” says our guide, as he approaches me and relieves me of my backpack. Carrying it on his front. A reward for being the first not to have used their common sense. As we cautiously continue walking through the forest towards the beach, I realize that what these strangers have shared with me in this experience, most of my friends would not.