Being covered with ash is the price we paid for the spectacular fireworks show on the previous night, courtesy of Anak Krakatau. Anak Krakatau, which means Child of Krakatau, was created by the massive explosion Krakatau in 1883 located on the Sunda Straight, Indonesia.

The explosion was so violent that not only did it destroy two thirds of the island of Krakatau, but was heard in Perth, Australia about 3,000 miles (5,000km) away. A 19th century drawing on the left shows what the original Karakatau looked like.

During the day, as we trailed our fishing lines around the Ujon Kulon islands, the volcano provided only smoke. As soon as the sun set, bright streaks of orange flew out of A. Krakatau’s crater lighting up an outline of the island with its molten fireworks. The dark waters lit up each time the lava gushed out of the volcano. Despite being miles away we could already smell the sulfur and knew a shower of ash would soon be upon us and continue into the early morning.

After shaking the spectacular memory of the previous night, sitting up I noticed that the entire bow was covered in ash which was mixed with a little bit of salt water, creating a very slick surface. My thick hair, already matted from haven only taken saltwater showers for the past four days, was cemented in place with the addition of the grey ash. I look over at Mel and Mark, still asleep, their faces too were completely covered with a thin layer of grey. We chose to sleep on the bow after realizing how hot the cabins were at night. It is amazing, despite our distance from the mainland or any island for that matter, how mosquitoes will still be able to hunt you down.

The ship was docked at a private pier in Pelabuhanratu, a seaside town frequented by foreigners on the south western part of Java; about four hours drive from Jakarta. From there we had made our way west around the western tip of Java, into the Sunda Straight which divided Java from Sumatra. On the straight, we passed the islands of Panaitan, Krakatau, Sebesi and Sangiang before making a brief cameo in the Java Sea and returning to follow the coast of Lampung before heading back to port. There was only one objective for this trip; sport fishing. Sightseeing and snorkeling were just an added feature.

Our first day had consisted primarily of preparations and testing gear. In all honesty I did not know much about the ship or the fishing equipment that we had on board. We did have lots of lures, a spear gun, belts to attach fishing rods to, and of course the fishing chairs which we fastened ourselves into and to which I owe my life. There were numerous occasions when I could have easily been pulled under by a fish but it was a fight against a yellow fin tuna on the sixth day which nearly got the best of me.

The crew consisted of Hans, the Swiss captain and his Indonesian deck hands and of course, the first mate who knew all the best fishing spots and understood the waters best. He would have been the captain had Hans not been the one to commission the building of the boat in the first place. Along for the ride were Mark, Mel and Armin, Mark and Mel being young and inexperienced like myself and Armin a more seasoned fisherman. It was obvious from the get go who were the ones to pull up the majority of the fish.

Armin was first to catch a rainbow tuna on day two. It was a 45 min fight which presented what seemed like more pain that I had ever imagined fishing could produce. Sitting on the chair, we watch as his forehead turned a bright red and veins protruded from his forearms. Well placed profanities in Swiss-German, German and English streamed forth from the Swiss man like the fiery lava from Krakatau. His fishing pole seemed like it were going to break in half.

Once the fish was brought on deck it was instantly cut up and fried. The insides were saved for use as bait. Our diet consisted primarily of what we fished, rice and instant noodles cooked in salt water. All the salt forced us to drink more fresh water, which we had just enough of to last the full seven days. It was quite the diet and trust me, I lost many pounds in seven days especially after my round on the fishing chair.

The night before my encounter with the yellow fin, our boat was being tossed around by huge waves. The hull would slam against the water so hard it made sleep impossible, and anything that was not tied down went overboard. Water made its way onto the deck and in addition to the ash, created a slick, muddy paste which coated just about everything.

Around ten thirty in the morning on the following day, we hear the reel of my fishing pole scream “Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz!!” as the line was being pulled; it was time. I put on the leather fishing belt, sat on the chair and was instructed not to fight back until the “zzzzzzzzzzz” had stopped or until the reel only made the noise intermittently. The first mate explained that a tuna had taken the bait and it was the nature of the tuna to bite and then dive deep. He basically was telling me to relax because I had a long fight ahead of me. The reel stopped spinning and I began the fight, one of the crew members slowed the boat down and I pulled the pole up, and reeled in on the way down in a rocking motion over and over. At first I thought it was easy, that is, until the fish realized what I was doing at which point he decided to fight back.

Halfway through the ordeal, my shoulders, biceps, triceps and forearms seemed to be on fire. Muscles that I had never known about started to hurt and the morning heat began to position itself right above me. It took an hour to reel the fish in and about a week to recover. It was my one and only catch, and I was happy with that fact. Nothing was more satisfying, than to be handed a square inch of fresh red sashimi at the end of the fight.

Collectively we pulled in a good haul. Barracuda, flounder, tuna and mackerel were our primary catches. We brought trash bags of fish home and seafood was the theme at the dinner table for weeks thereafter.

By the time we reached mainland again, I was thoroughly dark – my Asian skin turning a deep brown, my hair changed into a very light brown, I smelled horribly (which made the four hour trip to Jakarta almost unbearable) and the rhythmic feeling of being pushed around by the waves dominated my sense of balance. A week later I still looked the same, I smelled better and slept better because the reminiscent feeling of being on the ocean would rock me to sleep.