Chasing Waves and Wonders at Sumba’s Nihi Resort

It’s funny how the most memorable journeys often begin with moments of doubt. Standing in Jakarta’s international terminal, sweaty and exhausted after a 16-hour flight from Los Angeles, I found myself questioning the sanity of adding another flight—two, actually—to reach an island I’d barely heard of before planning this trip. But Sumba had been calling to me ever since I’d stumbled across photos of Nihi Resort on a travel blog three years ago. Those images of pristine beaches and luxurious villas perched above crashing waves had lodged themselves permanently in my imagination.

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“You’re going to love it,” my friend Sarah had assured me. “Just survive the journey first.”

Sarah wasn’t wrong about either part.

Landing on Sumba—First Impressions of an Untouched Paradise

The flight from Bali to Sumba’s Tambolaka Airport takes just under an hour, but it might as well be a time machine. As our small propeller plane descended, the landscape below revealed itself as a patchwork of emerald rice fields, dense jungle, and traditional villages with distinctive high-peaked roofs. No high-rises. No traffic. Just raw, undeveloped beauty stretching to the horizon.

The airport itself—if you can even call it that—consists of a single-story building with a corrugated metal roof. I half-expected to see chickens wandering across the tarmac (and was honestly a little disappointed when I didn’t). After collecting my embarrassingly large suitcase (note to self: pack lighter next time), I met my driver, Pak Made, whose wide smile immediately put me at ease.

“First time Sumba?” he asked, expertly tossing my luggage into the back of a rugged Land Cruiser.

“Is it that obvious?” I laughed, already feeling sweat forming under my carefully chosen “arrival outfit” that now seemed ridiculously impractical.

The drive to Nihi Resort takes about 90 minutes, though time becomes a fuzzy concept when you’re winding through landscapes that make you question whether you’ve somehow landed on a movie set. Children waved from the roadside, buffalo lounged in muddy paddies, and women in traditional ikat textiles balanced impossible loads on their heads.

“Road better now,” Pak Made commented as we bounced over what felt like our hundredth pothole. “Before, very bad.”

If this was “better,” I couldn’t imagine the “before” version. But the bumpy journey only heightened my sense of adventure—this wasn’t a place you could simply stumble upon. You had to want to get here.

As we crested a hill about halfway through our journey, I caught my first glimpse of the Indian Ocean—a vast expanse of blue stretching beyond the rugged coastline. My stomach did a little flip. Somewhere along that coast was Nihi, and suddenly the long journey felt completely worth it.

“Almost there,” Pak Made said, noticing my expression. “You see. Magic place.”

Settling into Nihi—Where Luxury Meets Wild

Nothing quite prepares you for your first proper look at Nihi Resort. After passing through a discreet wooden gate, we followed a winding path through lush gardens until the resort revealed itself—a collection of magnificent thatched-roof structures cascading down a hillside toward a beach that seemed to glow with an inner light.

A small welcoming committee greeted us with cold towels and fresh coconuts (which I promptly dribbled down my chin in my eagerness to rehydrate—smooth move). The resort manager, Rian, introduced himself with a warmth that felt genuinely personal rather than professionally polished.

“We’ve been expecting you,” he said, as if I were an old friend rather than just another guest. “Let’s get you settled, and then you can begin to explore.”

A Room with a View (and a Few Surprises)

My villa—Marangga, named after a nearby beach—was located about halfway down the hillside, offering panoramic views of the coastline. The word “villa” feels inadequate, though. “Personal paradise” might be more accurate.

Built in traditional Sumbanese style with a soaring alang-alang thatched roof, the space featured hand-carved wooden furniture, a massive canopy bed draped in white netting, and an outdoor shower and bathtub positioned for maximum ocean viewing. Floor-to-ceiling windows opened completely to a private deck with an infinity pool that seemed to merge with the ocean beyond.

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I stood there for a solid five minutes, mouth slightly open, before remembering to breathe.

“This can’t be real,” I muttered to myself, running my hand along a wooden beam polished by sea air and time.

It was at that moment that I discovered my villa’s other inhabitants—a small gecko scurried across the ceiling, and somewhere nearby, cicadas were performing their afternoon symphony. The line between indoors and outdoors was deliberately blurred here, something I found simultaneously magical and slightly unnerving as a city dweller. Would I really be okay sleeping with just screens between me and the jungle? (Spoiler alert: not only was I okay, but I’ve never slept better in my life.)

The villa came with its own butler, Tinus, who showed me how to work the outdoor shower (trickier than you’d think) and explained that while there was Wi-Fi, it was intentionally limited to the main areas of the resort.

“Nihi is place to disconnect,” he said with a knowing smile. “Many guests think they want internet in room, but after one day, they happy without.”

I nodded politely while inwardly panicking about my planned Instagram updates. But you know what? Tinus was absolutely right. By day two, I’d forgotten about social media entirely—a minor miracle for someone who typically documents every meal, sunset, and random street cat encountered while traveling.

Riding the Waves—Surfing at Nihi’s Legendary Break

If you’re even remotely interested in surfing, you’ve probably heard whispers about “Occy’s Left”—the legendary wave that breaks directly in front of Nihi Resort. Named after Australian surfing champion Mark Occhilupo, it’s considered one of the world’s most perfect left-hand breaks. And it’s exclusive to Nihi guests, with only ten surfers allowed per day.

Now, a confession: despite growing up in California, my surfing skills are mediocre at best. The idea of tackling a world-class wave was both thrilling and terrifying—mostly terrifying, if I’m being honest.

“Don’t worry,” assured Kuda, the head of Nihi’s surf program, when I sheepishly admitted my limited abilities. “We have other spots for beginners. Maybe by end of week, you try Occy’s.”

The resort’s surfing program is impressively organized. Each afternoon, guests sign up for the next day’s sessions, with priority rotating to ensure everyone gets a chance at the prime spots. Beginners like me are paired with instructors who provide boards, rash guards, and infinite patience.

My first morning, I joined two other guests—an Australian couple on their honeymoon—for a lesson at a gentler break called “The Baby.” Under Kuda’s watchful eye, I managed to catch several decent rides, though my “style” probably resembled a startled flamingo more than a surfer.

“Good!” Kuda would shout encouragingly, even when I face-planted spectacularly into the whitewash.

The real magic happened on day three. I’d paddled out just after sunrise, hoping to catch a few waves before breakfast. The ocean was glassy, reflecting pink and gold from the dawn sky. As I sat on my board, waiting for the next set, a pod of dolphins suddenly appeared, arcing through the water less than fifty feet away. They seemed to be surfing their own waves, moving with an effortless grace I could only dream of achieving.

I was so entranced that I nearly missed a perfect wave rolling in. At the last second, I turned, paddled frantically, and somehow—miraculously—found myself standing, riding alongside those magnificent creatures for what felt like both an eternity and a heartbeat.

I never did work up the courage to try Occy’s Left. But watching the more experienced surfers tackle it became one of my favorite activities. Each evening before sunset, I’d grab a cold Bintang beer from the boathouse bar and join other spectators on the beach to witness what can only be described as a ballet between humans and ocean.

“That’s the thing about surfing,” an older gentleman from California told me as we watched a particularly impressive ride. “It reminds you that you’re not in control. The ocean decides whether you succeed or fail.”

Something about that philosophy seemed to encapsulate the entire Nihi experience. This was a place where nature remained firmly in charge, and the luxury existed to help you appreciate that fact rather than shield you from it.

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Beyond the Beach—Adventures in Sumba’s Heart

While it would be entirely possible—and completely understandable—to spend your entire Nihi stay oscillating between beach, pool, and spa, the resort excels at offering experiences that connect guests with Sumba’s rich cultural heritage and stunning landscapes.

On my fourth day, I signed up for a visit to a traditional village, accompanied by Amos, a local guide who grew up in a similar community. The journey took us deep into Sumba’s interior, where paved roads gave way to dirt tracks and modern influences seemed to recede with each passing mile.

The village consisted of about a dozen traditional houses arranged around a central ceremonial area. The houses stood on stilts with dramatically peaked roofs that reached heights of nearly 40 feet—designed, Amos explained, to honor ancestors who are believed to reside in the roof space.

“In Sumbanese belief, world has three levels,” he told me. “Underworld, middle world where we live, and upper world for spirits and gods. House represents all three.”

What struck me most was how genuinely the villagers welcomed us. This wasn’t a performance put on for tourists; it was a glimpse into a way of life that has remained largely unchanged for centuries. Children giggled and followed us at a distance, while village elders demonstrated traditional weaving techniques used to create the island’s famous ikat textiles.

I felt a moment of discomfort when our group was invited to take photos—was I being respectful or intrusive? I asked Amos about this, and his answer surprised me.

“Many villages want to share culture,” he said. “They proud of traditions. But also, visits like this help preserve. Young people see outsiders value their heritage, maybe they value more too.”

Still, I couldn’t help feeling like an awkward outsider as I fumbled to remove my shoes before entering a home where we were served bitter coffee in hand-carved wooden cups. The family watched expectantly as I took my first sip, and I smiled with what I hoped was appropriate appreciation despite the intense flavor.

Later that afternoon, I joined a small group for a trek to a hidden waterfall. The hike was more challenging than I’d anticipated—muddy, steep, and hot despite being mostly shaded by dense jungle. About halfway there, I seriously questioned my decision, especially as sweat poured down my back and mosquitoes discovered my apparently delicious ankles despite liberal applications of repellent.

But then we arrived, and all discomfort was forgotten. The waterfall cascaded about sixty feet into a crystal-clear pool surrounded by ferns and flowering plants. No one else was there—no vendors, no facilities, no signs—just pure, unspoiled nature.

“Go ahead,” our guide encouraged. “Best swimming in Sumba.”

The water was bracingly cold and absolutely perfect. As I floated on my back, gazing up at the canopy of trees framing a patch of blue sky, I experienced a moment of pure contentment that no five-star hotel amenity could ever replicate.

“Worth the hike?” asked Emma, a fellow guest from London, as we reluctantly prepared to leave.

“Worth every mosquito bite,” I confirmed. And I meant it.

Dining Like Royalty (Even If I’m Not)

Food is a serious business at Nihi, which makes sense when you consider the resort’s remote location. Nearly everything is produced on-site or sourced locally—from the vegetables grown in the organic garden to the fish caught daily by local fishermen.

The main restaurant, Ombak (meaning “wave” in Indonesian), is an architectural marvel perched on the hillside with 360-degree views. Breakfast became my favorite meal of the day, partly because of the setting—watching surfers catch morning waves while sipping freshly pressed watermelon juice—and partly because of the banana bread. I’m still trying to recreate that banana bread at home, with limited success.

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Dinner menus change daily, focusing on Indonesian specialties and international dishes created with local ingredients. My absolute favorite meal was a traditional Sumbanese feast served under the stars, featuring slow-roasted pork, grilled fish wrapped in banana leaves, and about a dozen vegetable dishes I couldn’t identify but enthusiastically devoured.

The resort also offers unique dining experiences, like a romantic dinner for two in the treehouse or a beach barbecue. I splurged on the latter and found myself seated at a table literally in the sand, waves lapping just feet away, while a dedicated chef grilled lobster to perfection. It was almost too picture-perfect—until a sudden gust of wind blew sand into my wine glass. The staff quickly replaced it, of course, but that little moment of imperfection somehow made the experience more authentic.

What impressed me most about Nihi’s culinary approach wasn’t just the quality of the food but the flexibility. When I mentioned in passing to my butler that I’d been craving a simple peanut butter sandwich (comfort food regression happens to the best of us when traveling), one appeared on my villa’s deck the very next afternoon, accompanied by a knowing smile.

I should mention that dining at Nihi isn’t cheap—but then, nothing about this place is. When you factor in the remote location and the quality of ingredients, the prices make sense. And the all-inclusive meal plan means you don’t have to think about costs once you’ve arrived, which is its own kind of luxury.

Reflections from Sumba—Was It Worth the Hype?

On my last evening at Nihi, I sat on my deck watching the sun melt into the Indian Ocean in a spectacular display of orange and pink. A glass of chilled white wine in hand, feet propped up on the railing, I tried to process everything I’d experienced over the past week.

The question that kept circling my mind: Was Nihi worth the considerable expense and effort to reach it?

The cynical part of me—the part that’s been disappointed by overhyped destinations before—wanted to find flaws. The Wi-Fi really was frustratingly slow. Some of the paths were steep enough to leave me breathless (though that could be more a comment on my fitness level than the resort’s design). And yes, there were bugs—this is a tropical island, after all.

But those minor issues faded to insignificance against the backdrop of what Nihi offers: a rare combination of authentic luxury, meaningful adventure, and genuine connection—both with nature and with the people of Sumba.

What makes Nihi special isn’t just the stunning location or the impeccable service, though both are exceptional. It’s the philosophy behind the place. The resort employs almost entirely local staff and directs profits to the Sumba Foundation, which funds community projects across the island. Guests are encouraged to visit these projects—schools, clinics, water access points—and see firsthand how tourism can be a force for positive change.

I think what I’ll remember most isn’t the luxury (though that outdoor shower view will haunt my dreams forever) but the moments of unexpected connection: learning to weave with a village elder who spoke no English but communicated perfectly through smiles and gestures; the kitchen staff teaching me how to wrap fish in banana leaves; watching the stable boys gently training young Sumbanese horses on the beach at dawn.

Is Nihi for everyone? Definitely not. If you need constant entertainment, perfect connectivity, or urban amenities, you’d probably find it challenging. And if you’re on a tight budget, there are certainly more affordable ways to experience Indonesia’s beauty.

But if you’re seeking an experience that might genuinely change how you see the world—or at least how you define luxury—then yes, Nihi is worth every penny and every hour of travel.

As I packed my bags on the final morning, I found a small handwoven bracelet on my pillow—a traditional Sumbanese design in indigo and red. Attached was a note from Tinus: “To remember Sumba always.”

As if I could ever forget.

I fastened the bracelet around my wrist, where it remains today—a little frayed now, but a constant reminder that sometimes the most extraordinary journeys take us far from our comfort zones, to places where luxury isn’t defined by thread counts or brand names, but by moments of perfect connection with the world around us.

And maybe that’s the real magic of Nihi—it offers a vision of luxury that feeds the soul rather than just the ego. In our increasingly homogenized world, that might be the rarest luxury of all.

About the author: Jack is a passionate content creator with years of experience. Follow for more quality content and insights.