Among these jaunts, it is the seaside ride on a small, strong Sumba horse that still glows in memory - and I do not even fancy the equestrian life.
"Connect with your horse first," counsels Carlos, the assistant manager at Sandlewood Stables, as the horse-whisperer-in-training gets me to calmly lead Elvis around a little arena. "They are sensitive and feel the energy of the rider.''
I am supposed to bond with my horse, yet be boss - so I play with terms of endearment and authority, saying "sayang" and "stop". Elvis is unimpressed.
But all is bliss when we canter on the resort's isolated beach, a 2.5km-long crescent of sand framed by long waves.
Feathery-fine raindrops pelt the beach gently and the pink sand starts to look crystalline, a tableau I have not seen elsewhere - but perhaps I have not stopped often enough to smell roses and oceans.
The young man sprints alongside my horse, then around it, snapping photo after photo on my smartphone.
Scrolling through the images later, I am moved by his artistry in conveying the romance and seclusion of Sumba.
A new adventure awaits when I try stand-up paddle-boarding - a spin-off of surfing - on a river for the first time. There is a board to stand, sit or kneel on, while I use a paddle to navigate the Wanukaka River.
It is a novel way to enjoy rustic Sumba. Villagers wash their motorbikes in the river and horses drink from it. We spy fishing nets.
We drift along, and the river is by turns somnolent and not, for unseen currents will lurk in bodies of water.
It is a scary oversight, but it has slipped my mind to ask for a life jacket for our half-hour excursion.
Then it happens. Slow to steer out of an insidious current, I topple when my board gets jammed in the reeds sprouting from the river bank.
Alarmed, I contemplate whether to escape the menacing current, just like my paddle that has now freely floated away. Or is it safer to cling to the reeds and keep my head above water till a rescuer shows up?
It is an eternity before I see my indispensable guides powering against the current to reach me.
Back at the resort, one of the guides, in her wisdom, asks if I want to paddle again, on the open water this time. To get over my fear, I say yes.
It proves to be simpler to paddle on the unconfined Indian Ocean, where I have more mobility, unlike the river where I constantly steer away from the river banks.
Atop the sea, there is more stability when I stand, and I am snug inside my life jacket. It feels like a little feat to navigate safely past the force of nature that is Occy's Left, as surfers hurtle through it.
The ocean is vital and restless as I paddle and, in that moment, it is deeply humbling to know that travellers here are a speck of humanity on a far shore.
When I step off my board, I relax from an eventful day with an icy lime-and-mint drink at the boathouse and a fresh samosa.
SPA SAFARI
The world is serene again when I set off on a spa safari another day.
This begins with a 90-minute morning trek followed by several hours of spa treatments at Nihi Oka, a cluster of cliffside pavilions nestled between two beaches.
Our trek is a series of agrarian Sumba moments - a horse rolling in a tiny field, black buffalo following us with inquisitive eyes, prancing goats.
I peer at low-branched cashew trees and see how each nut dangles under its own spongy, pendulous "cashew apple". It seems extravagant that just one nut is harvested from each apple.
We arrive at Nihi Oka for a late breakfast that includes grilled paleo bread, fresh fruit and a trio of juices, notably a shot of brilliant turmeric.
Then the full pampering begins in an airy pavilion, or bale, that is open on four sides.
My masseuse Ruth, an islander, combines Swedish deep-tissue kneading with long therapeutic Sumbanese strokes, and my back benefits from extra time and care. A green tea scrub and aloe vera wrap follow.
Truly a head-to-toe treat, hair and scalp are hydrated with a coconut water rinse and a "smoothie" of avocado and cocoa butter, while the feet tingle with a reflexology session.
A mirror positioned under the massage bed reflects the sky and the glistening turquoise of the Indian Ocean. Fused with the sound of ceaseless waves and the flowing movements of Ruth's hands, it is a multi-sensory experience of nearly three hours in a soul-soothing South-east Asian nook marvellously off the map.
After a late lunch, alone in my bale, Ruth restores my hurting left hand with many layers of exquisite pressure, while I sit on a day bed, watching the hypnotic sea turn a moodier grey-green that elevates the solitude here.
Before I leave, Bali-trained spa manager Ketut declares the beauty of Sumba, which has a reputation among surfers as a second Hawaii.
Spanish footballers have spent time here, he mentions, while Sports Illustrated models have cavorted on the beach for photo-shoots.
LOCAL CHOCOLATE