Forget the Great Barrier — I had the swim of a lifetime at Australia’s lesser known reef

Stepping out of tiny Exmouth Airport, I felt like I’d flown into another world.

I’d arrived from the skyscrapers and shopping malls of Perth into a striking landscape where red-sand gorges tumble into turquoise seas.

Exmouth is considered the gateway to Ningaloo Reef, a lesser-known — but incredibly important — coral reef off the coast of Western Australia.

While the Great Barrier Reef is one of those natural wonders you learn about in primary school, I’d never heard of Ningaloo.

It’s much smaller than its more famous cousin, but stretching for about 300km, it’s the world’s largest fringing reef, meaning it sits closer to the shore.

It’s home to a staggering number of marine species, any one of which you’d be lucky to glimpse in your lifetime — from humpback whales and mantarays to whale sharks.

It’s also, unsurprisingly, one of the best places in the world for snorkelling.

There are no sprawling resort hotels in this part of Australia.

The most popular choice is glamping, and the preferred footwear for locals seemed to be none at all.

It feels gloriously empty and very… Australian? Scary spiders included.

A bucket list swim

Every year, from March to July, Ningaloo Reef welcomes a different kind of visitor: between 300 and 500 whale sharks, who pass through the area on their migration south through the Indian Ocean.

Despite their size (they’re bigger than elephants), these gentle giants primarily eat plankton and krill, and aren’t dangerous to humans.

As a result, animal lovers flock to the reef to swim alongside them.

I arrived harbour-side for my bucket-list swim with trepidation, but the team at Live Ningaloo, the only small group tour operator on the reef, put me at ease.

The crew reminded me of Crush, the sea turtle from Finding Nemo (it’s a compliment, I swear).

So chill and tanned, with sting-ray tattoos and bracelets that I can only assume were bought at a vintage market in some corner of paradise.

But despite the Aussie ‘give zero f*cks’ vibes, they know their stuff: these guides are marine scientists who explain how the swim will play out, with military precision.

The tour keeps conservation at its heart and disturbances to sharks at a minimum.

The buildup is tense. Planes overhead search for the animals, and radio down when they spot one.

When they do, it’s all systems go. Flippers and snorkels go on, and we get into formation, jumping into the water.

I’m hanging off every word of our guide, Katie, bobbing on the surface, with no real concept of what’s to come.

Then, she instructs us to put our heads underwater. I’m holding my breath (despite my snorkel), staring into the abyss.

At first, it’s eerily still, and then, like some kind of mirage, a whale shark, the world’s largest fish, emerges from the depths, spots glistening in the reflected sunlight.

And suddenly, you’re swimming. You’re completely present — so aware that you must keep up with this creature, so as not to miss a second in its company — while also finding the moment so staggeringly hard to believe, it almost feels like a dream.

Your time with the whale shark ends at its choosing, when, despite its massive size, it elegantly swims out of sight into the deep blue.

We were lucky enough to share a handful of swims with the sharks, before toasting a glass of champagne on board, spotting humpback whales in the distance.

As a travel writer, I’m meant to be able to put incredible experiences like this into words, but I’m not sure any sentence I write would do it justice.

Another guide (and expert photographer) Justin Bumpstead summed it up best: ‘You never know what you’re going to see out in the Ningaloo. Every day is different. It’s special.’

Where desert meets ocean

From the sky to the sea, 50 shades of blue hit you when you arrive in Exmouth. However, if you edge inland, you’re treated to an altogether different, though equally breathtaking, terrain.

Exmouth sits on the north edge of Cape Range National Park, home to 50,581 hectares of unspoilt canyons, gorges and ochre-toned desert, that hugs 50km of shoreline.

An easy way to experience the park is a hike to the iconic Yardie Creek, one of its many deep canyons.

About 2km from the nearest entrance, you’ll spot kangaroos, emus and black foot wallabies (a threatened species) as you climb higher. 

The gorge itself is a breathtaking sight.

A river seems to slice through two vertical red cliff faces, before opening out into the sparkling blue ocean.

If you squint, you might even see whales breaching in the distance. Boat tours are also available if you prefer to see the creek from the water.

It was truly a sight to behold, and worth the 5am start.

A room with a view

Sixteen tents sit among the dunes at Sal Salis, the waves of the Indian Ocean crashing in the distance.

There’s no WiFi or phone signal here. Guests are encouraged to go off grid: chat to each other, read a book in your hammock or take part in one of the daily scheduled activities, from hikes (such as the trip to Yardie Creek) to kayak tours.

And with the reef just a few metres from shore, snorkelling is encouraged.

This is indeed luxury accommodation: delicious meals featuring locally sourced ingredients are served on long communal benches with Australian wine pairings (as well as heavily stocked, self-service bar).

If it’s on the menu, opt for the bugs (not as alarming as it sounds, it’s slipper lobster).

The tent has a large double bed and earth-toned decor, in keeping with the landscape.

The outdoor en-suite bathroom is dreamy first thing in the morning; picture yourself showering to the soundtrack of the ocean.

There’s no getting away from the fact that you’re still camping, albeit in luxury.

There’s a three-minute shower policy to preserve water, and with Australia famously home to a party of the Earth’s most poisonous insects, I always felt ever so slightly on edge, especially while using the ‘nature loo’.

I was meticulous about keeping my suitcase firmly zipped up with all my belongings inside, so as not to find a giant spider hiding in my trainers (I’m still traumatised by the one I found in the sink).

There is no aircon (which was perfectly fine during August, Australia’s winter), and just a torch for when night falls, which I’ll admit, did creep me out a bit.

Despite all this, Sal Salis gifted me with moments I’ll never forget.

As you walk back from dinner, you do so under a sky packed with stars. And, if you listen carefully as you fall asleep, you can hear humpback whales whistling in the distance. It’s a remarkable place to stay.

No wukkas

‘No wukkas?’ I asked Justin, during our whale shark swim. ‘What does that mean?’

’No f*cking worries,’ came the reply, with a smirk. ‘When you’re out in the Ningaloo, what have you got to worry about?’

He had a point. From the gorges that seem to slice through the Earth, to the gentle giant whale sharks, the sheer scale of this part of the country certainly puts life into perspective.

Both exhilarating and impossibly laid-back, a trip to Ningaloo Reef is one you’ll never forget.

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