Whale Sharks in Bali: Pack Your Shit, They’re in Sumbawa

Bali has a remarkable ability to convince foreigners that absolutely everything they could possibly want exists somewhere within scooter distance of Canggu.

Surfing? Obviously.

Volcanoes? Yep.

Waterfalls? Everywhere.

Yoga? You could accidentally join a yoga class while trying to buy coffee.

Whale sharks? No! There are exactly zero whale sharks hanging around Bali waiting for tourists to swim with them.

This minor biological inconvenience hasn’t stopped an endless stream of wannabe influencers visiting Bali from searching Google for “swim with whale sharks Bali” as though there’s a secret congregation of 12-meter-long fish hiding somewhere behind Nusa Dua.

There isn’t.

If you want to swim with whale sharks while visiting Bali, you’re going to have to leave Bali.

Fortunately, the solution isn’t particularly complicated. A short, relatively cheap flight east lands you on the Indonesian island of Sumbawa, where the resorts disappear, the traffic evaporates and the roads are shared with monkeys, chickens, goats, horses and assorted other livestock apparently operating under the assumption that traffic laws are merely suggestions.

The entire concept of tourism becomes considerably more… agricultural.

DESTINATION: SUMBAWA WHALE SHARKS

FIRST, YOU HAVE TO LEAVE BALI

A short, relatively cheap flight east lands you on the Indonesian island of Sumbawa, part of the same gloriously rugged stretch of Indonesia that eventually leads to Labuan Bajo and Komodo National Park farther east. But while Labuan Bajo has exploded with tourism thanks to Komodo dragons, dive boats and people posing dramatically on Padar Island, Sumbawa still feels wonderfully rural.

The contrast with Bali becomes obvious almost immediately. Bali has spent decades perfecting the machinery of tourism with luxury resorts, private villas, cocktail bars, beach clubs, spas, restaurants and enough avocado toast to sustain several medium-sized countries.

Sumbawa has goats. And chickens. And horses. And monkeys.

Frequently standing in the middle of the road.

Resorts disappear, traffic evaporates and the roads become communal property shared by humans and assorted livestock that appear to have collectively decided traffic laws don’t apply to them.

And that’s exactly why this adventure is worth doing.

The whale sharks aren’t circling some floating platform twenty minutes from your resort. They’re out in the middle of Saleh Bay, an enormous body of water surrounded by mountains and rural fishing communities.

Getting there requires some commitment.

Not Everest commitment.

But considerably more commitment than ordering lunch from Grab.

YOUR FIVE-STAR RESORT HAS LEFT THE CHAT

Most whale shark operators understand that getting tourists from Bali to the middle of Saleh Bay requires some logistics, so trips are commonly packaged as multi-day adventures, usually starting in Sumbawa and maybe Lombok.

Airport pickup, transportation across Sumbawa, accommodations near the boat docks, meals and the whale shark excursion itself are usually bundled together.

The hotels near the docks are perfectly respectable considering you’re staying in rural Sumbawa rather than Singapore.

The rooms are clean.

The beds work.

There’s usually air conditioning.

There’s even Wi-Fi capable of streaming TikTok and Instagram Reels, so don’t worry, society hasn’t completely collapsed… yet.

Then you walk into the bathroom and discover where modern civilization officially ends.

The shower. There isn’t a hot knob. There isn’t a cold knob. There isn’t even the illusion that somewhere inside the plumbing exists a water heater that simply hasn’t warmed up yet.

There is just: ON. OFF.

ON produces cold water.

OFF produces no water.

Those are your choices.

Choose wisely.

NOTHING GOOD STARTS AT 4:00 IN THE MORNING

Your alarm goes off around 4:00 AM, somewhere in that magical window between still drunk and why the hell am I awake?

Outside, Sumbawa is completely dark and quiet – even the chickens are still sleeping.

You climb into a vehicle and head toward the docks, where somebody eventually points toward your transportation for the morning.

And there she is. A handmade Indonesian wooden boat. In complete darkness. Preparing to carry you several hours into an enormous bay.

Anyone raised on American television will immediately recognize the basic premise.

A three-hour tour.

A three-hour tour.

Gilligan didn’t see the problem either.

You climb aboard.

The engine sputters to life, and your little Indonesian S.S. Minnow disappears into the black waters of Saleh Bay.

There are no city lights.

No illuminated coastline.

No recognizable landmarks.

Just black water, black sky and the rhythmic thumping of an engine that suddenly seems responsible for an alarming percentage of your continued existence.

So you sit there bouncing across the bay while quietly hoping Indonesian boat maintenance standards are slightly more rigorous than Indonesian scooter maintenance standards.

SOMEWHERE BETWEEN GILLIGAN AND SUNRISE

For the next 90 minutes, it’s mostly boat shenanigans. You bounce, the engine drones, and occasionally another tiny light appears somewhere in the darkness.

Then the sun begins to rise over Saleh Bay, revealing mountains in the distance and dozens of enormous glowing fishing boats scattered across the water.

These aren’t little recreational boats with some guy named Joko drinking a Bintang. They’re working fishing platforms covered in massive banks of lights that illuminate the water all night, attracting plankton and other marine life while the fishermen do their fishing things.

Apparently nobody told the whale sharks the buffet wasn’t intended for them.

THE WORLD’S LARGEST FISH DISCOVERS THE BREAKFAST BUFFET

Whale sharks are the largest fish on Earth, with adults capable of growing beyond 12 meters.

Despite looking like something capable of swallowing you and continuing with its morning without noticing, they’re filter feeders. Their diet consists primarily of plankton, tiny fish and other small organisms drifting through the water – not humans.

Which makes Saleh Bay’s fishing platforms extremely interesting.

The powerful lights concentrate marine life around the boats overnight, creating what is essentially a floating breakfast buffet.

Sometimes whale sharks show up. Sometimes they don’t. There are no cages. No aquarium walls. No employee in a polo shirt announcing that the 7:15 whale shark experience will begin shortly.

These are wild animals moving around a gigantic bay.

So everyone waits.

Then the radio crackles.

The crew starts talking.

Another boat responds.

Someone points across the water.

And suddenly the relaxing sunrise cruise becomes the Indonesian Whale Shark Grand Prix.

OH SHIT. SOMEBODY FOUND ONE.

The engine roars.

Your boat changes direction.

So does another. And another.

Something has been spotted beside one of the fishing platforms. Within minutes, tour boats begin converging from seemingly every direction.

One becomes three. Three becomes six. Six becomes a shit-load.

My Bahasa-to-English translation is a little rusty, but I’m pretty sure the radio message translates roughly to:

WHALE SHARK HERE. RELEASE THE TOURISTS.

Boats pull alongside the fishing platform while masks, snorkels and fins appear.

People start stripping down.

GoPros emerge.

Phones enter waterproof cases.

Everyone suddenly develops the athletic urgency of an Olympic swimmer despite spending the previous 90 minutes half asleep on a wooden bench.

Then somebody gives the signal.

And dozens of idiot tourists jump into the ocean trying to capture that one photograph for the ‘Gram.

Including me.

Obviously.

I’m not flying from Bali to Sumbawa, sleeping in a hotel where the shower has the technological sophistication of a garden hose, waking up at 4:00 AM and crossing Saleh Bay aboard the Indonesian S.S. Minnow just to sit politely on the boat.

In I go.

I’VE DONE THIS SHIT BEFORE

This wasn’t actually my first time swimming with the world’s largest fish.

I’d previously gone swimming with whale sharks in the Philippines, where most of the sharks were adolescents measuring around 4–5 meters long. Apparently, once you’ve willingly jumped into the ocean with a fish the size of a small bus, the logical next step is to fly to another country and do the same stupid shit again.

Only this time, with bigger fish.

You’d think having done this before would make the whole experience slightly less overwhelming.

It doesn’t.

There’s a considerable difference between knowing how big a whale shark is and watching an enormous spotted silhouette suddenly materialize beneath you.

The first few seconds underwater are complete chaos. Fins, bubbles, cameras and tourists swimming in every conceivable direction, all desperately trying to figure out where the shark went.

Then everyone starts moving toward the same spot.

You look down.

Holy shit.

There it is.

A massive spotted body slowly emerging from the blue, moving with almost no visible effort while every human around it kicks like a drowning Labrador trying to keep up.

And that’s the ridiculous part. Even the adolescent whale sharks I’d encountered in the Philippines were enormous. Seeing a larger one here in Sumbawa makes you realize just how completely insignificant you are in the water.

The whale shark, meanwhile, couldn’t give less of a shit.

It’s here for breakfast.

We’re just the idiots with GoPros.

THE WHALE SHARK DOES NOT GIVE A SHIT ABOUT YOUR INSTAGRAM

The shark circles near the fishing platform while tourists scatter around it attempting to manufacture the perfect wildlife photograph.

You know the one.

The beautifully composed image where you’re calmly swimming beside a whale shark in pristine blue water, appearing to have stumbled into a private spiritual encounter with nature.

What the photograph doesn’t show are the dozens of other tourists immediately outside the frame ‘accidentially’ kicking the shit out of you trying to take exactly the same photograph.

Someone swims through your shot.

Another person performs what can only be described as an underwater collision with absolutely nothing.

Instagram is a magnificent liar.

Eventually, though, the initial chaos settles.

People spread out.

Some climb back onto their boats.

And if you’re lucky, you get a few moments where it’s just you, open water and this enormous animal moving effortlessly beneath you.

That’s when the whole ridiculous journey suddenly makes sense.

The flight.

The drive.

The cold shower.

The 4:00 AM alarm.

The wooden boat.

Gilligan.

All of it.

THIS ISN’T DISNEY WORLD

There’s something important to understand about swimming with whale sharks in Sumbawa.

Wildlife doesn’t read TripAdvisor.

The sharks don’t know you booked a tour.

They don’t care that you flew from Bali.

And they definitely don’t care that you bought a waterproof housing for your phone specifically for this moment.

Sightings depend on fishing activity, plankton concentrations, seasons and a collection of variables entirely outside your control.

You might see several sharks.

You might see one.

You might spend hours cruising Saleh Bay listening to radio silence.

That’s wildlife.

And frankly, that’s how it should be.

THE FISHERMEN ARE THE REASON YOU’RE HERE

It’s easy to forget that this entire experience happens alongside a working fishing industry.

The fishing platforms aren’t tourist props.

The fishermen aren’t actors.

They’re working.

Their lights attract marine life, which helps create the conditions that bring whale sharks into the area. The relationship between fishing, tourism and wildlife here is far more complicated and interesting than simply saying, “Look! Big fish!”

Whale shark tourism has also brought visitors into rural communities that previously saw relatively few international tourists.

That means guides.

Drivers.

Boat operators.

Guesthouses.

Restaurants.

And money flowing into communities far removed from Bali’s tourism machine.

But more tourists also means more responsibility.

Give the sharks space.

Don’t touch them.

Don’t chase them.

Don’t block their path.

And don’t become the jackass trying to ride one because twelve seconds of TikTok fame apparently seemed worth abandoning several million years of human evolution.

Take your photographs.

Enjoy the experience.

Then get the hell out of the animal’s way.

GILLIGAN EVENTUALLY HAS TO GO HOME

After enough swimming, photographing and general aquatic shenanigans, everyone climbs back aboard.

Wet.

Exhausted.

Probably beginning to sunburn.

Memory cards considerably fuller.

The fishing platforms shrink behind you as the boat starts the long journey back across Saleh Bay.

Except now it’s daylight.

For the first time, you can actually see the landscape you crossed several hours earlier.

Mountains surround the bay. Small villages appear along the shoreline. Fishing boats move across the water.

And you begin realizing exactly how far you’ve traveled.

The boat keeps going. And going. And going. At some point you start thinking about Gilligan again.

SO, CAN YOU SWIM WITH WHALE SHARKS IN BALI?

No.

Let’s make this extremely simple for Google.

There are no whale sharks around Bali offering reliable swimming encounters.

If you’re searching for whale sharks in Bali, what you’re actually looking for is a trip from Bali to Sumbawa, followed by a journey into Saleh Bay.

Yes, it requires a flight.

Yes, you’ll probably spend a couple nights in rural accommodations.

Yes, your shower may possess exactly one technological feature: water.

Yes, you’ll wake up at an hour normally associated with terrible life choices.

Yes, you’ll spend hours bouncing across the ocean in a handmade wooden boat.

And yes, when the radio announces that a whale shark has appeared, every tourist boat within radio range comes hauling ass across the bay like someone yelled FREE BINTANG!”

Then you’ll put on your mask.

Jump into the water.

Look beneath you.

And watch one of the largest animals you’ve ever seen glide effortlessly through the blue.

I’ve now done it in the Philippines and Indonesia.

It still doesn’t get old.

Sometimes the best thing you can do in Bali is leave.