The Start: Waking Up in Lombok

My day started before dawn in a small guesthouse near Lombok’s western coastline. It was the kind of morning where the world still feels half-asleep, the air cool, the sky dark. My pick-up came right on time, and soon I was off to the harbor, bundled in a windbreaker, clutching a thermos of instant coffee like it was a lifeline.

The journey from Lombok to Saleh Bay isn’t short. It’s a bit of a trek, especially if you’re not used to being out on the water. But the crew was friendly, the group was in good spirits, and despite the swells, we laughed through it.

Well, most of us did. I’ll admit, I spent part of the ride gripping the railing and questioning my life choices.

Worth Every Wave

By the time we reached the calmer waters of Saleh Bay, the ocean settled like a blanket. The rocking stopped. The wind died down. And all that remained was silence, sun, and the smooth hum of the boat engine.

That’s when someone spotted a shadow in the water.

A ripple.

Then a tail.

“Whale shark,” the guide said, calmly. No big show. No dramatic music. Just a simple statement that made every person on the boat scramble for their fins.

First Contact

I dipped into the water slowly, trying to catch my breath. After hours on a bouncing boat, the ocean felt like silk. Warm, still, almost unreal.

And there it was.

Right in front of me. A whale shark. The size of a small bus, moving as if it had all the time in the world. Its body dotted with white spots, its mouth wide open, feeding on plankton with zero concern for the dozen humans floating around it.

I floated quietly above it, letting my body drift with the current. Every now and then I’d turn my head to see another swimmer, equally still, equally awestruck.

It was peaceful. It was smooth. It was everything the boat ride wasn’t.

What Makes This Experience Different

I’ve done other marine tours—Manta rays in Komodo, turtles in Gili, even dolphins in Lovina. But this was different. It wasn’t just a glimpse. It was an encounter. The kind that makes your chest feel full, like you’ve been trusted with a secret.

What made it even better was how it was handled.

The guides didn’t chase the whale sharks. They let them come to us. There was no feeding, no baiting. Just patience and respect. And I think the animals knew it. They lingered. Circled back. Gave us the chance to witness them without feeling intrusive.

If you’re ever planning a trip and want to see the Sumbawa whale shark from Lombok, I can’t recommend the Saleh Bay whale shark tour enough. It’s more than a tour—it’s a memory you’ll replay over and over.

From Sea Sickness to Sea Stillness

Back on the boat, after the swim, something unexpected happened.

I felt calm.

I thought I’d still be shaky from the earlier waves, but the experience in the water had settled something inside me. I wasn’t thinking about the bumps or the splashes anymore. I was thinking about the way the whale shark’s body curved through the blue, how sunlight hit its back, how it seemed to glide without effort.

And I realized—sometimes, the hardest parts of a journey make the beautiful parts feel even more magical.

Sumbawa’s Hidden Gift

Saleh Bay is one of those places that still feels raw. Untouched. Like the kind of location you’d only hear about from someone who’s already been. And maybe that’s part of the charm. It’s not overly commercial. It doesn’t scream for attention. It just quietly exists—like the whale sharks themselves.

The team guiding us didn’t treat this like a product. They treated it like a privilege. That tone set the vibe for everything—from how we entered the water, to how we spoke on the boat, to how we shared our photos after.

My Favorite Memory

There’s a photo someone took of me, right after I came out of the water. Hair dripping, mask pushed up, big goofy grin on my face. It’s not the prettiest photo, but it’s probably the most me I’ve ever looked.

I was exhausted. Sunburned. Saltwater was in my ears.

And I felt completely alive.

Would I Do It Again?

Yes. A thousand times yes. Even with the bumps. Even with the long travel time from Lombok. Even if I knew I’d get splashed in the face and lose my balance a dozen times.

Because all of that fades the moment you look down and see a creature that’s been on this planet for millions of years just… existing. And letting you float next to it.

There’s no Wi-Fi out there. No phone signal. No background noise.

Just the rise and fall of the sea, the quiet beat of your breath, and a fish bigger than your fears swimming calmly beside you.