It started before sunrise. I was sitting in a small wooden boat off the coast of Sumbawa, sipping sweet black coffee while the sky turned from navy blue to gold. Around me were locals, a few other travelers, and that delicious kind of silence that only happens before something unforgettable begins.
The plan was simple: find the whale sharks. But nothing about this place felt simple—it felt untouched, raw, alive. And as our boat glided across the smooth morning water, I could feel it. Something big was coming.
I had signed up for the Saleh Bay whale shark tour with zero expectations and a whole lot of curiosity. I had seen videos, sure. Read blogs. But none of that prepared me for what it’s actually like to spend a day chasing gentle giants in a remote corner of Indonesia.
Into the Bay: The Hunt Begins
“Look for the bagan,” our guide said.
The bagan are traditional fishing platforms—rickety-looking wooden structures that somehow stay afloat, manned by local fishermen who have worked these waters for generations. The lights from the bagan attract small fish, which in turn draw in whale sharks looking for an easy snack.
The idea of hunting down the world’s biggest fish might sound absurd, but this wasn’t that kind of hunt. We weren’t chasing for sport or for show. We were just trying to be in the right place at the right time.
And we were lucky.
The First Encounter: Spotted Majesty
Just past the third bagan, our captain cut the engine. Everyone leaned forward. The water rippled, then parted—and there it was.
A whale shark.
Not a shadow, not a blur, but a real-life, spot-covered sea giant gliding just beneath the surface. My breath caught in my throat.
I grabbed my snorkel, mask, and slid into the water with barely a splash. What happened next is one of those memories that just plants itself deep in your brain forever.
Eye-Level With a Legend
Imagine floating in warm, clear water, completely silent, as a creature the size of a bus swims inches from your face. Its skin is a living painting—gray-blue with white spots arranged like constellations. Its mouth is open slightly, filtering plankton, and it swims with total ease, as if gravity doesn’t apply underwater.
The whale shark didn’t seem to mind us at all. In fact, it seemed curious. It swam slow, turned gently, looped around the boat once, and dove just enough to make us chase.
And we did. Not with urgency, but with wide eyes and silly grins.
That’s what chasing the gentle giants in Saleh Bay really means. You follow them not to catch them, but to keep up—just for a little while. Like kids following a balloon drifting in the wind.
More Than One
By late morning, we’d seen four whale sharks.
One had a scar near its dorsal fin, like a story half-told. Another was massive—close to 8 meters long. One zipped in and out of view like it was playing hide and seek. Every time we thought we were done, another appeared.
They weren’t just fish. They were personalities, moving through their underwater world with quiet confidence. Not performers. Not pets. Just wild, beautiful creatures doing what they’ve done for millions of years.
I couldn’t stop staring. I didn’t want to leave the water.
The Setting: Saleh Bay’s Untouched Beauty
What makes this place so incredible isn’t just the whale sharks. It’s everything around them.
The bay is surrounded by green hills and volcanic ridges. The sky seems to stretch forever. The sea is calm and warm, tinted turquoise near the coast and deep sapphire farther out. It feels wild, but not hostile. Vast, but not empty.
And unlike some popular whale shark destinations, this one hasn’t been overrun. It’s still intimate. Still respectful.
You don’t find many places like that anymore.
Lunch with a View (and a Whale Shark Nearby)
We returned to the boat for lunch, but the magic didn’t stop. As we unwrapped banana leaves filled with rice and sambal, another whale shark appeared near the bow. Just cruising by, as if to say, “Still here.”
Nobody rushed to jump in again. We just watched. Quietly. As the giant slowly made its way past us and disappeared into the blue.
Sometimes, the best part of an encounter is knowing when to simply observe.
What I Learned from a Whale Shark
Spending time with these animals—these gentle ocean wanderers—did something to me.
They don’t rush. They don’t panic. They move with purpose and patience. And even though they’re huge, they don’t make a scene. There’s a lesson in that.
Being with them made me feel… smaller, but in a good way. Like I was part of something much, much bigger.
And it made me grateful. Not just for the chance to swim with them, but for the fact that places like Saleh Bay still exist. Wild. Quiet. Real.