As Above,
So Below
Two Beyond writers, two unique experiences at Ningaloo on Western Australia’s remote north-west coast: from the red soils of the Cape Range to the turquoise waters of the reef.
Out On the Water
WORDS Catherine Best
PHOTOGRAPHY Oliver Clarke, Kate Justice
Go, go, go! In a flurry of fins and neoprene, we flop into the sea. My head goes under, mask fizzing in the whitewash, heart racing, arms flailing. The next instant I’m staring into the eye of a whale shark. She glides beside me like an underwater airship, sleek body studded like the Milky Way. The next wave that washes over me is one of complete calm.
Whale sharks patrol the Ningaloo reef.
Swimming with whale sharks – the fabled biggest fish in the sea – is such an intrinsic part of the Ningaloo experience it’s almost a cliché – if not for it being one of Australia’s greatest marine life encounters. These bejewelled queens of the sea – taxonomically sharks, not whales – congregate in the waters off Ningaloo Reef between March and August in one of the species’ largest known aggregations on Earth.
The whale sharks (measuring up to 12 metres) are so abundant that swimmers have a 97 per cent success rate of viewing. For the unlucky few who miss out, most operators have a ‘no see, swim-free’ return policy. Fortunately, during my visit that’s not necessary. Thanks to the spotter plane buzzing overhead, we enjoy five swims with three slow-moving sharks. No more than 10 people are permitted in the water at once, and when it’s my turn, I feel like it’s just me and the whale shark in this upside-down universe.
Ningaloo’s other seasonal titan of the sea is the humpback whale (July to October), but you can see another marine megafauna species – manta rays – year-round at Coral Bay. The tourist village has the world’s second-largest population of mantas after the Maldives, thanks to a constant supply of zooplankton that flushes through the nutrient-rich waters. When I join a tour, it’s mating season and we’re told to expect anything from one manta to a ‘mating chain’ of 12, eagerly pursuing a female, who can take up to two weeks to choose a worthy suitor. We’re divided into three snorkelling groups and, much like the whale sharks, when amanta is spotted, the boat sidles near and it’s go, go go!
“Swimming with whale sharks – the fabled biggest fish in the sea – is such an intrinsic part of the Ningaloo experience.”
Get a feel for the landscape by camping beach-side.
Today there’s only one, but she’s a beauty – about 3.5m wide, docile, inquisitive, and open to human interaction. We file into the water and follow the manta – a dark shadow with pointed wings and curled cephalic lobes that look like rolled-up napkins protruding either side of her mouth. Occasionally, her lobes close over her mouth like the flippers on a pinball machine, but they’re mostly open. This means the manta is either feeding or happy, our snorkel guide says. The marine critters at Ningaloo have a lot to be happy about. Large swathes of the reef are marine park sanctuary zones, free from recreational fishing under the highest level of environmental protection. This means that when you interact with marine residents, they often show no fear.
On a scuba dive off Exmouth Navy Pier, one of Ningaloo’s best-kept secrets, I have up-close underwater encounters with grey nurse sharks and a groper, aptly named the BFG (Big Friendly Groper), who cares diddly that I’m there. I eye-ball a moray eel with a head akin the size of the Loch Ness Monster and have an audience with a lionfish flaunting a pretty but poisonous plumage of fins.
The Navy Pier is one of Ningaloo’s lesser-known marine experiences – a relic from the days when Exmouth was a WWII naval base, that today remains a restricted Australian military site. Diving beneath the pier – one of the world’s top 10 pier dives – requires timing (dives are only possible during a ‘slack’ tide when there’s no current) and an ID check. It’s a regimented process but the rewards are stupendous. No boat required.
Heading Inland
WORDS Eugenie Kelly
It's 6.35am and as the sun starts to rise over Mandu Mandu Gorge, the craggy limestone escarpment towering above us is thrown into a frenzy of burnt orange and earthy tones. I’m part of a group of six guests from Sal Salis attempting a guided sunrise hike to the top of the canyon’s scenic rim, but stopping us in our tracks are a series of quizzical heads that have popped out from behind the crevice of caves we pass. Rendered frozen, the figures of around 20 black-flanked rock wallabies stand statue-like, awaiting our next move.
A moment of stillness at Sal Salis at dusk
Wallaby in the wild.
The raucous screech of an impressive flock of pink galahs punctures the pin-drop quiet and the mob retreats behind the curtain of rock. Our group clambers on. Across ancient empty riverbeds of white and pink pebbles. Past termite mounds the size of a small adult. We weave our way through low-growing saltbushes, an absurd profusion of desert peas and the last of the spring wattles. We reach the top and stare out across a glorious expanse of turquoise-blue water.
Everyone assumes that all the action happens in the water at Sal Salis – given the luxury eco-certified safari-style lodge sits camouflaged in the sand dunes just 50 metres from the shoreline at Ningaloo coral reef – but I learn that here, there’s as much to experience on terra firma as there is in the ocean.
Let’s start with the sleeping quarters themselves. My safari-style tent sits on a raised platform – connected to the others by a boardwalk – and faces the water. A view I spend every afternoon taking in from my hammock; gin and tonic in hand. It’s here I witness everything from glorious golden sunsets to star-laden skies. The accommodation is rustic, yet luxurious at the same time, with no air conditioning, but when your suite catches the sea breeze and you’re lying swaddled in crisp white cotton sheets, who cares?
It's not until day three of my stay though, that I trulygrasp what an unspoiled pocket of paradise this is, when one of Sal Salis’ nature guides invites me and a group of fellow guests to take a 15-minute drive to the Turtle Rookery. Climbing a series of windswept sand dunes, I’m greeted with an incredible vision. In the turquoise shallow lagoon below are black blobs that turn out to be hundreds of green, hawksbill and loggerhead turtles mating. Hopefully in November, the turtles will lay their collection of eggs, and then in February, the babies will emerge and attempt to make their way back to the water.
Later that evening over a three-course dinner eaten at a long lantern-lit communal table that includes the most magnificent Kingfish Ceviche, Seared Scallops, Confit Duck Leg and a glass of Margaret River wine, we learn that the Sal Salis team strives to constantly reimagine their day tours to vary the breadth and depth of the experiences. From kayaking in Yardie Creek to bird-watching walking tours of Mangrove Bay, you’ve got this scope of incredible nature right on your doorstep. As if on cue, one of the guests returns from their tent, reporting of a glance of a supersized giant sand goanna. Just a typical day on land in Ningaloo.
Need to Know
EXPERIENCE
Nestled into the dunes of the Cape Range National Park, fringed by the Indian Ocean, this remote beachside camp is barefoot luxury at its best. Choose to fill your days at Sal Salis however you like, from whale shark experiences to kayaking, hiking and much more. Sal Salis gives you the chance to disconnect, get back to (luxurious) basics, and be one with nature.