MY TRAVEL JOURNEY
Out of Office
Fiona Carruthers swaps inboxes for a barefoot escape to Sal Salis, where shared tables, beach walks and swimming with marine giants prove luxury is also about the company you keep.
WORDS Fiona Carruthers
Paradise, if not entirely lost, should be at least tricky to find. Even when it’s on your doorstep.
As a former travel editor of a major newspaper I‘ve spent days bumping down dusty bush tracks to steal one night at the breathtaking Cobourg Peninsula in the Northern Territory, and endured the relay of flights required to bunny hop to the furthest limits of Arnhem Land.
So when looking for a local ‘big trip’ for my long service leave last year, I didn’t imagine the journey should be easy. Nor was deciding where to go.
Over the years, I’d commissioned a few writers to head out to Sal Salis Ningaloo Reef on Western Australia’s remote northwest coast. I was always struck that no-one ever returned disappointed from this stretch of coastline located between Carnarvon and Karratha, bordered by Cape Range National Park. At most, guests noted the occasional rustle of their canvas tent moving to nature’s natural hum.
My husband Nick warned that unfortunately, he’d be work-busy when we planned to go in late July to capture the all-important whale shark season. He requested the journey entail Wi-Fi at all times, quick travel connections, and plenty of downtime to catch up on emails, combined with minor interaction with other guests, us both being more the shy, retiring types when on holiday.
I vowed Sal Salis would meet all these requirements. Then booked the two flights (including a layover in Perth (Boorloo)) and transfer and failed to mention that all meals were at communal tables, plus Wi-Fi was patchy.
“What?!” he thundered as we prepared to land in Perth. I soothed him with pictures of whale sharks, romantic red-streaked sunsets, and the promise of morning kayaks to spot baby turtles.
“Sitting in our tent in the dunes on day one, I felt like a nomadic queen surveying her private beach.”
ALL’S WELL THAT ENDS WELL
On first sighting, the ethereal beauty of Sal Salis knocks you out. Literally, given the sea air is so fresh. But the real joy is in feeling the destination get under your skin with that first barefoot step from the main lodge (where meals are served) onto the sand. Sitting in our tent in the dunes on day one, I felt like a nomadic queen surveying her private beach.
Picture eco-luxury safari-style tents with wooden floor boards, a five-star queen-sized bed, plus open air shower and compost toilet. We surrender entirely to the vibe of long languid days. After three nights, it turns out, I did have a complaint. Despite all the languishing punctuated by the thrill of marine and wildlife spotting, the time went so fast – the days sped up by constant laughter and chatter.
Like us, most guests initially seemed coy; keen on ring fencing their downtime. We ran the full gamut of stereotypical ‘remote luxury’ travellers: from a young Italian couple on their honeymoon to an early 40s Sydney couple finally escaping their young kids (left at home with the grandparents), through to Nick and I in our 50s, and a gentle widowed grandmother from Perth. Sal Salis has just 16 tents, and while everyone respects each other’s privacy, by the second day, we were definitely “all in”. We could be found talking over meals with great animation about the best snorkelling spots and comparing the mesmerising experience of swimming with whale sharks, those goofy looking dinosaurs of the sea, with mouths that can stretch to four meters wide.
Each night, after the three-course dinner, much life advice was exchanged under the stars – both the advice and the sky enhanced by the excellent West Australian wines on offer. As we flew out of Exmouth (Ningaloo), I asked Nick how his inbox was looking. “Not sure, haven’t checked,” he yawned, adding, “I was wondering where we should go for dinner in Perth tonight.” We missed our Sal Salis buddies already.