I’ve had some incredible mornings in my life—coffee at sunrise in Ubud, hiking at dawn in Bromo, a golden beach walk in Sri Lanka—but none of them compare to the morning I spent chasing whale sharks in Saleh Bay.
This wasn’t just a tour. It was a slow unraveling of awe, from the second my hotel door opened to the moment I found myself floating beside a gentle, spotted giant in the middle of the sea.
If you’re curious what a whale shark tour Sumbawa actually feels like—this is it. All of it.
4:30 AM – Knock at My Door
It was still dark outside when I heard the gentle knock. The kind that says I don’t want to wake the whole hotel—just you. I had barely slept, partly from excitement, partly from nerves.
Shoes on. Bag packed. GoPro ready. I stepped outside and was greeted by Dimas, the soft-spoken driver from the tour operator.
“Ready?” he asked, smiling. I nodded.
And with that, the journey began.
5:00 AM – The Road to the Dock
The roads were quiet. We passed a few motorbikes, a few roosters, and some sleepy warungs just starting to light their fires. Dimas didn’t talk much, which I appreciated. I watched the horizon start to turn from black to soft gray.
He pointed once, just as the sky started to glow orange.
“There,” he said. “That’s where we’re going. Saleh Bay.”
I could already smell the sea.
5:40 AM – Wooden Boat, Salt Air
When we reached the dock, the boat was already waiting—a modest wooden vessel with chipped paint and charm. A few others were already onboard, sipping warm coffee from thermoses and adjusting their snorkel gear.
The sea was calm. It looked like a mirror stretching out to the ends of the earth.
The guide, a local named Fikri, welcomed us with a grin. “We go slow. Be patient,” he said. “This is nature. Not a theme park.”
I loved him instantly.
6:15 AM – First Light Over the Bay
As we moved into Saleh Bay, the sun began to rise behind us. Light spilled over the hills, and the water turned a soft silver-blue.
The boat cut its engine.
In that stillness, we could hear every sound—waves slapping gently against the hull, birds calling from the cliffs, the distant creak of a nearby bagan (traditional fishing platform).
Then came the whisper:
“Look. There.”
6:30 AM – The First Sighting
It wasn’t dramatic. No big splash. Just a slow, steady shadow sliding just beneath the surface.
“Whale shark,” someone said quietly.
It was maybe 7 meters long. Its spotted back shimmered in the light. I watched it loop slowly around the platform, mouth open, filtering plankton.
There was no rush. No crowding. Just silent reverence.
6:45 AM – Into the Water
My mask was already on. I sat at the edge of the boat, my heart thumping like a drum.
And then—I slid in.
The water was warm. Clear. The surface rippled above me, and then, there it was.
The Sumbawa whale shark.
Ten feet from me. Calm. Enormous. Beautiful.
It moved like a galaxy come to life. I kicked gently, not to chase, but to drift alongside. Just being near it was enough.
7:00 AM – A Dance Below the Surface
For the next hour, I lost track of time.
We saw more whale sharks—three, maybe four in total. Each one slightly different. One had a scar across its dorsal fin. Another moved fast and deep, only brushing the surface occasionally. The biggest was over 9 meters. A true gentle giant.
We never touched them. Never cornered them. Just observed, shared space, and whispered gratitude into our snorkels.
8:15 AM – Back on the Boat
When we climbed back into the boat, everyone was quiet.
Some smiled. Some stared off into the distance. One guy sat at the front of the boat, wet hair dripping into his lap, looking like he’d just met God.
Fikri poured hot ginger tea for us and said, “They’re kind to us. We must be kind to them.”
I nodded, holding the cup tight between my hands.
If you’re wondering how to do this the right way—with respect, with heart, and with real connection—I recommend this one without hesitation:
<a href=”https://whalesharksalehbay.com/whalesharks-sumbawa-2-days/”>Saleh Bay whale shark tour</a>
9:00 AM – The Ride Back
The sun was higher now. We passed a few fishermen casting nets. Kids waved from a beach in the distance. The boat rocked gently with the current.
And me? I sat at the back, eyes half closed, salty hair whipping in the wind, thinking:
I’ll remember this morning for the rest of my life.
What Made It So Special?
- It was quiet. No mass tourism, no chaos, just peace.
- It was real. The whale sharks came on their own—no tricks, no feeding.
- It was deeply respectful. The crew briefed us, watched over us, and made sure the animals were never stressed.
- It was emotional. I wasn’t expecting that. But something about floating next to a wild, 8-ton creature touches a part of you that doesn’t usually get touched.
Final Reflections
That morning changed me.
Not in a dramatic, “I-sold-everything-and-moved-to-the-jungle” way. But in a quiet way. A deeper appreciation. A stronger connection to the ocean. A reminder that magic still exists when we slow down and listen.
If you ever get the chance to take a whale shark tour in Sumbawa, take it. Take it and bring your whole heart.