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Every grade schooler knows that Australia’s Great Barrier Reef is the world’s largest. The stuff of Attenborough doc legend, it’s also one of Australia’s biggest draws, attracting 2.4 million travelers to its vast marine park last year.
But across this island continent, more than 2,100 miles away (about the same distance from New York to Los Angles as the Airbus flies), there is another vast, unspoiled reef that we doubt your 7-year-old knows much about. It doesn’t see millions of international tourists — in fact, barely 200,000 people visit in a given year.
There aren’t grand luxury resorts, either. Aussies in caravans and intrepid backpackers pitching camp constitute society — with one bright exception (more below).
Here, in the rugged Outback in Western Australia’s north, the red desert meets the sea, and in the main town of Exmouth (pop. 2,486) emus wander the main street, hunting for French fries outside (and sometimes inside) the local pub.
This is the Ningaloo Coast, a World Heritage Site with 160 miles of aquamarine reef waters. Unlike its “greater” cousin a world away off Australia eastern coast, which requires a flight to an island and then a cruise to access, Ningaloo reef hugs the landmass.
It’s known, to the extent that it is known at all to those outside Australia, for its whale sharks. Each year, from March to August, hundreds of these docile filter-feeding mega-sharks cruise to these rich waters to feed, giving visitors a chance to snorkel alongside. But humpback whales, large rays, a plethora of turtle species and more minute aquarium delights are as plentiful.
In Ningaloo, you’re closer to Jakarta than to Sydney, and the lack of development, the dearth of pollution, the wonderful isolation, has preserved its reef to an extent that can rarely be found today in the dredged, commercialized, bleached-dead elsewhere. If ritzy reefs of the Maldives, Polynesia, and Belize are the black-tie events of snorkeling, then the waters of Ningaloo call for sponge-bags and spats.
That goes some way to telling why you should visit, but there’s also the how of it.
Start by flying to Perth. There are several more or-less equal ways to do that, which come down to preference alone. Although your precocious third grader will likely tell you that Perth is the most isolated major metropolis on planet earth (pop. 2.3 million in the sprawling greater limits), it has a surprisingly connected airport. It has directs from London, Rome and Paris, as well as Singapore, Hong Kong, Doha, Dubai, etc. No matter how you slice it you’ll be in the sky for a minimum of 24 hours, so break it up by adding a mini-vacation in Europe or the sultry East. That’s the recommended pill.
Once arrived, acclimatize, spending precious days in Perth as your jet-lag hangover mellows. This isn’t modern, see it in an afternoon and be back before supper, travel. This is olden peregrination, set to a steam-ship calendar.
Plan a month if you can; two weeks at the very minimum. There is plenty to do and see in and around Perth.
Eventually, you’ll want to book a flight on to Exmouth. You’ll land in elfin Learmonth airport, which is mostly used by the military (no photographs, please). From here it’s a jaunty 75-minute drive on the single ring-road that skirts Cape Range National Park, which divides the gulf side of the peninsula from the ocean reef.
Your carriage will be waiting, because the sane among you will have booked at Sal Salis, the area’s only luxury accommodation (it’s a member of the continent’s prestigious Luxury Lodges of Australia portfolio), and they pick up.
Yes, ocker Aussies and Norwegian college student types make the 14-hour drive from Perth and roll out swags along the beach — you’ve come too far to play at that.
We say “accommodation” because this isn’t the Ritz or the St. Regis. It is a safari-style camp with drop toilets and no air-conditioning. But the Champagne is cold, and unlimited, and the coursed dinners voluptuous.
At night, the sea breeze cools camp and the sky is strafed with stars.
Service is pretty well tops and your guides will help you plan daily excursions (you’ll want to make a separate pre-booking to swim with the whale sharks, something they’ll gladly assist with prior to arrival).
One of Australia’s many secrets they guard against the outside world is that there is a correct way to do all-inclusive and they long ago discovered it. So here’s the spill: keep it simple. Draw up a generous menu of snacks and beverages with all of the requisite garnishes and accoutrement (and plenty of ice), place it all in a central location and let you get on with it. If you would like a bottle of wine, be it Bollinger or something cheap and cheerful, don’t ask Mom and Dad, just take it. There’s no waiting around for a bartender or signing a chit. It’s 3:30 p.m. and the salt is getting crusty in your hair — so mix your favorite cocktail. Don’t know how? Ask, and someone else will. Mix one for your new Canadian friend while you’re at it. Of course, attracting a civil class of customer in the first place girders this arrangement.
Sal Salis is a mere 15 tents placed in modest distance amongst the dunes facing the reef. Step from your tent and you can be floating with the octopuses and friendly reef sharks in under 60 seconds. It’s built around an open central lodge that is the hub for meals, relaxation and postprandial gin absorption. Rates are roughly $1,200 a night — a steal made possible by the weak Down Under dollar.
But the best reason to visit Ningaloo this coming spring — to give up a big block of vacation days in one go on just a few destinations — is this: The cell service is truly terrible and at camp there is no public Wi-Fi or TV set. Whether it’s for three nights or a week, you can’t doomscroll, you don’t see the news and you won’t receive a single spam-scam call from West Bengal. Blessed art thou.
