Diving Deep into the Magic of Gili Trawangan’s Underwater World

I still remember the moment vividly. Hovering weightlessly about 15 meters below the surface, I was adjusting my buoyancy when a massive green sea turtle glided effortlessly past me, close enough that I could see the patterns on its shell and the ancient wisdom in its eyes. It seemed completely unbothered by my presence, just another day in its underwater kingdom while I was having what felt like a religious experience. That’s Gili Trawangan for you – casually serving up life-changing moments beneath the waves while you’re still trying to remember which way to adjust your BCD.

Related Post: The Upscale Charm of Seminyak’s Beachfront Cafes and Boutiques

I hadn’t actually planned to fall in love with this tiny Indonesian island. Gili T (as the regulars call it) was supposed to be a quick three-day stopover on my way to Bali – you know how these things go. Two weeks later, I was still there, having logged more dives than I care to admit to my bank account. Something about this car-free paradise with its sandy paths and laid-back dive culture just wouldn’t let me leave.

This isn’t going to be one of those sterile “Top 10 Dive Sites” lists that you can find anywhere. Instead, I want to share what it’s actually like to dive here – the heart-stopping moments, the occasional frustrations, and the little secrets I picked up along the way. Whether you’re a seasoned diver or someone who’s just starting to get curious about what’s happening beneath those turquoise waters, I hope my experiences give you a real taste of what makes diving in Gili Trawangan so damn special.

Oh, and full disclosure – my first dive here was a complete disaster involving a leaky mask, a mild panic attack, and my dive instructor probably questioning his career choices. But we’ll get to that.

Getting to Know Gili Trawangan—A Diver’s Starting Point

Stepping off the boat onto Gili Trawangan feels like entering a parallel universe. No cars, no motorbikes – just bicycles, horse carts (called cidomos), and your own two feet to get around. The main strip runs along the east coast, packed with restaurants, bars, and dive shops – so many dive shops. I counted at least 25 during my time there, which seems excessive for an island you can walk around in under two hours, but competition keeps the prices reasonable, so I’m not complaining.

The island has this Jekyll and Hyde personality that took me a while to figure out. By day, it’s all about diving, snorkeling, and lazing on white sand beaches. Come sunset, parts of the island transform into a backpacker party scene that can feel a bit jarring if you’ve just spent the day in zen-like communion with marine life. I ended up staying on the quieter north side after my third night of being kept awake by bass-heavy music. Lesson learned.

Choosing a dive shop was overwhelming at first. They all promise similar experiences with varying degrees of enthusiasm from the staff out front trying to lure you in. I eventually went with Blue Marlin Dive, not because of any extensive research, but because I liked the vibe of the place and overheard one of their instructors patiently explaining nitrogen narcosis to a nervous-looking beginner. Something about his calm demeanor made me think, “Yeah, I’d trust that guy if something went sideways underwater.”

Is it just me, or has Gili T gotten a bit too popular for its own good? The island definitely feels more crowded than the paradise described in my 2015 guidebook. I met a couple who’d been coming annually since 2010, and they swore the place had lost some of its magic. Then again, I met a first-timer who thought it was the most beautiful place she’d ever seen. I guess it’s all about perspective. Despite the growing pains of tourism, the underwater world remains largely untouched by the development happening above – and that’s what we’re really here for, right?

The Dive Sites That Blew My Mind

If you’ve never experienced the underwater world around Gili Trawangan, you’re in for a treat. The diversity of sites around this tiny island and its two sisters (Gili Meno and Gili Air) means you could dive for a week straight and never repeat a site – though you might want to.

Turtle Heaven

True to its name, Turtle Heaven delivered the highest concentration of sea turtles I’ve ever encountered in a single dive. Located off the northeast coast of Gili T, this relatively shallow site (maxing out around 18 meters) makes it perfect for beginners or photographers who want extended bottom time.

On my first dive here, I counted seven different turtles – both green and hawksbill – munching on sea grass or cruising over coral bommies with that signature turtle nonchalance. One particularly large green turtle was so unbothered by our presence that it surfaced for air right next to me, giving me a side-eye that seemed to say, “Yes, I know I’m magnificent. Take your photos and move along.”

The site isn’t just about turtles though. The healthy coral gardens host a riot of tropical fish, from schools of blue-striped snapper to the occasional blue-spotted stingray half-buried in the sand. The relatively mild currents make it an easy, relaxing dive where you can focus on marine life rather than fighting to maintain position.

Wait, actually – I think I’m changing my mind about Turtle Heaven being my favorite site. As amazing as the turtle encounters were, there’s something about the next spot that edges it out…

Related Post: The Cultural Fusion of Jakarta’s Glodok Chinatown

Shark Point

Let’s get one thing straight – Shark Point isn’t guaranteed to deliver sharks on every dive. I learned this the hard way after hyping it up to a dive buddy who then spent the entire 45 minutes underwater looking disappointedly into the blue. But when it does deliver? Pure magic.

Located on the northwest side of Gili T, Shark Point features a sloping reef that descends to about 30 meters. The site is known for its white-tip and black-tip reef sharks, which tend to cruise along the deeper sections. My most memorable dive here started shark-less and I was already mentally preparing my apologies to my expectant buddy. Then, in the last ten minutes, we rounded a coral outcropping and came face to face with three white-tips patrolling their territory.

There’s something primally thrilling about sharing space with these perfectly evolved predators. They’re smaller than you might expect – most around 1.5 meters – but their presence commands respect. They regarded us with obvious indifference before continuing on their way, which somehow made the encounter even more special. We were guests in their world, barely worth noting.

The site also features some impressive hard coral formations and, if you’re lucky, eagle rays gliding through the blue. The current can be unpredictable though – what starts as an easy drift can quickly turn into a workout. Our guide once had to abort a dive here when the current suddenly picked up, dragging one less-experienced diver dangerously close to the “washing machine” area where currents converge. Safety first, people.

Deep Turbo

Not gonna lie – Deep Turbo intimidated me. With depths reaching 30+ meters and its reputation for serious currents, I almost skipped it during my first week. I’m glad I didn’t, because it ended up providing one of the most exhilarating dives of my trip.

The site is aptly named – the “turbo” part becomes immediately apparent when you hit the water. On my dive, we descended quickly along a line to avoid being swept away, then tucked ourselves behind a large coral formation to observe the action. And what action it was! The current creates the perfect conditions for a marine highway, with large pelagics cruising by in the blue.

I spotted my first manta ray here – a massive, graceful creature that appeared suddenly out of the blue, did a curious loop around our group, then disappeared just as mysteriously. The visibility was easily 30+ meters that day, allowing us to see large schools of jackfish forming swirling tornados in the distance.

I won’t pretend it was all smooth sailing. About halfway through the dive, I lost sight of my buddy for a heart-stopping moment when the current shifted. I felt myself being pulled away from the reef and had a flash of panic before remembering my training – a few strong kicks and controlled breathing got me back to safety, but it was a humbling reminder that ocean conditions demand respect.

The site also features some incredible macro life for those who can maintain their position long enough to look closely at the reef – ornate ghost pipefish and leaf scorpionfish were highlights for me. Just don’t get so distracted by the small stuff that you forget to check your air supply – the depth and current make this an air-hungry dive.

I’m still not sure which site I loved most – Turtle Heaven’s reliable magic or Shark Point’s adrenaline-inducing potential. Maybe it’s not about picking favorites but appreciating each for what it offers. That sounds wise, right? (Or like I’m terrible at making decisions, which is also true.)

What I Wish I’d Known Before Diving Here

For all the paradise-like qualities of diving in Gili Trawangan, there are definitely some things I wish someone had told me before I arrived. Consider this the “real talk” section.

First up: those currents. The Gilis sit in the Lombok Strait, which channels water between the Indian and Pacific Oceans. This creates some seriously unpredictable currents that can change direction or intensity mid-dive. During my second dive at a site called “Manta Point,” what started as a gentle drift suddenly turned into what felt like an underwater treadmill set to maximum speed. My legs were burning from finning, and I watched my air supply plummet as I worked to maintain position. Our divemaster eventually signaled for us to go with the current rather than fight it, which was the right call, but it meant we surfaced quite far from our boat. The boat crew was prepared for this (apparently it happens often), but it was a humbling reminder that Mother Nature always has the final say.

Related Post: The Bustling Local Life at Denpasar’s Pasar Badung Market

I’m still not sure if I should’ve pushed myself to dive during that rough weather period in my second week. The dive shop said conditions were “challenging but doable,” and my ego didn’t want to be the only one sitting on the boat. I survived, obviously, but spent most of the dive white-knuckling my way through surge that slammed me into coral more than once. Sometimes the smart choice is to skip a day and live to dive another day.

Another thing – check your dive operator’s credentials and equipment thoroughly. Most shops on Gili T are professional and safety-conscious, but I did see some concerning practices at a few operations (which shall remain unnamed). One had gear that looked like it hadn’t been serviced since the ’90s, and another was sending out groups of 8+ divers with a single guide. When I asked one shop about their emergency action plan, the staff member looked at me like I’d asked for their banking password. Trust your gut – if something feels off, find another shop.

The environmental impact of diving here is also something I’ve been wrestling with. On one hand, dive tourism brings money and conservation awareness to the area. On the other, I saw plenty of divers (some experienced enough to know better) touching coral, chasing turtles for photos, or generally disrespecting the marine environment. During one dive, I spent several minutes collecting plastic bags that had wrapped around coral heads, feeling both righteous and depressed about the state of our oceans. The local dive shops are making efforts – many participate in regular reef clean-ups and coral restoration projects – but it’s a complex problem without easy solutions.

If you’re planning to dive here, bring a reef-safe sunscreen (the regular kind is toxic to coral), consider packing a reusable water bottle to reduce plastic waste, and please, please perfect your buoyancy before finning around delicate coral environments. The reefs will thank you.

Beyond the Dives—Gili’s Underwater Impact on Me

Something changes in you when you spend significant time underwater. It’s not just about the cool fish you see or the bragging rights of reaching a certain certification level. For me, diving in Gili Trawangan shifted something fundamental in how I see the world and my place in it.

There was this one moment during a sunset dive at a site called “Sunset Reef” (creative naming, I know). We were about 15 meters down, and the late afternoon light was creating these ethereal beams cutting through the water. I was hovering over a coral bommie, watching a cleaning station where tiny cleaner wrasse were servicing a large grouper, removing parasites from its gills and mouth. The grouper – a predator that could easily swallow these little fish – was completely docile, understanding the value of this symbiotic relationship.

As I watched this ancient dance play out, a school of thousands of silverside fish suddenly enveloped me, moving as a single organism, their scales catching the light like underwater stars. For a few minutes, I was completely surrounded, part of their world rather than an observer of it. I remember thinking how strange it was that I felt more connected to the natural world in this alien environment than I often did on land.

I’ve become insufferable to my non-diving friends since this trip, by the way. “Did you know that parrotfish create sand by pooping out digested coral?” is apparently not appropriate dinner conversation. I’ve got a whole repertoire of marine facts that I now work into conversations whether they fit or not. I can’t help it – once you glimpse this hidden world, you want everyone to understand how amazing it is.

The perspective shift goes beyond fish facts though. There’s something profoundly humbling about exploring an environment where humans are the awkward visitors, not the dominant species. Underwater, we’re slow, limited in our senses, and completely dependent on technology just to survive. It’s a healthy reset for the ego.

I’ve found myself thinking more about conservation since returning home, too. It’s one thing to read about coral bleaching or ocean plastic pollution; it’s another to see a turtle trying to eat a floating plastic bag because it resembles a jellyfish. These experiences stop being abstract problems and start feeling personal when you’ve shared space with the creatures being affected.

Tips and Thoughts for Your Own Gili Dive Adventure

If you’re feeling inspired to plan your own diving adventure in Gili Trawangan (and I hope you are), here are some practical tips mixed with my personal musings:

Timing is everything. The best diving conditions generally run from April to November, with visibility often exceeding 30 meters. I went in late September and hit the sweet spot – good conditions without the peak season crowds of July/August. That said, even during “rainy season” (December to March), diving is still possible most days, and you’ll enjoy lower prices and fewer people.

Related Post: The Sunrise Trek to Bali’s Mount Batur Volcano

To bring gear or not to bring gear? This was my eternal debate. I ended up bringing my own mask, snorkel, and computer, but renting BCD, regulator, and wetsuit. In retrospect, I wish I’d brought my own fins too – rental fins never quite fit right and gave me blisters. Most shops have decent quality rental gear, but if you’re particular about your equipment or planning many dives, consider bringing more of your own stuff.

Budget realistically. Diving here is relatively affordable compared to places like the Maldives or Australia, but it adds up quickly. In 2023, expect to pay around $30-35 USD for a single fun dive (with discounts for packages), $380-450 for an Open Water course, and $340-400 for Advanced. Factor in accommodation, food, and those inevitable beachside beers, and a “quick diving trip” can expand both in time and budget. Ask me how I know.

Don’t overlook the snorkeling. Some of my non-diving friends had amazing experiences just snorkeling from the beach, especially off the northeast coast where turtles frequently feed in the shallows. It’s a great option for those not ready to commit to diving or for your surface intervals between dives.

For those concerned about the party scene interfering with your dive trip – it’s a legitimate concern. The main strip can get pretty rowdy, especially during full moon parties. If you’re serious about diving (which often means early mornings), stay on the northern or western parts of the island where it’s quieter. Your sleep-deprived body will thank you when that 7 AM dive boat call comes around.

Maybe I’m just lazy, but is diving worth the sunburns, salty hair, and early wake-up calls? There were mornings when my alarm went off at 6 AM and I seriously questioned my life choices as I dragged myself out of bed, muscles sore from the previous day’s dives. Then I’d be sitting on the boat heading out to a site, the morning sun lighting up three perfect tropical islands, possibly with dolphins playing in the distance, and think “Oh right, that’s why.”

One final thought for those who might be hesitant or nervous about diving: I get it. My first-ever ocean dive involved a mild panic attack at 10 meters when I suddenly became very aware that I was breathing underwater (something my brain decided was completely unnatural and dangerous, despite all training to the contrary). My instructor was patient, talked me through it, and by the end of the dive, I was hooked. The dive community in Gili T is generally supportive and used to working with beginners. Don’t let fear keep you from experiencing this underwater world – it’s worth pushing through the initial discomfort.

Why I’ll Keep Coming Back to Gili’s Depths

As my boat pulled away from Gili Trawangan on that final morning, I felt that peculiar sadness that comes from leaving a place that has worked its way into your heart. Two weeks earlier, it had been just another pin on a map, a name I wasn’t even sure I was pronouncing correctly. Now it was a collection of vivid memories, new friendships, and underwater moments that had changed me in subtle but significant ways.

What stays with me most isn’t the most spectacular dive or the rarest creature spotted. It’s the everyday magic of moving through an underwater landscape where life plays out in patterns established millions of years before humans existed. It’s the meditative quality of breathing slowly and deliberately while watching sunlight dance through water. It’s surfacing from a dive to see three perfect islands rising from a turquoise sea, and feeling lucky to be exactly where you are.

Gili Trawangan isn’t perfect – no place is. The growing pains of tourism are evident, and there are legitimate environmental concerns about how development is affecting the marine ecosystem. But beneath the surface, there’s still magic to be found in abundance. Those turtles are still cruising the reefs, those currents are still bringing nutrients and new life, and those moments of underwater connection are still waiting for anyone willing to take the plunge.

I’ve got a growing list of dive destinations I want to explore next, but I know Gili T will pull me back eventually. Some places just get under your skin – or maybe into your bloodstream, nitrogen bubbles and all.

Have you dived in the Gilis or are you planning to? I’d love to hear about your experiences or answer any questions about mine. The underwater world is better when shared, even if just through stories.

About the author: Jack is a passionate content creator with years of experience. Follow for more quality content and insights.