Is it a whale? Is it a shark?? I don't know!

I'm about two months late in posting this, but traveling up the west coast of Australia is a bit like being back in the late 80s/early 90s: no mobile phones, no internet, and a lot more denim.

Actually, the no service thing worked really well until I found out that after two weeks Jen began picturing my body lying in a ditch, and by the beginning of the third week she'd started to call the calvary (aka my family) :) but real talk- there is NOTHING out here for MILES.

There is one coach that travels up the coast a couple times a week, from Perth to Broome. I decided to leave Monkey Mia early and hopped the bus up to Coral Bay, which is about 600 km further north and is the gateway to the Ningaloo Reef.

So I definitely stole this picture, but it doesn't matter because I could have taken it- this is exactly what it looks like. The sand is blindingly white and the water so shallow that it is perfectly clear and barely laps at your ankles for a good 50 meters from the beach. Walk another 50 and you've hit the Ningaloo Reef- literally. By the time you're up to your knees in water, there are big rainbow colored fish nibbling on your toes (also literally).

Another stolen picture...

The Ningaloo Reef is 300 kilometers of fringing reef. This type of reef borders the coast and protects the shore from waves, which break way out at sea at the edge of the reef flats. It is also the only extensive reef to be on the west coast of a continent and is absolutely gorgeous. It's made mostly of green and brown hard corals (as opposed to the colorful soft corals of the Great Barrier) but is utterly unspoiled.

Looking out from the beach, the water looks clear for about 50 meters, bright turquoise for another hundred meters, and then black. There isn't a gradual color gradient either- the ocean floor drops abruptly beneath your feet, creating a distinct line. I almost started to panic when I did a quick 360 and realized I was surround by black water, but the second you duck below the surface, your world is again that brilliant turquoise and vibrant with fish, turtles, rays and whales.

My camera was crap, but can you see the two turtles below?

Next stop was Exmouth, which is about 200 km north and still bordered by the reef. Why go to Exmouth? Only because you can pay a bunch of money to swim with whale sharks and have it be worth every. single. penny!

It's actually not that much. Less than what you pay to dive with great whites, I can tell you that! AND I actually saw something! (I swear I'm really not bitter... anymore)

Is it a whale? Is it a shark?? I don't know!

ACTUALLY, the whale shark is a shark- the world's largest, to be exact. A gigantic filter feeder fish that eats plankton, is cold blooded, breathes through gills, has a skeleton made entirely of cartilage, and skin that is four inches thick.

I will just say it now: swimming with whale sharks = most wicked experience ever! We boarded a boat which took us out way past the reef to the middle of the ocean. The crew then passed out our gear and explained what we were about to do using very helpful diagrams and bracing words of encouragement:

"Oi! If you manage to miss this massive fish and get eaten, you're a flamin' idiot and that shark just did us all a favor."

Because they are cold blooded, whale sharks often bask near the surface. Each company uses spotter planes that radio down to the boats when they find a shark. The skipper will then position the boat directly in the shark's path, maybe a hundred meters away.

**BTW: If you ever choose to do this, go with Ningaloo Reef Dreaming. They are the only company with their own plane which means we didn't have to share our sharks! Everyone got to spend almost an hour swimming with them that day.**

Standing at the stern, there was a moment's thrill before a very hairy man with an unlit cigarette dangling precariously from his lip was screaming "GO!GO!GO!" like we were starring in a military movie, jumping out of a plane into the jungles of Vietnam. I don't know if it was meant to add to the experience or if he had just knocked back a Red Bull, but it was very effective.

I flung myself wildly off the side of the boat with my usual grace and poise, and when I opened my eyes I was rewarded with a front row view of the most massive (MASSIVE!) mouth ever (EVER!!). It spans the width of the whale shark's head and can measure up to four feet. I definitely inhaled a lot of water and promptly let out a stream of four-letter bubbles.

Jonah and Pinocchio being swallowed by whales seems extremely possible now, right??

After frantically swimming out of the way, I fell in beside my first whale shark. I've named him Norm. Norm was young, measuring about 8 meters; full grown sharks can reach 12-14.

The water was choppy that day and our boat had been the only one to go out. With my head above water, it was easy to be aware of the power of the elements and the ocean and how physically limited humans are. I could hear the wind whistling and sense my body bobbing along in the swell... I knew my hands were cutting into the waves, could feel my legs kicking furiously, but for all the good it seemed to be doing, I might as well have been a rubber duck in a tub.

The scene below the surface, however, was so surreal. It was silent, still, and a calming cerulean blue. Norm barely moved as he glided effortlessly through the water. I can't explain to you how something that large moves with such grace, but I CAN tell you that it is not just from being in water. Because I've tried that. And it has not helped. Case in point:

I am the frog on the right. The swan on the left is Tiffany.