I didn’t expect Heron Island to become such an anchor point in my life. The first time I went — back in May 2023 — was for a university trip. I stayed at the research station, sleeping in a bunk bed with five other people. The room was always full of sandy clothes, damp towels, and the excited chaos of students coming and going. It wasn’t glamorous, but it didn’t matter.
Because that trip was where everything changed.
I snorkelled in the harbour during my free time — the first proper snorkelling I’d done in years — and it reignited something I’d forgotten I needed. It’s also when I started to fall in love with sharks. Before that trip, I feared them; after that trip, I respected them. I realised how many different species there were, how different they all looked and behaved, and how little there is to fear. Since then I’ve been utterly fascinated by them.
I left Heron Island that week knowing I’d be back.
Returning Late Summer 2026
Earlier this year, as summer drew to a close, I returned to Heron Island for my birthday. A four‑day getaway felt like the perfect gift to myself.
The ferry ride back over was almost like a roller coaster, bouncing over the swell in a way that made half the passengers nervous and me quietly delighted. I’ve always loved being on the ocean; it’s where I feel most at home.
As we approached the island, the familiar shipwreck jutted up from the water as we cruised down the channel. A few short, minutes later we were walking across the sun‑bleached jetty, greeted by white sand, warm wind, and water so vividly turquoise it barely looked real.
And then there was the noise.
Heron Island is loud in the best possible way. Birds were everywhere, calling from dawn until long after sunset, and waves crashed constantly along the outer reef edge. It’s a kind of noise that feels alive, like the island is breathing around you.
With no phone signal and limited paid wifi, it becomes surprisingly easy to disconnect from everything else and simply connect with nature and the rhythm of the island instead.
Reef Flat & Harbour Swims
Once the tide came in and the harbour opened, I was straight in for my first snorkel. The visibility wasn’t perfect, but it ended up being the best of the whole trip.
The weather and the water were warm enough that even I — famously cold‑blooded — never needed a wetsuit.
I ended up getting plenty of footage — turtles, blacktip reef sharks, rays, and the usual harbour regulars drifting through the shallows.
Across the next two days, I swam the harbour and reef flat every morning and night. Even as the visibility slowly dropped with the incoming storms, the marine life didn’t stop. I saw:
- blacktip reef sharks cruising the shallows
- turtles lazing on top of the corals
- shovelnose rays lying on the sand
- cowtail rays and eagle rays gliding past
- and even lemon sharks cruising through the shallows
Swimming with the lemons was a huge highlight. Three of them came close enough — and swam slow enough — that I got to drift alongside them, including two big females. Lemon sharks are in my top three favourite animals, so those moments felt like absolute gifts. The joy and awe I felt in that moment are something I cannot put into words; they were just magnificent.
The only sad part was that as the visibility dropped throughout the trip, my camera couldn’t capture what I was seeing. And to make things worse, my reef‑safe sunscreen got onto my camera housing and refused to come off — so the last harbour videos and a few from one of my boat trips ended up blurry.
Still, even with low viz and poor footage, any swim that includes sharks, shovelnoses, turtles, eagle rays, or coral is a good swim — let alone all of these in the span of an hour.
Boat Tours & Heron Bommie
Day Two was the standout day — the day when everything aligned — even with below-average weather.
The wind picked up, conditions got choppier, and the resort limited the snorkel tour to “advanced snorkellers only.” That ended up being just me and one other woman. Perfect.
We went out to Heron Bommie and the surrounding reef, and it was unreal.
The coral was stunning — layered, colourful, alive — and the marine life was constant. I saw so many blacktip and whitetip reef sharks, more than I’d ever seen in one place. It was my first time seeing whitetips in the wild, and crossing that off my bucket list felt surreal.
A few eagle rays even swept past together, vanished, then came back around later like they were doing slow, graceful loops.
At one point I dove down to the top of a bommie and found an octopus perched on a coral head, shifting colours as it moved. A few turtles also drifted by, hanging around the surface to come up for air.
That tour became the highlight of my trip.
I ended up doing another snorkel tour to Coral Canyons the following day. Unfortunately, the visibility wasn’t great, there were more people, and it was guided (not my favourite), but I still saw turtles and reef sharks and got to dive down through the canyons. It was definitely worth it, though I’d imagine it’d be amazing on a nicer day.
Heron Bommie definitely won by a mile.
Turtle Hatchlings & Nesting Turtles
The first night on the island was pure magic.
There were multiple turtle eruptions along the beach — tiny hatchlings bursting from the sand and racing toward the water as the sky turned a deep, glowing orange behind them. Everywhere I looked, more were emerging. Their little flippers made cute little pitter patter sounds as they hurried across the sand towards ocean.
It was both beautiful and heartbreaking as seagulls swooped in from above and blacktip reef sharks waited in the shallows, picking hatchlings off as they reached the water. It was a reminder that nature is beautiful and wild and harsh all at once.
I got so distracted watching the hatchlings that I had to sprint back across the island to make my dinner reservation, where I stumbled upon a hatchling eruption all to myself. Thankfully, the resort staff were very understanding.
I was also lucky enough to see a few late‑season nesting turtles digging their nests in the mornings and then returning to the sea as the sun rose behind them. The sky was soft pink, the beach empty, and it felt like a quiet secret the island shared only with early risers.
Reef Walking & Jetty Watching
I did a few reef walks during the mid‑day low tides, though the water never dropped low enough to find an epaulette shark — something I’d really hoped for. The reef flat was still beautiful, but I didn’t see too much that was exciting; I’m more of a snorkeller, and watching people step on coral made me cringe.
When the storms rolled in and the water clarity dropped even further, I perched on the jetty and watched the animals from above — sharks gliding beneath me, eagle rays breaching, turtles surfacing for air. Even without being in the water, the island never stopped offering something to watch.
Leaving Again
The last day was too stormy to dive, so I sat inside going through my footage while the rain battered the cabin. The ferry ride back was wild — waves slamming the hull, people turning green — but I loved it. It felt like the island giving me one last chaotic goodbye.
Somehow wild, peaceful, chaotic, and beautiful all at once, Heron Island is a place I know I’ll keep returning to.
Want to experience Heron Island for yourself? Check out our article: Heron Island Snorkelling and Diving Guide
See our video below for highlights from the trip:
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