Experience the Wonders of Reefsuites Underwater Hotel

I am 15 feet underwater in Australia’s Great Barrier Reef. In front of me, fish of every size, shape, and color – tiny orange-and-white striped clownfish, silvery giant trevally, candy-colored parrotfish – are swimming around in a joyful frenzy. I feel like I’ve crashed some sort of underwater dance party. Suddenly, the fish dart away at a dizzying speed. Out of the depths, a hideous, shark-like creature with mottled grey skin and bulging eyes emerges, and begins slinking towards me. Suddenly, his jaws open, revealing rows upon rows of thin, sharp teeth. I scuttle backwards, only to find myself trapped – by a pile of soft, thick pillows. I laugh, flooded with relief. This sea monster can’t possibly touch me: I’m watching this entire scene unfold from my king-size bed, in a glass-walled hotel suite beneath the Coral Sea.

Moments like this happen frequently at Reefsuites, Australia’s first underwater hotel. The hotel, which opened in December 2019 just off Hardy Reef, consists of just two suites suspended beneath a floating pontoon managed by luxury tourism operator Cruise Whitsundays. Reaching it is a trek – from Brisbane, it’s an hour-and-a-half flight to Airlie Beach, then a three-hour boat ride over to the reef. But in this undersea sanctuary, you can observe 1,500 species of fish, as well as turtles, rays, and yes, even sea monsters from floor-to-ceiling windows, all without wetting a single toe.

Over breakfast, I tell Thorin, a snorkel instructor, about my near-encounter with the sea monster. ‘Oh, that’s George – he’s deadly,’ he says of the Queensland Groper. ‘He ate a shark once. Last week, he swallowed a whole turtle. He spat out the shell and we found it under the pontoon.’

I’m reminded of this as I sit in bed later that morning, sipping coffee while admiring a green sea turtle glide innocently through the turquoise waters. George’s dinner, I think to myself, a little sadly. Poor thing. And then I watch as the turtle sidles up behind a peacefully bobbing jellyfish and casually rips it in half with its teeth, slurping up its tentacles like spaghetti.

The Experience

‘It’s wild out there,’ says Gabriella, a Reefsuites concierge, as she shows me around my suite. She gestures outside the window at a giant trevally tailing a tiny striped clownfish. ‘This is not an aquarium. This is the ocean. This is the reef.’

Her words echo in my mind. This is not an aquarium. This is the reef.

As a native Australian, I’m all too aware of how fragile the environment is, and how crucial it is to respect it. As I write this, deadly fires rage across the country – my own hometown of Sydney is engulfed in smoke and ash. And it was only two years ago that Cyclone Debbie tore through the Whitsundays, leaving entire islands stripped bare and destroying homes, hotels, and infrastructure. The Great Barrier Reef suffered extensive damage, with some reefs seeing a 95 percent loss of coral – a further blow to an ecosystem already threatened by the effects of climate change (like coral bleaching), and natural predators like coral-killing starfish.

Environmental Impact and Tourism

In a region still very much in recovery, are tourist attractions like Reefsuites adding further harm? It’s a question worth asking. In the past year alone, the region has seen an unprecedented number of new tourism developments. The Queensland Government, in an effort to revitalize the region post-Debbie, pumped about £18.5 million into new attractions, including luxury hotels like the InterContinental Hayman Island Resort, a six-sculpture underwater exhibit, and a permanent underwater museum – the first of its kind in the Southern Hemisphere.

‘It gives more people the chance to see the Great Barrier Reef,’ says Kate Jones, Queensland’s Minister for Tourism Industry Development. ‘Thanks to this new attraction, we’re expecting an extra 60,000 visitors per year to the Whitsundays.’ (The region currently receives more than 2 million visitors annually.)

Underwater Connection

Spending the night underwater allows people to make a connection with the environment that they wouldn’t otherwise get, and that makes all the difference. The increased tourism is, of course, terrific for the economy: Reefworld alone is expected to bring in about an extra £16.9 million for local businesses.

As I watch hundreds of day-trippers pour off the boat from Airlie and plop one-by-one into the shimmering water, I’m reminded of the tourists swarming Machu Picchu and the congested sands of Boracay – and I can’t help but wonder if our increased presence might only be damaging the precious landscape we came all this way to see.

Conservation Efforts

‘When you have 300 people going out on the same section of reef every day, then yes, there’s bound to be some localized damage to the reef,’ says marine biologist Johnny Gaskell, who is based on nearby Daydream Island. ‘Usually, though, it’s not permanent, as corals do recover rather quickly from physical damage, granted it’s not from a cyclone. By concentrating tourism to one small section of the reef, and by carefully managing and controlling it, you’re ultimately able to protect other sites that are more vulnerable and in need of recovery.’

Gaskell also adds that tourism operators are not only limited in where they can operate on the reef, but how. All operators are required to acquire a permit ensuring that they meet strict environmental standards during construction and operation, and work closely with the Great Barrier Reef Marine Park Authority (GBRMPA) to monitor visitor behavior and reef health. This means that every tourist, whether they’re aware of it or not, is actually helping to fund conservation efforts on the reef.

Final Thoughts

As travel becomes increasingly democratic, it’s easier than ever to take our access to these destinations for granted; we flit from one spot to the next, assuming our right to be there and rarely questioning the effects of our presence. But when you’re quite literally out of your depth, staring down the jaws of a 700-pound sea monster, you begin to ask yourself: Should I even be here?

One night, unable to sleep, I found myself gazing out into the infinite blue, overcome with awe and gratitude, asking myself this very question. And in that quiet vastness, I saw the whole thing for exactly what it was: a beautiful and bizarre privilege.

Reefsuites start from about £404 per person, per night.