SSI x Edges of Earth: Why Diving Christmas Island is Like Nothing Else
May 27, 2025
The first stride off the dive boat felt like stepping into infinity. Falling into an endless blue, the clarity of the water was so surreal it became almost disorienting. Below me stretched vast coral gardens, their earthy tones—browns, oranges, greens—forming a rich, natural palette. These are not the neon reefs you see in tropical brochures, but something more grounded, more reminiscent of what I am personally accustomed to on dives. They reminded me of the reefs I am used to from diving in Australia —raw, healthy, and so alive. It took me back to the Forgotten Coast, where I first learned to dive, a remote wilderness rarely seen by most. Christmas Island, placed in the heart of the Indian Ocean and far from any mainland, felt just as untamed. For the first time in a year and a half while on expedition, I felt completely at home. I was diving Christmas Island, and it was incredible.
What Makes Diving Christmas Island Special?
For people in the know, diving Christmas Island is often whispered about as a must. But for many, its name is more often associated with its complex history as the site of a high-profile detention center. Positioned near major migration routes, the island became a focal point for Australia’s offshore immigration policies starting in the early 2000s. The detention center housed asylum seekers arriving by boat, creating a tense chapter in the island’s story. It operated for years and was central to international debates about migration and human rights before finally closing.
Now, Christmas Island is reclaiming, what I think, is its true identity—one rooted in its unmatched biodiversity and what is found out to sea. With nearly 75% coral cover, as noted by Christmas Island National Park and Christmas Island Marine Park, it boasts some of the healthiest reefs on the planet.
Located 492 kilometers south of Jakarta, Indonesia, and 2,600 kilometers northwest of mainland Australia, this isolated sea mount (that weirdly resembles a terrier dog on the map if you look closely) has become a true marine epicenter.
Positioned at the confluence of powerful ocean currents, its reefs are not just surviving but actively thriving—a rarity in today’s modern world.
The thing is, prevailing winds and swells dominate Christmas Island for 10 to 11 months of the year, often making many dive sites inaccessible depending on the season. Diving Christmas Island means surrendering to the weather and exploring whichever side of the island it allows.
Most dives typically happen along the northern coastline near Flying Fish Cove, as conditions are usually favorable there. The western coastline, where the Dales and Ramsar wetland are located, is more challenging to reach due to its distance and rough waters. During our visit, however, the winds shifted, forcing us to explore the east side—a remote, rarely visited area accessed via Ethel Beach.
Usually, this side is getting bashed by wind and waves, of which we did get the chance to experience as we made our way to the furthest marked dive site called "South Point," which really is as far-flung as it gets.
Each time I jumped off the SSI-affiliated Extra Divers boat, the only vessel braving the waters as low-pressure systems neared, I could not help but revel in the feeling of utter remoteness. It was a rare privilege to explore these untouched waters, so far away from tropical dive tourism. I was diving in a place I had fallen in love with the moment I glimpsed its sheer cliff drops during our flight in.
Getting to Christmas Island
Speaking of flights: getting to Christmas Island was a little touch and go for us, even though I had been coordinating with David Watchorn, the charismatic manager of Extra Divers, for close to a year. In the days leading up to our departure, I was not sure we would actually make it—and my heart was quietly breaking.
That is because, like its counterpart—Cocos (Keeling) Islands—getting here from mainland Australia is not exactly seamless. The flight from Perth is only four hours nonstop, but logistical hurdles abound.
For instance, the island’s airstrip lacks infrastructure like ground control, meaning the pilot relies entirely on visibility to land. If cloud cover obscures the runway, the plane circles until conditions clear or, if fuel runs low, heads right back to Perth.
Low-pressure systems often bring winds and heavy clouds—both of which make landing an unpredictable gamble. It is not for the faint of heart or the rigidly scheduled. This place is for those who really want to experience diving Christmas Island and are willing to roll the dice.
But, like a Christmas miracle (which was around the time we were on the island), we landed for a week and made it back to Perth as planned. And diving Christmas Island was nothing short of what I had imagined, if not more!
Each dive felt like stepping into a dream—an hour underwater followed by serene surface intervals. Above the waves, the endemic Abbott’s Boobies, Golden Bosuns, and Christmas Island Frigatebirds soared overhead, their cries signaling to us to look up. Every sighting brought cheers from the boat, and between dives, we listened to David share what life is like on this raw, remote island where he manages one of only two dive operations.
From his vantage point, as one of the few eco-tourism operators on the island, what makes diving Christmas Island so special is that the waters are part of the Christmas Island Marine Park, one of Australia’s largest marine protected areas.
Established in 2022, the park spans an incredible 277,000 square kilometers, safeguarding an area that is as ecologically significant as it is vast. The marine park protects this unreal coral reef system, steep drop-offs, and critical habitats for migratory species like whale sharks and spinner dolphins.
Its designation reflects a commitment to preserving biodiversity while balancing the needs of the local community, which relies on these waters for cultural and economic livelihoods.
Diving Christmas Island offers a chance to explore an underwater world largely untouched by human impact—a rarity in our increasingly stressed oceans.
He also went deeper to explain that, here, you will encounter over 575 species of reef-associated fish, from the curious clownfish darting among anemones to schools of surgeonfish grazing the reef. The underwater landscape is alive with goatfish sifting the sand with their barbels, moray eels peeking out from coral crevices, and butterflyfish with their striking colors gliding gracefully.
Pelagic species like barracuda, tuna, and even the occasional whale shark cruise the open waters. On the reef, you will spot parrotfish grinding coral into sand, wrasses tending cleaning stations, and the unmistakable Moorish idol with its bold yellow, black, and white stripes.
A Global Hotspot for Hybrid Fish Species
The island has also become a global hotspot for hybrid species of fish—a phenomenon rarely observed elsewhere—and something David was keen to point out to us. Positioned at the crossroads of the Indian Ocean and Pacific Ocean, the island’s remote location creates a unique environment where species from both oceans coexist and sometimes interbreed.
This interbreeding produces hybrids, a fascinating blend of two parent species resulting in entirely new and distinctive fish. Hybrids have been recorded across several fish families, including surgeonfish, butterflyfish, angelfish, triggerfish, wrasse, and toadfish.
These hybrids often stand out due to their striking and unusual color patterns, blending traits from both parent species. For example, amidst a school of surgeonfish, you might spot an individual with slightly offbeat markings—a clear sign of hybridization. Some of these hybrids are so rare that they have only been identified through isolated sightings, while others are seen regularly swimming alongside their parent species, which had me obsessing over spotting them.
The island is said to be home to at least 11 documented hybrids, which scientists believe occur when one parent species is rare and unable to find a mate of its own kind, prompting it to interbreed with the next closest species. It is a rare glimpse into the adaptive capabilities of marine life that is not entirely on the radar for most divers.
All of this is happening here because Christmas Island began as a seamount—a submerged volcanic mountain that rises from the ocean floor but does not quite reach the surface. Over time, it evolved into the island we see today, surrounded by these rich underwater ecosystems.
The surrounding seamounts, which are hotspot magnets for marine biodiversity, historically attracted commercial fishing. However, these waters are now protected as part of a marine management plan designed to safeguard the environment and support sustainable activities.
The plan designates a 200-nautical-mile area around Christmas Island as a green zone, offering the highest level of protection where activities like commercial fishing are restricted. Closer to the island, within 12 nautical miles, lies the yellow zone, where regulated activities such as recreational fishing and scuba diving are permitted.
Diving Christmas Island in the yellow zone, with David on the lookout to make sure the winds were not coming in too aggressively, we did not spot the elusive whale sharks, nor were we surrounded by sharks on every dive.
But we did encounter bait balls with silky sharks weaving through them, white tips on a mission cruising the reefs, and graceful cownose and eagle rays gliding past, taking a closer look at us. While incredible, that was not the draw for me. It was this reef—unlike anything I had seen in over a year and a half on expedition, where the team and I have been searching for the last remaining wild places that have not been ravaged by human impacts.
That said, the signs of humanity’s reach were not entirely absent. Trash in the water was a real reminder of the challenges faced by even the most remote places. We had been briefed on this issue by the Tangaroa Blue Foundation, a group working relentlessly to combat the marine debris that currents sweep onto the island from Asia.
Depending on the time of year, the beaches—already rare on this sea mount—can become inundated with waste. Even during December, a quieter time for debris accumulation, we found the shoreline marred by plastic, abandoned fishing gear, and an almost surreal number of discarded flip-flops.
To address the issue firsthand, we joined Hayley Cook, Project Coordinator for the Indian Ocean Territories with the Tangaroa Blue Foundation, for a beach cleanup. Through their Australian Marine Debris Initiative, Tangaroa Blue is tracking waste origins to better understand and mitigate the problem.
Each item collected—whether it is a fishing float, a bottle cap, or yet another one of those flip-flops—is cataloged into a national database. This data fuels policy changes, educational outreach, and community engagement, empowering individuals and groups—including divers—to play an active role in protecting marine environments.
During our cleanup, four of us collected over 1,000 pieces of debris from a secluded beach inaccessible to the public, underscoring just how pervasive the problem is. Hayley’s unwavering commitment to tackling an overwhelming influx of trash was both humbling and sobering.
Christmas Island’s shores do not just accumulate local waste; they serve as a global catchment, bearing the burden of pollution from Southeast Asia. Yet Hayley and her crew of regular volunteers on the island turn these cleanup efforts into actionable insights, transforming what seems like an insurmountable issue into meaningful progress.
For me, the experience was a slap in the face—a visceral wake-up call. Witnessing these dive sites and beaches firsthand—beautiful yet scarred—was a reminder of just how interconnected our world is.
If we are lucky enough to visit places like Christmas Island, we must dive responsibly and actively safeguard these fragile ecosystems. That means adhering to sustainable diving practices, respecting marine life, and minimizing our impact while we are here.
But it also extends beyond the water—spreading awareness, supporting local conservation initiatives, and advocating for systemic change. Diving Christmas Island offers a rare, extraordinary glimpse into what a thriving marine world can look like. It is up to us, especially as divers, to ensure these places remain exactly as they are - epic wild patches that stand the test of time.
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Andi Cross is an SSI Ambassador and lead of the Edges of Earth expedition, highlighting stories of positive ocean progress and how to explore the world more consciously. To keep up with the expedition, follow the team on Instagram, LinkedIn, TikTok, YouTube and their website.