Into the Blue Vortex: Chasing the Barracuda Tornado on Sipadan Island

 

The boat engine cut, and silence rushed in to replace it, save for the gentle slap of water against the hull. We were bobbing in the middle of the Celebes Sea, miles from the Malaysian mainland. To my left, a small island topped with jungle sat quietly in the turquoise water.

"Okay, giant stride on three," the divemaster said, adjusting his mask. "Remember, watch your depth. The wall doesn't end."

This was Sipadan. And he wasn't joking.

Sipadan isn't just an island; it is the tip of an extinct volcanic cone that rises sharply from the ocean floor. Step off the beach, and you are in knee-deep water. Take a few more steps, and the world simply falls away—a vertical drop plunging 600 meters (2,000 feet) straight down. It is this geological drama that creates one of the richest marine habitats on Earth.

The Drop-Off

Deflating my BCD, I sank beneath the surface and gasped—not for air, but in awe. The "Drop-Off" is dizzying. One moment you are hovering over sandy shallows, and the next, you are suspended beside a vertical cliff face festooned with giant gorgonian fans and barrel sponges the size of bathtubs.

But it was the traffic that grabbed my attention. A Green Turtle, ancient and encrusted with barnacles, glided past my right shoulder, completely indifferent to my presence. Then another. And another. Sipadan is a nesting ground, and on a single dive, it’s not uncommon to stop counting after seeing twenty or thirty turtles. They rest on ledges like old books on a shelf, napping in the current.

Entering the Tornado

We drifted toward Barracuda Point, the island's most famous site. The current picked up, pulling us along an underwater highway.

Then, the light began to dim.

Above us, a shadow blocked the sun. It wasn't a cloud; it was a school of Jackfish, thousands strong, moving as a singular, shimmering intelligence. As I kicked upward to get a closer look, the school didn't scatter. Instead, they enveloped me.

This is the moment every diver comes to Sipadan for—the moment captured in the photo you see above. The fish swirled around me, creating a living tunnel of silver. I was inside the "tornado." It was silent, hypnotic, and utterly surreal to be the center of a galaxy of moving eyes and fins.

Just beyond them, the Chevron Barracudas were forming their own vortex—a darker, more menacing spiral of teeth and muscle. To hang suspended in the blue, watching these massive schools rotate like a slow-motion hurricane, is a spiritual experience. It reminds you that the ocean is not empty; it is crowded, busy, and vibrantly alive.

The Surface Interval

Between dives, we docked at the jetty to rest. You cannot stay on Sipadan; to protect the ecosystem, all resorts were removed years ago. The island is now a park, quiet and wild.

Sitting on the wooden planks, eating a simple lunch of rice and curry, I watched baby blacktip reef sharks hunting in the shallows mere inches from the sand. A monitor lizard lumbered out of the brush to inspect our gear bags. In a world where wild places are shrinking, Sipadan feels like a fortress of nature holding the line.

How to Make It Happen

Sipadan is a "bucket list" destination for a reason, but it requires planning. It is not a place you can just show up to.

• The Golden Ticket (Permits): To protect the reef, Sabah Parks issues only 176 permits per day. These are highly coveted. You generally cannot book a permit directly; you must go through a dive resort on a neighboring island.

• Where to Stay: Since you can't sleep on Sipadan, most divers stay on Mabul Island (a mix of luxury water bungalows and backpacker homestays) or Kapalai. From there, it's a 20-45 minute speedboat ride to the dive sites.

• Booking Strategy: To secure a permit, resorts usually require a minimum stay of 3-4 nights. Book months in advance, especially if you plan to visit during peak season (July/August or Christmas).

• Best Time to Go: You can dive year-round, but April to December offers the best visibility and calmest seas.

As the boat sped back to Mabul that evening, the sun setting over the Sulu Sea, I looked back at the tiny silhouette of Sipadan. It looked small and unassuming from the surface. But I knew what lay beneath—a vertical wonderland where I had danced inside a tornado of silver.