Five of Diving’s Hidden Gems

The last thing you want while diving is a crowd of underwater tourists ruining the vibe.

Diving is all about immersing yourself in a part of the natural world most people never get to see, surrounded by the untouched beauty of reefs and marine life. For us, the magic really happens when you can enjoy it without too many others around.

So, we’ve put together a list of five lesser-known but easy-to-reach dive spots where you can soak up that raw, underwater beauty, minus the crowds.

Jump ahead to:

Kadavu Island, Fiji

Bohol, Philippines

Bahia de los Cochinos, Cuba

Rowley Shoals, Western Australia

Bahama Banks, Bahamas

I genuinely thought I might die on the way to Kadavu.

Rain was pouring down in Nadi and our tiny six-seater plane was already sliding across the waterlogged runway before it even left the ground. Once we were in the air, flying straight into a storm most other pilots had the sense to avoid, the usually chatty pilots went quiet. The plane jolted violently, caught in powerful thermals that tossed us up, then dropped us without warning.

But honestly? The diving made it all worth it.

Kadavu, Fiji’s fourth-largest island, is one of the last places untouched by mass tourism. Its reefs remain wild and unspoiled. On one side of the island, a sheltered lagoon glows with vivid soft corals in calm, clear, warm water. On the other, facing the open ocean, lies the Great Astrolabe Reef—rich in nutrients, teeming with life, and home to some of the most breathtaking manta ray encounters I’ve ever had.

Add a towering volcano at one end of the island, which creates a dramatic underwater landscape filled with barracuda, giant angelfish and reef sharks, and you’ve got one of the best dive spots on Earth.

Most people visit Bohol for the Chocolate Hills, picture-perfect beaches and those adorable wide-eyed tarsiers, but here's my favorite secret: some of the Philippines' best uncrowded diving happens just offshore.

While others jostle for space on packed dive boats, I found myself sharing our small vessel with just four other divers near Balicasag Island. The crew (our captain, divemaster and assistant) buzzed with excitement about the marine life we'd see.

They weren't exaggerating.

At Black Forest, turtles outnumbered divers, including two ancient giants perched like kings on coral thrones. A bold barracuda made a dramatic final appearance. Then came the wall dive: swirling tornadoes of jacks and sardines, golden trevally flashing in the light, a monstrous barracuda hiding in a cave and a gorgonian fan coral so large it took my breath away.

My dive log entry that day said it all: "EPIC.”

Bahia de los Cochinos, better known as the Bay of Pigs, is usually linked to history and soldiers, not diving.

It really should be famous for diving, though, because this hidden gem has some unique spots worth exploring if you want something different. Like much of Cuba, the area is surrounded by calm, shallow water, until you reach a huge drop-off about 120 feet (40 meters) from shore. Because of this, Cuba doesn’t have many big sharks or large fish. A Divemaster I talked to, who’s been diving there for 20 years, said he’s only ever seen four sharks, but smaller fish are everywhere.

That wasn’t the coolest part of my first dive, though.

At first, it was just a calm, shallow swim, until I spotted a massive sunken landing craft left over from the 1961 Bay of Pigs Invasion. It was upside down, sitting right on the edge of the drop-off, with a dark, deep canyon looming below, ready to swallow it up. Swimming over it and then descending into the upper part of the abyss was incredible. After that came a wall dive covered in vibrant coral that was just as amazing.

And then there’s the cave diving.

Cenotes (water-filled caves) are common in Cuba’s limestone areas and perfect for diving. One called Cueva de los Pesces (which means Cave of the Fish) is reached by walking through jungle on the opposite side of the road from the bay’s northern edge. Suddenly, you come to a stunning clear pool full of fish. We dove into the pool and swam through a tiny opening, guided only by our flashlights through the dark cave, until rays of light from above lit up bright blue water surrounded by solid limestone walls.

Both dives were like nothing I’d ever experienced before or since, and unforgettable.

We said “reasonably accessible,” but…

Rowley Shoals are actually a group of three coral atolls way out in the ocean, about 190 miles (300 kilometers) off the coast of Broome, a remote town in northwestern Australia. You have to get there by an overnight boat trip and since there’s nowhere to stay on the reefs, you’ll need to do a liveaboard dive trip for a few days.

Honestly, that’s probably why we haven’t made it there yet!

But it’s too amazing not to include. We’ve heard from trusted sources that because it’s so remote, Rowley Shoals is one of the most untouched, pristine dive spots on the planet. With an incredible 688 types of fish and 233 kinds of coral, it’s a stunning underwater world, and definitely a once-in-a-lifetime adventure.

The Bahama Banks stretch over 40 miles of stunning shallow reefs, but the real magic happens at the edge.

After crossing miles of underwater sand dunes from Eleuthera, we reached the precipice where coral meets endless blue. Plunging into that bottomless void gave me that spine-tingling ‘astronaut’ feeling — suspended in silent darkness, utterly insignificant against the abyss.

Then I turned toward the wall.

A living rainbow exploded before me. Unlike most Caribbean corals in earthy tones, this drop-off blazed with color: massive coral whips reaching into the current like nature's fireworks. Schools of vibrant fish darted through the spectacle, but the real showstopper came when shadowy giants emerged.

Multiple large sharks circled just beyond visibility, their forms blurred by depth and distance. They'd approach curiously before melting back into the blue, leaving us wondering what species lurked in that tantalizing gloom.

The dive was so mesmerizing my buddy burned through air at 90ft, forcing an emergency ascent. A heart-pounding reminder that no dive is worth compromising safety.