The Secret Gili: Discovering the Magic of Gili Asahan

There are still a few corners of the world that feel untouched, places where Wi-Fi can’t find you, time moves at the rhythm of the tide, and the loudest sound you’ll hear is the ocean. Gili Asahan, a small island off the southwest coast of Lombok, Indonesia, is one of those rare, hidden gems.

Most travelers who come to Lombok head north to the famous Gili Islands, Trawangan, Air, and Meno, the ones with beach clubs, yoga retreats, and smoothie bars. But I wanted something quieter. I wasn’t looking for a scene. I was looking for stillness. That’s how I stumbled on the Secret Gilis, a lesser-known cluster of tiny islands along Lombok’s southern coast. Among them is Gili Asahan.

Now, let me just tell you this: it’s not an easy trek to get to Gili Asahan from most places in Lombok. But I can promise you it’ll be worth it. After a few boat rides, an even longer car ride through rice fields and villages where barefoot children waved as we passed, I eventually made it to a small dock, where a wooden boat waited to carry me across the glassy sea.

The short ride felt like slipping into a dream. Beneath the boat, coral gardens shimmered. The water shifted from turquoise to deep sapphire as we neared the shore. Then the island appeared, small, perfect, and impossibly peaceful.

There were no crowds, no motorbikes, no resorts blasting music. Just a stretch of sand, the outline of a tiny village, and a feeling of finding a hidden slice of paradise that the rest of the world has yet to discover.

Life on Island Time

I checked into the Gili Asahan Eco Lodge, a simple but beautiful retreat built from driftwood and thatch. Electricity came from solar panels. Fresh water was precious. Breakfast was served barefoot on the sand, fresh fruit, coffee, and the soft sound of the sea.

At first, the silence was disorienting. In Los Angeles, there’s always noise, car horns, conversations, the low thrum of city life. Here, there was none of that. Just the sound of waves and the occasional rustle of palm fronds.

By the second morning, I’d adjusted to the rhythm. Life on Gili Asahan doesn’t rush you; it invites you to match its pace.

Into the Blue

That morning, I decided to explore the reef. With a snorkel mask and fins, I waded into water so clear it looked like glass. Within seconds, I was surrounded by a living kaleidoscope, coral gardens in soft pinks and purples, schools of tiny silver fish moving like one body, flashes of neon parrotfish darting through the light.

And then, there it was, the bluest starfish I’ve ever seen. It was the color of cobalt, so vivid it almost didn’t look real. I hovered above it, suspended in that turquoise world, watching sunlight ripple over its arms.

A few feet away, something small moved. A tiny octopus, no bigger than a silver dollar, glided gracefully across the sand. Its skin shimmered like silk, shifting from brown to gold to flashes of iridescent blue. It was mesmerizing.

Later that day, I showed a photo of it to a local guide, proud of my little discovery. He smiled and said gently, “Ah… that’s the blue ringed octopus, beautiful, but one of the deadliest creatures in the ocean.”

I laughed, half in shock, half in awe. Of course, the cutest thing I saw turned out to be lethal. That felt like the ocean’s little reminder: beauty and danger often share the same space.

I spent hours out there, floating over coral gardens, watching clownfish peek from anemones, and feeling completely disconnected from the rest of the world. There were no boats, no crowds, just me, the sea, and the sound of my own breathing through the snorkel.

Riding into the Sea

By afternoon, the island slowed even more. The sun hung low and golden, and the air turned syrupy and warm. Most days, I’d stretch out in a hammock with a book or take the kayak out to the neighboring islets.

But one afternoon changed everything. It was time to swim with the local horses, the reason I took the full-day trek to discover this island in the first place.

Imagine swimming side by side with 10 of the most beautiful horses you’ve ever seen. We swam beneath a soft pink sky. The ocean was still, the air thick with salt and light. The world fell silent except for the sound of our movements, the rhythm of their hooves against the water, the slow exhale of the tide.

It was one of the most dreamlike, cinematic moments of my life, the kind you don’t plan or photograph because it feels too sacred to interrupt. For a few perfect minutes, I forgot about everything: the deadlines, the phone calls, the city noise. There was only the sea, the horses, and the horizon.

When I tell you I’d make the 24-hour trek 10 times over again for that experience, I mean it.

The Soul of the Island

On the far side of Gili Asahan lies a small fishing village where life feels untouched by time. Fishermen mend their nets under the palms. Children chase chickens along sandy paths. Women hang fresh fish to dry in the afternoon sun.

Everyone I met radiated a quiet warmth. They don’t see visitors as outsiders, just as guests who’ve wandered far enough to find their little island.

That night, I had dinner under a canopy of stars, grilled fish caught that morning, vegetables from the garden, and coconut water poured straight from the shell. The air was warm, the sea close enough to hear. No streetlights. No car horns. Just the Milky Way stretching endlessly overhead.

Some moments don’t need fireworks to leave their mark. They stay with you because they feel real. Gili Asahan doesn’t try to impress you. It just exists in its quiet perfection.

Leaving the Secret Gili

The morning I left, the island was still. A few fishing boats bobbed in the distance. The air was heavy with salt and humidity. As the boat drifted away, the palm trees blurred into the horizon behind me.

Most travelers never see this part of Lombok. They go north for the crowds and nightlife. But down here, tucked into calm southern waters, there’s something far more precious.

Gili Asahan isn’t about indulgence or energy. It’s about presence. It’s the warmth of sand beneath your feet, the shimmer of a starfish below the surface, the steady companionship of a horse swimming beside you at sunset.

For those of us who live fast, who count hours and chase minutes, this island whispers a different way to exist: slow, gentle, human.

I came searching for escape. What I found felt more like returning to myself.

If paradise still exists, you might find it here, on this quiet dot in the sea called Gili Asahan, where octopuses shimmer, horses swim, and the world finally remembers how to breathe.