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I watched a loggerhead turtle nest at Mon Repos - here's what I learned

The Mon Repos beach. My feet sink into warm sand as I huddle in a group with a dozen other tourists, trying not to make any sudden moves. It's about 7pm, and the sun has set on Bundaberg's Mon Repos beach. It's so dark I can't tell where the shore ends, but I look towards the horizon and see thousands of stars. Subscribe now for unlimited access. or signup to continue reading All articles from our website The digital version of Today's Paper All other in your area This Queensland beach is where most of the world's endangered loggerhead turtles come to nest. Nesting season, in November and December, is a popular night-time attraction before turtle-hatching season between January and mid-March. Out of about 130 eggs per nest, it's believed only about one in 1000 turtles will hatch and survive to adulthood. We're told this species' population has plummeted since the early 2000s for reasons including pollution, fishing, poaching and increasing sand temperatures spawning more male turtles. This makes what I'm about to witness that much more special. Amy, the park ranger, says it's crucial to remain still so we don't frighten a turtle who has landed after swimming for thousands of kilometres. A 41-year-old loggerhead turtle digging her nest at Mon Repos beach. Picture: Bageshri Savyasachi "Be very quiet," she says. I notice a smudge in the dark, a few metres in front of me, slowly crawling up mounds of sand. The ranger goes up to the creature and waves our group over after a few minutes. We gather around as Amy shines her torchlight on the turtle, who has already laid about 20 eggs in her nest. The turtle drops the eggs, which look like slippery golf balls, down a narrow hole as park rangers mark the nest and simultaneously take notes about the mum. We find out the turtle is 41 years old, almost three feet long, and has returned to nest after five years. "Why doesn't the light bother her?" one person whispers to the ranger measuring the turtle, which seems indifferent to our presence. The ranger says the turtle can see and hear us, but is ultimately driven by survival instinct. And hormones. Her turtle brain is flooded with oxytocin, and she's experiencing a wave of calm and safety, allowing her to nest peacefully. Like countless others, she has spent years at feeding and breeding grounds before her journey to Mon Repos, where she hatched as a baby. Apparently, it's in their DNA to remember their birthplace as a safe place to nest and use the Earth's magnetic field to find their way back. Hatchlings head for the water. At this point, the adults in the group have joined the children in dropping their jaws. "Woah," I unintentionally quote Crush, the loggerhead turtle from Finding Nemo . I walk away from the experience with more appreciation for this female sea turtle, whose shell had a chunk missing from it and who had beaten the odds just for a chance to contribute to the survival of her species. I now understand why Turtle Sands, a minute's walk from the conservation centre at Mon Repos beach, has crafted its entire holiday park to safeguard the habitat of these endangered creatures - from restricting beach access and loud noises at night to angled window shades that keep indoor lights facing away from the shore. Accommodation at Turtle Sands. But my favourite part is the park's only beach house, which I have all to myself - including a private deck with leafy views and a comfortable day bed, where I enjoy napping between activities. I'm also impressed by the kitchenette stocked with the basics and the room next to it with a laundry set-up, a rare luxury for those who pack light. The cottage's best feature, a massive, comfortable bed, is eclipsed by the oversized bathroom. Of course, I take a relaxing bubble bath and flip through a true crime novel while sipping on a cold ginger beer. I feel pampered. Before heading out the next morning, I take advantage of the Bluetooth speakers in the room to play music while I pack a bag and hype myself up for a day trip. On my way to reception, I spot caravans and trailers parked close to one of the beach paths, flanked by a row of glamping tents and spacious cabins. I chat about my turtle encounter with the park's assistant manager, Melissa Floyd, who says Turtle Sands, which NRMA reopened in September 2024 after renovations, has been around since 1974. "It's unique," she says. "It's on private land surrounded by a national park, so we're very conscious that we have a great responsibility to ensure the longevity of the species." Rows of family-friendly cabins and glamping tents at Turtle Sands (spot the kangaroo). Picture: Bageshri Savyasachi She tells me guests who aren't keen on cooking can order from food trucks coming to the park or call for a pizza cooked in the onsite wood-fired oven. Also on offer are complimentary yoga classes in the morning, around the same time other early-risers take a stroll on the beach or follow some nature trails nearby. I decide to do a tour of the entire campsite, and quickly realise how big Turtle Sands actually is, and how busy it could become. A large saltwater pool in the centre of the park seems to be very popular with families and children, whose voices you can hear before you see them. My eyes dart around as visitors come and go from the amenities block next door, which has a camp kitchen and courtyard with lawn games. I retreat from the crowds back to my room. There's nowhere more blissful than my beach house. Getting there: Turtle Sands is a 15-minute drive from Bundaberg Airport. You can take a taxi from the airport rank to the holiday park. Staying there: Options range from a studio room from $166 per night to a villa (sleeps six) or a private beach house (sleeps two) for up to about $390 per night. Explore more: The writer was a guest of Turtle Sands Words by Bageshri Savyasachi I report on crime, emergency services, police and jail matters. Email me on bageshri.s@ or send confidential tips to bageshri.s@