Kuta Beach Turtle Release: A Heartwarming Escape from Bali’s Most Overrun Shore

A tiny sea turtle takes a quick break on his jurney to the sea

If you’ve read many of my posts—especially the ones about Bali—you probably know that crowded beaches are not my thing. And Kuta Beach, in southern Bali, is the epitome of a crowded beach.

Imagine a place where the sand is packed shoulder-to-shoulder with sunburned tourists, the ocean carries more plastic than fish, and the soundtrack to your afternoon is a never-ending chorus of touts trying to sell you sunglasses, sarongs, and deeply questionable tattoos. Add in thumping club music from beachfront bars, motorbikes snarling their way through back alleys, and the distinct feeling that you’re far more likely to meet someone from Melbourne than from anywhere in Indonesia—and that’s Kuta.

To be fair, some travelers love it. There’s cheap accommodation, late-night bars, and a beach that—at least in theory—is pretty. But for those of us who prefer our beaches quiet, our food local, and our experiences less like an episode of a reality show called “Bogan Island,” Kuta can be a bit of a struggle.

That said, Kuta is near the airport. So whether we liked it or not, we found ourselves here a few times—on arrival, on departure, after our flights to and from Labuan Bajo, and again when we picked up our daughter who joined us for the last part of our trip. Which meant we needed something good to do in the Kuta area.

And—maybe surprisingly—we found something. Something genuinely lovely. Something that involves tiny flippers and a slow scramble toward the sea.

A tiny turtle getting hit by a wave for the very first time

The Plight of Sea Turtles in Bali

Sea turtles have been nesting on the beaches of Bali for centuries—long before beach bars and motorbikes and Instagram influencers in their pretty orange outfits. But today, those nesting grounds are under siege.

The wife, daughter 3, and I in front of a bin of baby turtles at the Bali Sea Turtle Society HQ

Several species of sea turtles come to Bali’s shores to lay their eggs, including the green turtle, hawksbill, olive ridley, and occasionally even loggerheads and leatherbacks. Kuta Beach, despite its chaos, is one of the key nesting sites. That’s right—these ancient mariners, who cross entire oceans and navigate by Earth’s magnetic field, still somehow choose to lay their eggs on what is now one of Bali’s most touristed, chaotic stretches of coastline.

And therein lies the problem.

Turtles that crawl ashore in Kuta must do so under the blinding glare of hotel floodlights, dodging sun loungers, plastic waste, and legions of oblivious tourists. If they manage to nest, their eggs face a gauntlet of threats: foot traffic, curious children digging in the sand, trash, stray dogs, and the occasional unethical vendor selling the eggs for consumption (yes, that’s still a thing). Even hatchlings that make it to the surface face disorientation due to artificial lights, sending them away from the ocean and into the streets.

Globally, sea turtle populations are under pressure from habitat loss, ocean plastic, fishing bycatch, and climate change. Bali is no exception. The island’s rapid development, booming tourism industry, and inconsistent waste management systems have created a harsh world for these gentle, long-lived reptiles.

That’s what makes local conservation efforts all the more urgent—and all the more meaningful. Because on a beach as overrun as Kuta, the very act of carving out a safe space for sea turtles becomes a small miracle.

Enter the Bali Sea Turtle Society: the Kuta Beach Turtle Release

Amid the neon of beachfront bars and the eternal thrum of motorbikes, there’s a humble shack, punctuated by a huge turtle sculpture, near the sand with a mission far more noble than hawking coconuts or surf lessons. It belongs to the Bali Sea Turtle Society (BSTS), a small but mighty group of conservationists doing the quiet, unglamorous work of saving sea turtles—one hatchling at a time. Or maybe 50 at a time.

BSTS has been operating since 2011, founded by passionate locals and international volunteers determined to protect Bali’s nesting sea turtle population. Their headquarters near Kuta Beach isn’t flashy (well . . . except for the huge turtle). But step up, and you’ll find a sandpit housed in a simple, plywood shack. And inside the shack? Hundreds of buried eggs—with labels for the species and date written on little signs, stuck in the sand. These eggs have all been rescued from the perils of Kuta’s chaotic coastline—and given a second chance at life.

The hatchery at the BSTS HQ. The signs denote the species, dat, and clutch size of the eggs transplanted

They’ve built a whole network of local informants: beach vendors, hotel staff, early-morning joggers. These unsung heroes contact BSTS the moment a turtle comes ashore to lay eggs. The team rushes to the spot, retrieves the eggs with care, and reburies them safely in their hatchery, protecting them from the countless threats that come with urban beachfront nesting.

And then—once hatching season hits (typically April through October)—the magic happens.

On release days, a crowd begins to gather outside the headquarters. Check BSTS’s Facebook page to confirm if a release is scheduled—they’ll usually post a time the day before. Releases happen in the afternoon, but you’ll want to get there early. We generally turned up an hour early (we did three releases) and we never had trouble.

A ticket for a turtle

You line up and receive a small ticket—your passport to one of the most wholesome experiences in Bali. Then you wait. Grab a drink, chat with fellow travelers, try not to explode with anticipation. When the time comes, the line forms again. One by one, people exchange their tickets for a small plastic container holding the cutest creature known to humankind: a squirmy, wide-eyed baby sea turtle, barely the size of your palm but with more energy than you can summon on your best days.

Hold the container straight, and your turtle lunges forward, always in the direction of the water. Turn it a bit, and the little guy recalibrates instantly, determined as ever to follow its ancient programming toward the sea.

Me and my turtle. I named him Malvolio

All the participants are given strict instructions not to touch the turtles—just observe, hold the container carefully, and let the moment unfold. From what we saw, everyone complied. Because who in their right mind would break the sacred code of baby turtles? The rest of the crowd would likely turn on them and serve up a little street justice.

Then comes the release.

Participants form a long line about 10 meters back from the surf. At the signal, everyone places their containers down, tips it up, and watches as a hundred tiny flippers scurry across the sand, some with laser focus, others veering off like toddlers on espresso. You cheer. You point. You panic a little when yours makes a U-turn. And you absolutely do not move your feet. The beach becomes a sacred runway for these miniature miracles.

And as you stand there, cheering your tiny companion toward the unknown vastness of the Indian Ocean, your heart does something weird. You know that the odds are against them. That most won’t make it. But in that moment, you believe. You hope. Yours is going survive! And so you cheer all the louder.

The line of turtle-releasers cheering their little ones on

The Kuta Beach turtle release is a truly beautiful moment that occurs in a most unexpected place. And it is more than enough reason to spend a little time in Kuta.

Because travel’s whole point is to not just see the beautiful, but to stand in solidarity with it.