The best Bali waterfalls for nature lovers

Chasing Bali’s best waterfalls is a heady mix of jungle treks, temple-framed cascades and misty cliffside plunges. 

From a thunderous roar to a hidden, serene shower, Bali waterfalls are making a splash. They tumble through dense jungle, carve scars into volcanic rock and pool in cool, swimmable basins.

Some are effortless to reach; others demand steep descents, river crossings and a sense of adventure. Many are woven into local spiritual life, used for purification rituals and temple ceremonies, adding a quiet reverence to the experience.

Bali waterfalls offer a deeper lens on the island’s raw beauty.  This is our comprehensive guide to the best waterfalls in Bali for nature lovers and adventure seekers alike.

Tegenungun Waterfall

Tegenungan Waterfall in Ubud, Bali — Tegenungan Waterfall drops 15 metres into the pool below. (Credit: Getty/Leamus)

Set in lush jungle just 30 minutes’ drive from Ubud, Tegenungun Waterfall – known locally as Blangsinga – is one of Bali’s most accessible cascades. Use either name and drivers will know where to go.

The roughly 15-metre drop, fed by the Petanu River, pours out over a jagged rock outcrop to plunge powerfully into the shallow, churning pool below.

There are two vantage points: take in the view from above or descend the hundred-odd steps, via a structured staircase with rails, to the base to swim. Be aware the falls can cause strong currents. Standing directly beneath them is more likely to elicit giggles and gasps than a serene shower.

Ideal for first timers, the site is well set up with cafes, changerooms and toilets. It’s popular, so arrive early to beat the crowds, or pair it with nearby sights like the Tegallalang Rice Terraces to make a day of it.

Tibumana Waterfall

A wide silken ribbon of water pours over the cliff, its alabaster glow is striking against the lush, green rock walls. One of Bali’s most iconic falls, Tibumana drops a vertiginous 20 metres into a calm, swimmable pool.

A manicured path winds through dense vegetation to the base. Coconut palms fan towards dappled light and charming bridges decorate the trail. It’s like tiptoeing through a tropical fairytale.

Amenities include changerooms and lockers, and while the pool is inviting, its clarity shifts with recent rain.

From Ubud, it’s a 40-minute drive; from Seminyak or Canggu, allow 1.5–2 hours. Hire a private driver or use Grab or Gojek from Ubud – but ask them to wait, as pickups can be restricted.

Gitgit Waterfall

The sound reaches you first – a distant rush that builds to a steady thunder as you move deeper into the jungle. One of Bali’s most accessible falls, Gitgit drops around 35 metres in a powerful white veil, framed by dense, dripping greenery.

A well-trodden path leads you past spice stalls, tangled vines and the occasional flash of bright tropical blooms. The air turns cooler as you descend, heavy with mist and the scent of wet earth.

At the base, the pool shifts and swirls; swimming is possible in calmer pockets, though currents can be strong after rain. Come early to catch it in relative quiet before the crowds filter in.

Banyumala Twin Waterfall

A pair of 30 metre high waterfalls race down the cliff face like jubilant lovers. Flanked by smaller cascades, it creates a veil of water. It’s wildly scenic and delivers a glimpse of Bali’s untamed heart.

The falls are a two-hour drive north of Ubud and best taken with a private driver. The final turn off is rough and slow-going. The bonus? You might have it to yourself.

From the ticket office it’s a steep 10-minute descent. The last stretch gets slippery. The pool is icy – a breath-stealer if the walk hasn’t already done the job.

A picture-perfect bamboo bridge spans the base. For the hero shot, stand on the small red bridge just behind it.

Aling Aling Waterfall

Forget Waterbomb Park and head to this natural playground instead. If you’re chasing an adrenaline hit – or just want to watch one –  this is where you’ll find it.

The trail winds through the Secret Garden of Sambangan, a cluster of four cascades set deep in the jungle. Thrill-seekers come to jump, flip and slide into the cool pools below. Guides are mandatory – and sensible – if you want to take part.

If you’re just here to hike and take it all in, you can easily explore on your own. Avoid the hagglers at the entry suggesting you need a guide for this.

Kroya Waterfall has a 12 metre smooth stone waterslide that shoots you into the pool below. Kembar, a twin fall, ups the ante with an eyewatering 10 metre jump, while Pucuk is a “woot-woot" drop of around 15 metres, reached via a knee-deep wade across a slippery river bed.

The waterfalls are only a few minutes’ walk apart and you’ll need a moderate level of fitness. The puffiest part is the total of 400 paved steps down (and back up). Aling-Aling itself is considered sacred, so swimming there isn’t permitted. The entry fee covers all four waterfalls.

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Nungnung Waterfall

Fire up your calf muscles. Around 500 steep steps lead to the base – and back up again. Set in Bali’s highlands, just over an hour from Ubud, this powerful force of nature barrels into the pool below with an epic roar.

At the base, massive rocks gleam slick with spray, as though a jungle giant has hurled them from the cliffs above. The ground is slippery underfoot, so wear shoes with grip and take your time.

The sheer force of the falls makes swimming difficult, but the mist will drench and cool you in seconds.

Temesi Waterfall

Skip the crowds at this little-known waterfall, a hidden gem just 30 minutes’ drive outside Ubud. Steeped in local culture and spirituality, the falls and surrounding pools are known by villagers as the “fairy baths."

Approaching the waterfall is like stepping into an enchanted forest. A misty spray licks your skin as jungle vines drape tendrils softly toward the earth. It’s easy to see why villagers believe five angels reside here. There’s a tangible, gentle spirituality that lingers in the air.

Temesi Waterfall only opened to visitors in 2024 and is open daily from 8.30am to 5.30pm. 

Practical Tips

Visit at the tail end of the rainy season for the most dramatic flows: water is plentiful and powerful and the jungle gleams with rain-kissed shine.

Bring swimmers, a towel or sarong and grippy shoes. Pack mosquito repellent and small Indonesian rupiah notes for entry fees, donations and simple drinks or souvenirs.

The entry fee for most Bali waterfalls costs between A$2-A$3 per adult.

Most Bali waterfalls aren’t wheelchair accessible, though some have flat viewing points.

After youth-led protests in 2025, this year Nepal elected a 35-year-old former rapper as Prime Minister. In a country where tourism is its biggest industry, what’s next for travellers?

In 1986, Nepal changed its clock. It had used India Standard Time since 1920 so, to differentiate, it wound its clock 15 minutes ahead of, not behind, its big-brother neighbour. Boss move. “Nepal is strongly opposed to the idea that our identity is connected to India,” says Community Homestay Network (CHN) guide Bikal Khanal.

Tharu dance is traditionally set to hand drums. (Credit: Kate Lewis)

Today, Nepal is the only independent country with a 45-minute deviation to universal time; an oddity that’s become a symbol of national pride. The quirk is nearly as endearing as Kathmandu’s Tribhuvan airport where carved varnished wood and shiny red bricks rule. One sign points to a ‘Travelator’ and another to a ‘Grievance Handling Desk’ while visas are noisily stamped at customs for US dollars, cash only. When am I?

Spot the endemic Nepal gray langur. (Credit: Simon Urwin)

The 15 or 45 minute anomaly sees me tap out completely on timezone calculations. Why bend my brain calculating if it’s quarter to or quarter past elsewhere when I’m in the honking here and now of Kathmandu where the air is high-altitude crisp, the prayer flags flutter and the street dogs howl?

How tourism is changing in Nepal

Bardiya National Park is rich with wildlife. (Credit: Simon Urwin)

India is not the only association many Nepalis would like to shake. With eight of the world’s 10 tallest mountains, including Mount Everest and Annapurna, Nepal has long attracted mountaineers and trekkers, and expedition numbers are continuing to rise.

Tourism is one of the country’s biggest sources of foreign currency, so this growth is not negative, per se. But according to Ang Tshering Lama, who co-founded Phaplu Mountain Bike Club, being reduced to a mere trekking destination is limiting.

“Trekking is just one layer of our identity,” says Ang. “When it becomes the dominant narrative, it limits how we’re seen and how we see ourselves.” Nepal’s recent success, however, in diverting trekkers to less-trafficked areas such as Manaslu mofuntain, where visitor numbers rose by 117 per cent last year, offers hope that tourism can diversify even more radically.

Local men in Bhada village. (Credit: Simon Urwin)

The founder of CHN, Shiva Dhakal, wants that change. “The whole idea of the Community Homestay Network is to promote experiences outside of trekking,” he says. “Community tourism changes lives and helps kids stay home instead of coming to the city or migrating to the Middle East.”

Ang grew up seeing people leave, “not because they wanted to but because there weren’t enough opportunities to stay”, he states. Yet from remote villages to living traditions; food, art, music and emerging subcultures, “there’s so much that’s not being seen.”

CHN is opening some of those doors. It doesn’t own, or fund, any homes. Rather, it promotes homestays to travellers on a single, slick platform, while fostering entrepreneurship in places where women, marginalised castes, Indigenous people and the youth stand to benefit the most.

A new generation demanding more

Dalla Town Hall, where volunteers discuss anti-poaching tactics. (Credit: Bheem Thapa)

The future prospects of next-gen Nepalis can no longer be ignored. On a Kathmandu tour with 33-year-old guide Monica K.C, we pass buildings torched in the September 2025 ‘Gen Z protests’, including the Supreme Court and Parliament House. Seventy-two people died. “They were anti-corruption protests,” says Monica. “Politicians’ children are living a lavish life but the airports are crowded with youngsters leaving to find work.”

We stop in ‘little Tibet’ at the wondrous sixth-century Boudha Stupa. “The wheel of life is Buddhism in a nutshell,” says Monica. “Things such as hate, ignorance and anger keep you rotating around the wheel, so you must follow the principles of Buddhism to detach. If you can’t, there’s no nirvana for you.”

Boudha Stupa's prayer wheels — Boudha Stupa’s prayer wheels are used to recite Buddhist prayers. (Credit: Kate Lewis)

In a sun-drenched twist to the usual temple visit, we ascend the stupa’s sloping plinth and roam its whitewashed dome. Tendrils of diaphanous prayer flags stream from a steeple-like structure where the Buddha’s unblinking eyes stare out. No nirvana for you…

bouda stupa prayer flags — Tibetan-style prayer flags embellish the whitewashed dome of Bouda Stupa, a Buddhist temple. (Credit: Kate Hennessy)

The dome is delightfully free of guard rails or chiding from security. There is, however, a stern ‘No TikTok’ sign, perhaps in response to the youth’s newly flexed power. The booted-out Prime Minister, K.P. Sharma Oli, was replaced in a resounding election victory in March by 35-year-old Balendra Shah of the Rastriya Swatantra Party (RSP) – a former rapper and mayor of Kathmandu. The RSP’s manifesto indicates tourism is a priority, and that Nepal’s cultural identity in areas such as gastronomy will be strengthened.

Boudha Stupa vendors — Vibrant souvenir shops and cafes around Boudha Stupa. (Credit: Kate Hennessy)

A more confronting stop awaits at Pashupatinath Temple. Today is Bala Chaturdashi, a Hindu festival where thousands of devotees gather to honour their dead ancestors. Vendors hauling foam mattresses do a lucrative trade as people set up for a night of vigil. This includes burning the bodies of recently deceased relatives on bamboo pyres in the Bagmati River, which flows into the sacred Ganges.

A woman at annual Hindu festival Bala Chaturdashi, in Kathmandu. (Credit: Kate Hennessy)

Wrapped in a shroud, the bodies are positioned with their heads facing north to the Himalayas where Lord Shiva resides. They’re covered with flowers and straw and set alight by male family members.

Hours later, the ashes are swept into the river where devotees will take a holy dip the next day. As much as Monica assures us it’s not voyeuristic to watch, I struggle to do so. “Here you see the reality of life because everyone ends up there,” she says, gesturing to the river.

Life unfiltered in the Terai region

tharu woman — Tharu woman and master weaver Parbati Chaudhary in Bhada Village. (Credit: Bheem Thapa)

The reality of life needs processing time, which the western Terai region delivers in spades. The Terai is largely separated from India by the Karnali River and Bardiya National Park, where elephants, rhinos and the elusive Bengal tiger roam.

Once a nomadic tribe, the Indigenous Tharu people are now the largest ethnic group here. “They didn’t know their daily life was interesting for international travellers but they’re starting to understand now,” says CHN founder Shiva.

Take a Jeep safari through Bardiya National Park. (Credit: Bheem Thapa)

We fly Buddha Air to Dhangadhi airport and drive five hours to stay in Tharu homes. The journey to Bhada village is a blur of roadside fruit stalls, traffic-stopping sacred cows and fields sown with wheat, rice, mustard, spinach, cauliflower and potatoes. Nepal’s agriculture feeds only Nepal.

Marigolds are an important part of Hindu rituals. (Credit: Simon Urwin)

“The only thing we export is young people,” says our guide Bikal. As the light dims and we plunge evermore rural, mysterious mounds of compacted hay – some house-sized – loom like the creatures from Where The Wild Things Are. Even our trusty driver gets flummoxed by a dirt road that abruptly ends and we find ourselves hurtling across a paddock.

On arrival, some are ferried to mud-walled cottages greened by gourd creepers, with thatched roofs and rustic-chic mosquito nets. Myself and two others are ushered to the home of corner store owner, mechanic and mushroom farmer Man Kumar Chilaruwa and his wife Rajkumari.

community homestay entrance — A warm welcome at a community homestay. (Credit: Simon Urwin)

They escort us to a bunker-esque back building with steel doors and a folding security gate, behind which is gleaming linoleum, dolphin-printed tiles and a shower cavity that must be gingerly stepped through to reach the toilet.

The ceiling lights emit a rainbow of colours (the bathroom light gets stuck in, frankly, a quite frightening red). We’re nevertheless touched that our hosts invested in all this bling when the average salary is around $275 a month.

In the coming days, we participate in Tharu traditions such as making moonshine, dancing, weaving straw handicrafts and gold-panning. We’re fed well with staples of rice, mustard greens, lentil pancakes, daal, curried chicken and tomato chutney served on antibacterial saal leaves.

food at community homestay — Dig in. (Credit: Kate Hennessy)

Sonara community homestay president Indradevi Tharu tells us river snails are often served, and the boiled and pickled flesh of rats hunted in the rice fields. “Perhaps next time?” we say and all have a laugh.

The power of community homestays

community homestay owners in Nepal — Barda community homestay owners Parbati Chaudhary and Ram Krishni Devi Chaudhary. (Credit: Simon Urwin)

Immersing Western visitors in foreign cultural practices is not new. But with the Tharu, I never get that uneasy sensation that I’m being performed for. Despite being the only tourists, there’s no ‘othering’; just warm, composed and ultra-dignified welcomes. Like we’ve always been here.

“I love to have travellers in my village so I can see the world,” says local woman Parbati Chaudhary. “Why would I travel the world when the world comes to me?”

The graceful acceptance the Tharu offer, as well as the slow pace, works miracles on my frazzled nervous system. One day I even take a nap on a vacant homestay bed.

Sonara community room — An authentic stay in the Sonara community. (Credit: Kate Hennessy)

Roosters strut and goats bray as we sit on the ground in al fresco kitchens, rolling rice flour into cylinders steamed to make dhikri (dumplings). When water is needed, we fetch it using a hand-operated pump as a family of ducks strolls by, side-eying us like curious neighbours.

Animal lovers will delight in Tharu villages. Kind and resourceful inventions are everywhere, such as snacking stations where two posts lean together, with leafy boughs dangling on rope for baby goats to forage from.

CHN’s CEO, Aayusha Prasain, nods knowingly when one in our group says she cried when she left her host, Shayam Chaudhary, in Bhada. Shayam’s 17-year-old son, Prashant, had translated, which deepened the connection.

“Community tourism turns travel into a relationship, not a transaction,” says Aayusha. “It places decision-making power in the hands of local communities, especially women and youth.” Since 2018, CHN has hosted more than 4000 travellers from 52 countries in 408 households, and estimates women’s participation has increased by 381 per cent.

In the Bardiya community, where vexing human-animal conflict has been a balancing act for decades due to elephants raiding crops, long-time homestay operator Salik Ram Chaudhary says young people keep the older ones on their toes.

“We can’t keep homestays stagnant,” he says. “We have to upgrade our service and redefine our product or young people won’t see it as an attractive business. If we can keep evolving with this travelling trend we’re confident the youths will stay and continue it.”

Back in Kathmandu, Monica explains that after the deaths of young protestors in September, a determination had spread to not let their sacrifice be in vain. “We want to keep holding the government accountable,” she says. “We don’t know what situation we’re facing, but we’re ready to face it.”

Interested in Nepal but prefer to experience it in total comfort? Read our guide to luxury travel in Nepal.