choose an article
|
|
To Dive For. Part 2. |
published in Sportdiving Magazine |
“If you feel like taking a stroll, check with your hotel first to find out if it is safe to do so. The best piece of advice we can give you is to trust your instincts.” This roughly translates as; “Is it safe?” “Dunno. What d’you think?!”
“We would discourage you from attempting to explore the city without knowing exactly where you are going and how you are going to get there.” This effectively translates as; “You know those four attractions on the map?” Or you could hide in your hotel room. They’re only ants. It takes the best part of an hour to get to the wreck of the MV Pacific Gas. Formerly the Nanaya Maru, a 1967 Japanese built liquid gas carrier, she was eventually condemned and donated to PNG diving pioneer Bob Halstead, who arranged for ‘The Gas’ to be scuttled as an artificial reef in 1986. Coincidentally, this was the same year that Chris de Burgh got his classic ‘Lady in Red’ to number 1 in no less than 25 countries. He must’ve worked like a Trojan. But I’m sure Chris de Burgh wouldn’t begrudge Bob Halstead the recognition and gratitude he rightly deserves for clearing the decks and sinking ‘The Gas’ in a site where tidal flow would encourage prolific marine life. The result is 65m of top quality wreck, upright on a slope, with the bow at 14m running down to the propeller at 43m, and typical visibility in the region of 20 - 25m, which is what I’m enjoying today. The best bits are the bridge and the stern, so I fin there first when I come off the line at the bow, over the void previously filled by the gas containers.
The doors and windows of the bridge at 25m have been removed, so the interior can be enjoyed with care, as can the crew quarters and engine room below. Behind the bridge stands a beautifully decorated funnel, and it’s well worth hanging off the back of the ship to admire the stern. You’ll find a range of great features, including ladders, hatches, winches, bollards, and railings, all beautifully presented with hard and soft coral. Jacks, snappers and sweetlips cruise the wreck, and ghost pipe fish and leafy scorpion fish have been found at the bow. All this in blue water between 24C and 29C.
There’s a bowl of noodles for the surface interval as we chug over to Susie’s Bommie. This is the premier fish dive of Bootless Bay, with a coral sea mount rising up from a sandy bottom at 30m, to about 10m shy of the surface. There’s a channel between this pinnacle and the wall behind it, and today there’s plenty of current, so there’s a superhighway of fish life racing up and down. The site is renowned as a hiding place for pygmy seahorse, and Rhinopias, the amazing weedy scorpion fish. I don’t see either because I’m knackered after finning head down like a bastard into the current for twenty five minutes. Sod that for a game of soldiers. We get back to the dive shop mid afternoon, and I hang around lapping up the rarified atmosphere at Airways, with gift shop, Italian deli, and panoramic view over the airport runway. Before you know it it’s time to cadge a lift back to Ela Beach Lodge, now known as ‘Dave’s’.
|
Originally from Cornwall, Dave is happy to see the back of England, his ex-wife, and the cold weather. He runs a tight ship in his Hawaiian shirt, shouting at his staff, who he swears are thieving from him. To this end the phone in reception is locked, so no one can phone out, including the guests. We share a beer and a fag on the porch as darkness falls. There’s a couple of guards with keen dogs on duty round the clock in the compound, the steel door to the building is always locked behind you, and the doors of the rooms are braced with 3mm steel plates on both sides, with an aggressive lock that would give the police some lip. Dave tells me he sleeps with a 9mm under his pillow. (I’ll have a bash at the accent. Think ‘agitated yokel’.) “We ‘ad one of ‘em in ‘ere - but ‘ee scarpered before the boys could catch ‘im - left a pipe gun behind - ‘ome made! Oi’d ‘ave shot ‘im if oi’d ‘ad the chance!” Dave is obviously gutted he didn’t have the chance, but his attitude is spot on for Moresby. I’m just here to ‘survive’ for a couple of days out of curiosity and so I can say I’ve done it. I suspect Dave’s here for good, what with his local girl and kid. I wonder if I should ask Dave if he has a spare gun I can borrow to put under my pillow, but then I remember the TV in my room doesn’t work, so I can use it as a last bargaining chip with any burglar, or as a ‘Grosse Point Blank’ weapon of last resort. The complimentary condoms are a nice touch, but they don’t carry a kite mark and are probably as thin as the sheets, walls and floors, and I only mention this because my bed is vibrating due to the love action of my transient neighbours. The newly signwritten sandwich board out front that advertises the ‘Day Rooms’ is pulling the punters in, but it’s then reduced to matchwood under the wheels of a reversing truck. Dave abandons any pretence of anger management. His management style is pretty much ‘Mr. Angry’ anyhow, although it’s fair to say I’ve warmed to him. Joking aside, Ela Beach Lodge does the job. The room is clean, secure and affordable, (just ask the ants), and they’ll even cook you breakfast and bring it up on a tray, just like mum. Outside the compound there’s either the public beach across the road, or the central business district, aptly called ‘Town’, just ten minutes walk up a steep hill, where there’s a view of the container ships, a character playing the bagpipes, and somewhere with air conditioned broadband internet access. After dark the only place to go is a couple of hundred yards to the ‘Beachside Brasserie’ at the Ela Beach Hotel. Racks of lamb, fish and the usual pizza-burger-fries guff, a bar with expats, wannabe local girlfriends, and a big telly. How you get there is up to you. I walked, wearing my Hawaiian shirt, pretending I was Dave. The Pai II, a former prawn trawler, was also scuttled, thanks again to Bob Halstead. It’s upright, 27m long and rests with the keel on the My last dive in Moresby is a plane, the Boston Havoc A20, a WWII twin engine attack bomber discovered by Dik Knight, stuck on a fringing reef south of Loloata Island. Maximum depth is only 18m, and although the aircraft is intact and in good nick after ditching, (the nose cone is broken off and lies behind the tail), the typical visibility is only about 12m. The lack of current on this dive means that the wreck has very little growth on it, and the water is generally filthy. One for WWII enthusiasts, plane anoraks, or the desperately curious.
Moresby’s never going to get many visiting divers from the UK. There are too many other drawcard dives around PNG for the handful of divers that make it this far, and that is a great pity, because the capital has something to offer above and below the waterline. If nothing else I’ll take the kudos for having toughed it out, although I’m not sure if I earned it for venturing outside my room, or given it was Ela Beach Lodge, staying inside it.
More info:
|
But the best bit is on the page dedicated to ‘Safety & Security’. (I think we all realise the game is well and truly up when there’s a page in a city guide dedicated to ‘Safety & Security’.)
sand at 30m. There’s plenty to see with a wheelhouse packed with copper sweepers and vibrant coral growth everywhere, especially the mast. The wreck has been visited by mantas, hammerheads and whale sharks, but, as always when I dive, not today. Although not as impressive as ‘The Gas’, it has the same ingredients, and is a superb wreck. 