Enter The Darkness

The surface of Coron Bay lay ahead of us, pond-flat, a merciless mid-morning Philippine sun forcing me to squint as I scanned the horizon beyond our bangka. Surrounded on all sides by uninhabited limestone islands, the Imperial Japanese Navy had considered this idyllic, sheltered spot a perfect location to hide its merchant fleet recently escaped the bombardment of Manila harbour, a day’s sail away. Four ships hid in this bay: Irako, Morazan, Olympia and the Kogyo. Twenty minutes away lay the Okikawa, an oil tanker, and the sole warship Akitsushima. They believed the Americans would never find them in such a remote spot: they were wrong.

On the morning on September 24th 1944, the azure sky blackened with 118 US Navy Hellcat and Helldiver fighter bombers, launched from the USS Lexington some 340 miles away. At this range, the attack had to be swift to conserve sufficient fuel for the pilots to return home safely. Akitsushima, being most heavily armed, was quickly annihilated; a massive explosion amidships quickly sent her to the bottom. Left unprotected, the rest of the fleet quickly followed suit despite putting up a ferocious fight. Many sailors and airmen found the bay their final resting place that morning.

Coron Town is a dusty backwater in the Camianes archipelago at the tip of Palawan island. Lacking the charm of El Nido in the latter, few travellers continue to Coron on the filthy overnight cargo boats or risk life and limb in a bangka pumpboat. Anyone who does is here for the wrecks alone. And besides, this is the real Philippines, rather than the white sands and cocktail bars of Boracay.

Dumping my kit at a local hotel, I’d set out to enquire about the diving. Being midday, at most shops the people I needed to speak to were on the wrecks already. At the edge of town I wandered into Rocksteady Dive Center and met the man who would become my mentor over the next seven weeks, Gerd Schulte. Relieved to be out of the baking sun, I cast my eyes over the relics and artifacts in the shop as the proprietor wandered out from behind the counter and introduced himself. Middle-aged, sun-wizened and with twinkling blue eyes beneath close-cropped hair, this Bavarian wouldn’t have looked out of place atop the conning tower of a U-Boat. I liked him immediately. Gerd gave me a brief history of the wrecks, recommended an order of dives, and took me through the tours using hand-drawn maps. Coron being unusually quiet, he informed me that it would be just the two of us diving the next day.

First Wreck: Kogyo Maru

The boat slowed, the boatman hooking the marker buoy. I geared up quickly, Gerd casting over the odd glance as I did so, silently assessing. Ready? I certainly was. No other boats in sight; a perfect day of diving beckoned. Submerged, we gently dropped to the bottom. I caught my breath as the mass of the Kogyo appeared below me. Gerd had warned me that a first wreck dive can be nerve-wracking, that I could get through my air quite quickly, and to remain relaxed to avoid this.

Kogyo was a supply ship filled with materials for airstrip construction, and lies on her starboard side in 34m of water. She is 129m long, with a beam of 18m. We entered the second cargo hold, passing over bags of cement and a tractor on its nose, the encrusted wheels and engine clearly visible. Finning into the gloom of the hold, we headed for a square of blue light above left and crossed into another hold, hundreds of rolls of barbed wire below us forming an unusual texture. At the back of this hold was an open entry to her engine room, and we descended from the port side into blackness and a tight but short moment between the huge square boilers. A salvage hole in the port side illuminated these furnaces, the engine room now sadly a huge empty space. The bridge area is open, and the funnel collapsed, providing plenty of exits. Our exit was via the prop shaft, through the rear holds. Good buoyancy is a must here, and careful movements increase the chances of seeing the large and rather inquisitive puffer fish resident in these holds.

Coron Bay's wrecks are covered in hard corals

At the rear of the bridge, we had enough time to take a look in the kitchen; entry is through a door on the starboard side. A long row of ovens are still open, and you can imagine the chefs being caught by surprise as they prepared lunch. Personally, I’d have grabbed a quick sandwich and swum for the shore when the first bombs started whistling down.

Time not being on our side, as ever, we ascended to the hull and a fantastic hard coral garden. Teeming with life, lion fish and scorpion fish abound here. At the right time of year a school of barracuda can regularly be seen. On surfacing, my nostrils were teased with the smells of frying fish and aromatic pumpkin curry. “Good dive?” asked Gerd rhetorically. I didn’t need to answer: my huge grin said it all. One down, five to go.

Two for starters: Olympia and Morazan

Being shallower, the initial wrecks for new divers are usually the Olympia, followed by the Morazan. Sitting upright in 29m of water, the Olympia is an easy dive to begin your week, sometimes even viewable from the surface as you descend. The holds of this 122m ship are huge and open, providing easy penetration for less experienced divers. Having suffered a direct hit, the bridge is completely destroyed. The main area of interest is the bow, with its circular gun mount now a coral garden home to a wide variety of fish, large and small. A family of curious batfish frequent this hulk of metal, and usually take it upon themselves to escort you back as far as the Safety Stop, circling all the while. The forward locker room inside the bow is interesting, beams of light cutting through the darkness from holes in the deck; its interior a haven for tiny glass fish among the coils of wire and barrels.

The Morazan was originally a British ship, the bathroom tiles in Gerd’s shop bearing the legend “Made in Stoke-on-Trent” testament to this. Used as a banana boat on the Mississippi pre-war, she was captured when Singapore fell to the Japanese. 137m long, this freighter lies on her starboard side 25m below the surface. The boilers are impressive, but this ship is largely empty and interesting more for the life aboard her. The tiny bathroom at the rear of the bridge is about as challenging as the penetration gets; the corridor on the starboard side of the vessel is part-buried in sand, and therefore very shallow in height and downright dangerous without the proper training. Entry is via the engine room, and not for the faint-hearted; I’ve never been tempted to try it, personally.

Divers can enjoy open areas of the wrecks

Visibility is never brilliant in Coron, due to a combination of wind, run-off from the neighbouring islands and the proximity of oyster farms in the bay. On a good day it can be 20m+, on a bad day less than 10m: like British wreck-diving, but in warmer water. I’ve seen the Morazan on an exceptional day though, sunlight bouncing off the sand in clear water, half the ship visible from either end; the coral garden on her hull viewable from the surface. An incredible amount of life is present here, including turtles and beautiful silver and black banded sea snakes. On this occasion it was enough to just circle the ship, taking her in fully … a truly beautiful sight.

by Warren Crawford

Read part two of Enter the Darkness