Photo of the Week (09/05/2012): At night they feed

At night the Cargo wreck glows. What looks like slightly boring, if colourful, stubs of coral during the daytime come alive at night. Known as Tubastrea coral, these are non-reef building coral which do not host photosynthetic algae within them like the coral we are most familiar with.



These are usually found in deeper waters and in areas where they are exposed to currents. The polyps extend tentacles into the water during the night and feed. The effect is quite startling with entire sections of the wreck appearing to wave to and fro, shimmering in the torchlight as the corals feed. It is an unforgettable experience night diving with these corals.

Top 10 Memorable Ocean Experiences of 2011: No. 10 – The British Sergeant Aftermath

It had been a great trip so far. Admittedly the 3am drive down left a bit to be desired but the two dives on the mystery wreck were mind blowing. An eagle ray soared past us as we hovered over the wreck and huge trevalley moved in the shadows as we swam into the ghostly ship lying scatted on the bottom and hordes of snappers swirled above us, a solid mass of fish. I’m still not sure how this was but the air from our tanks tasted of strawberries and the dives were simply world class.


As the sun set on the beach at Kayankerni we exultantly discussed our evidence on what the ship could be, the length indicated a World War II wreck but there was still much to be done the next day to further uncover the mystery. It was then that we made our fatal mistake. We decided that nothing would cap the day better than a couple of beers. Thus fortified with this foolish idea we proceeded to Oddamaivadi to get some beer. Over the Kayankerni bridge as we rattled along the road that was under construction we heard a thud. Shortly followed by a warning light on dashboard and the death rattle of the engine seizing up.

The deadly section of the diversion road

Rather befuddled we sat in the car for a few minutes before deciding to move it to the side of the road in case a passing combine harvester gave us a gentle tap on the back in the approaching gloom. It was then that we started to meet the inhabitants. As I pushed the Swift to the side of the road (it’s a surprisingly light car) a motorcycle spluttered to a stop and our Guardian Angel turned up to assist, heavily disguised of course as a mustachioed and saronged old man, GB Kahn. While DJ and I stood bewildered he in quick succession organized a truck to tow us to the nearest garage.


The garage, actually a large field with a shack, turned out to be the haunt of Sudu Malli, the black as night mechanic who soulfully advised us to get a new filter and he would try his best the next day. As we had reached the limit of what we could do for the night we arranged a tuk to get back to base and a jovial character by the name of Ali picked us up.


As we proceeded to buy a couple of beer bottles (to console ourselves) Ali with great gusto started talking. And he didn’t stop. His stories were various and colourful. He started off with tales of how he used to run goods for the LTTE and the army, until both were pissed off with him and he had to move to Colombo. There it turned out he was arrested for dealing marijuana and he regaled us with how he used to escape rape on a daily basis, including unwanted specifications of how the victims were chosen as they used rudimentary toilets.


Ali continued to talk and swig beer from a can while we drove on. He took a short but terrifying detour to show us a field where he as involved in a land dispute. For a second we thought we were going to be have a sticky end somewhere in a lost field. Ali continued to talk, now he was telling us about his experiences with ghosts on the road. We later learned that he loved to smoke up..which probably explains the ghosts. He also told us he transports corpses in his tuk, a sort of open air hearse. We were reassured to hear however that he washes his tuk regularly in the lagoon.


Ali was even full of political soundbites, a particularly witty statement was, mamma Thambi, appi nari, ogollong Sinhala, sinhayao…koti thang malla. Which for political correctness left a bit to be desired.


It was with a sinking feeling that we realized Ali had no intention on leaving us when we got to the bungalow. Instead he helped himself to a bottle of beer, regaled us with a story on circumcision and proceeded to show us how his belly dances. I cannot make this shit up. Apparently it was because he was quite diligent with his yoga…yoga I say again. Then just before he left he showed us another one of his life skills, twisting his ear up and keeping it balled up. He then serenaded us with a short tune before bumpily heading off into the night leaving us speechless and not a little traumatized.


The next morning dawned bright and early. The promise of a hot day was kept as instead of diving as we had hoped, we travelled around Oddamavadai, this time with a mercifully silent trishaw driver, in search of a petrol filter. Tracking one down finally in the shop of the town’s other crazy mechanic, Meegamuwa Kolla, whom we later learned had a ‘wire in his head’ (i.e. was batshit crazy) we had Sudu Malli install this and we crossed our fingers.

Our bungalow

Three wheeler with our dive gear inside

No luck as the engine was rock solid. Which then brought us to the tricky part of how the hell we were going to get a Suzuki Swift back to Colombo.


Luckily there turned out there was a truck, Anoja was her name that needed to get to Colombo and had space in her innards for the Swift. Of course this being Sri Lanka nothing was quite that simple. The truck needed repairs to its clutch. And the driver had to come from Batticaloa with the parts. Thus we sat in the smallest patch of shade in all of Batticaloa while we waited for Saadi the driver and his unnamed squint eyed assistant to turn up. Once they turned up they and Sudu Malli dug around in the bowels of the truck until finally it seemed it was all fixed.

Transport negotiations

The next step was to find rope and we were told there was a rope shop close to the garage. We proceeded out of Sudu Mallis and turned left and walked 500 meters in the baking sun with no rope shop in sight. In response to our enquiries, we were told the shop was towards Sudu Malli’s Garage. We alked another 500 meters past the garage with the same result and the same response to our queries about the mysterious rope shop. Needless to say we were less than amused to find the shop smack dab in front of the garage, cleverly disguised as a fishing supplies shop.


Entering the shop we asked the chap behind the counter whether we could purchase some rope. He gave us a nervous glance and ran out of the shop. DJ and I looked at each perplexed, we were probably sweaty and a bit smelly but hardly that objectionable. The mystery was solved a few minutes later as the man came bag dragging a boy whose role it was to interprete, as he only spoke Tamil.


Rope procured, we were secured to Anoja’s behind and she then proceeded to take us for a slow tow to a service station so we could load the car into her innards.

Dragged through town

The rather innovative process that was explained to us on how this was to be achieved was to put the car up on a hydraulic jack, back the truck up and then push the car in. Of course the first service station refused to let us do this, so we proceeded back into town, the townspeople regarding us with interest and possibly a sense of déjà vu as we trundled past them again, this time heading to Meegamuwa Kolla's service station. Suffice to say the plan of how to get the car into the truck was not quite as easy as it sounded but much sweating and pushing and jousting, not me of course, I was too busy taking photographs, we finally got the car in.

Wrestling the car into Anoja

All that was left was the drive back to Colombo. We squeezed into the back of Anoja’s cabin where there was just enough leg space to give us hope but not enough to allow for a comfortable ride. For one brief, terrifying moment Saadi played some South Indian tunes at full blast, before catching our looks and interpreting them as meaning that we would happily kill him and his assistant and drive the damn truck back to Colombo if he continued with the music.


In blessed silence we proceeded towards Colombo, a 9 hour odyssey where I learned something interesting. Transport trucks do not have anything in terms of suspension so you could feel every single jolt from the road. Needless to say by the end of the trip I had reached a level of pain that I had not thought possible.


So there it is, strawberry flavoured air, giant trevalley, a crazy tuk driver, even crazier mechanics and a temperamental truck called Anoja. A truly once in a lifetime way to end a brief east coast season for 2011.

Top 10 Memorable Ocean Experiences of 2011: No. 09 – The Mysterious Wreck

It still seems strange but at the time I dived the huge wreck in Vakarai, it never occurred to me to question what the wreck was, what ship had gone down when to create this paradise? I guess at the time, I was still a relative neophyte, more concerned with fish and photographs. This wreck was the first that really woke my interest in wrecks as more than just fish aggregators and pretty sites.


On our return to Colombo, DJ enrolled me inadvertently in his search for the name and origin of the mysterious wreck. As we scoured lists of sunken ships and coordinates it became apparent that there were two strong candidates for the wreck, both sunk during the Japanese attack in April, 1942 which also sank the world famous Hermes.


The first candidate was one of the ships from the Hermes convoy, the merchant navy ship the British Sergeant which was an oil tanker that had put out to sea that fateful day before being sent to the bottom by the Japanese raiders. I found a rather thrilling story about one of the survivors and the valuable information in it that the ship had split in two before sinking. The ship had also been steaming towards shallower water when it had been attacked. Rather intriguingly two Japanese planes had also been shot down in the attack according to some reports.


The second candidate was a Norwegian ship, the Norviken which had been in the wrong place at the wrong time and had been badly damaged by the Japanese planes . The reports indicated that the ship had run aground near a place which indicated a relatively shallow area as the final resting place of the ship. Confusingly the Norviken had also broken in two before sinking. However the Norviken should have been in relatively shallow water while the wreck we were diving was shallowest at around 12 meters from the top so in at least 18 meters depth of water


DJ had very handily found both the wrecks on the brilliantly named site; WRECK site and this had some excellent information on sizes and weights of both ships. That coupled with some very helpful information from the British Merchant Navy Old Friends Plus forum  with photographs and tonnage, left us with a relatively simple task to narrow it down to one of the two ships. Given the fact that the British Sergeant was double the tonnage of the Norviken it was obvious that it would be bigger of the ships, in fact the width of the British Sergeant was, according to the sites, around 16.5 meters while the Norviken was at around 13.9 meters. We focused on the width more than the length because it would be an easier exercise to measure the width when 20 odd meters underwater than the length which could have been over 100m long.


We departed from Colombo with a clear aim, measure the width and do more photo documenting to try and match the ship to one of the contenders. Leaving at the ungodly hour of 3am we drove straight through to Mankerni, over the Kayankerni bridge to meet Lal, our fixer at Thennadi Bay. Straight from the car we jumped into the boat and headed out to the wreck focused on our mission.


Visibility was excellent as we started, 15-20 meters of blue as we swam along the wreck. An eagle ray flapped lazily past us, surely a good omen of an amazing two dives to come. The first dive was purely for orientation, our last couple of dives here being a few months before and dives which were rudely interrupted by the tank incident.

DJ Swims along the wreck

The first stop was an immense rip in the stern area of the ship, a daunting looking cave that took a bit of willpower to swim into. Slight beams of light glistened on the other side of the cave as we swam in and let our eyes adjust

Underwater cave

 A pair of Giant Trevalley darted into the cave and into the depths of the ship. Leaving the inside of the ship well alone (well I did at least) we swam back to the middle to greet our old friends the batfish. The effects of fishing were evident here as well as nets festooned the wreck.

Crappy photo of the GT

Net festooning the wreck

On the second dive it was down to business. Finding a suitable place to measure the wreck was difficult as with the obstructions trying to find a level place to measure was a challenge. With only one reel we couldn’t take more than one measurement so find a suitable location, I held on to one end of the line at the edge of the hull as DJ swam to the opposite side reel in hand. Visibility at the bottom left a bit to be desired so all I saw after a few minutes was the line stretching into the blue. It was a bit of a relief to see DJ come back rolling up the reel after having carefully made a knot where he had reached the other side of the hull.

Taking our measurement

DJ exploring

On the surface

Getting back to land and our bungalow we carefully laid out the reel and measured out the length of line that corresponded roughly to the width of the ship. We had taken out around 19 meters of line which though larger than the widths we had for both ships seemed to make it much more likely that we were dealing with the British Sergeant than the Norviken. Later on comparing old photographs with those of the wreck, especially around the railings at the bow, the weight of the evidence does lie upon the side of the British Sergeant. The lack of anything in the near vicinity for the ship to run aground also indicated that we had indeed identified the British Sergeant. The photos here are not the best since I was lacking a wide angle lens and to be frank wasn’t very good at this kind of thing yet but click here for DJ’s superb photographs and write up.

Railings on the ship

Elated at a superb day, as the sun set on a beautiful day on the east coast we made a fateful decision. One that would lead to an adventure of sorts that I have never experienced and hopefully never experience again and to us missing out on diving the British Sergeant for the rest of the season. We decided to celebrate by getting a couple of beers.


To be continued…

Top 10 Memorable Ocean Experiences of 2011: No. 06 – Big G in the Shadows

Big fish are rare nowadays. Even in the times of Arthur C. Clarke’s early ocean explorations, the big groupers were getting hit with unsporting (not to mention illegal) spear fishermen donning tanks and hunting these gentle giants out of existence. Every now and then I see a grouper that’s a couple of feet long and I get inordinately excited. It is sobering to think that 30-40 years ago these would not have been of much note.

For a big fish to survive now, it has to be canny and clever. It is literally survival of the fittest to ensure it doesn’t end up with a spear from the likes of Kalu Mahathaya and Ikkiya amidships. There is such a fish on a wreck in Colombo and a sighting of it is a rare treasure. I have seen him a few times, most memorably on a night dive (more to come on that later) but the majority of the handful of sightings had been from a great distance and for a fleeting moment.

The closest I got to him in 2011 was one day towards the latter of the season. It was one of my occasional dives with Colombo Divers, as PP was accompanying me and didn’t have the benefit of owning her own gear. We stuck behind the dive guide and the main group and as we rounded the stern of the ship, the guide turned back to me and excitedly gestured that she had seen something big. They peered down and then continued on as it was obvious as whatever they had seen was not there anymore. I couldn’t spot anything either in the bluish haze.

As we came up behind them I looked down and saw it. Obviously thinking that the divers had moved on, Big G stuck his head out of his hiding place and looked out. On spotting us, by this time I had PP’s hand in a firm grip and was pointing her attention downwards, the grouper immediately retreated back. Big G had apparently thought that the divers had moved on and decided to check if everything was clear providing us with a superb sighting. The one thing that stood out about this was the sense of scale. The overhang under which the grouper was hiding was one I was very familiar with so it was quite something to realize how big this fish was. One of the last giants of our waters. May Big G continue to dodge the spears and provide us with more thrilling sightings in the future.

Photo of the Week (05/07/2012): Bait ball at the Cargo

Bait ball! Towards the end of the season millions of tiny fish congregate on the Cargo Wreck where they are pursued relentlessly by other fish. They all bunch up and move as one in an amazing ballet as they try to avoid being eaten.

Photo of the Week (04/16/2012): The Cargo wreck in full bloom

A wreckscape of my favourite wreck, the Cargo Wreck

Photo of the Week (01/23/2012): The Trug

The propeller of the tug boat wreck fondly known as the Trug. Home of curious Lionfish and a superb swim through filled with glass fish.

Photo of the Week (01/16/2012): Divers on Taprobane East Wreck

Two divers explore the Taprobane East Wreck, one of our favourite wrecks on the outer reefs of Colombo. This day was a bit murkier than usual with about 15 meters of visibility instead of the usual 20-30m.

Read more here.