Currajong Wreck Dive

By Mark Leveson

You’re going where? …. To do what? …. When? ….

You get used to this kind of reaction when you tell people you are taking a boat to just near Bradley’s Head in Sydney Harbour, to dive a 68 metre ship wreck in 24 metres of water with two metre visibility at 1:00 am in the morning in the middle of winter.

The only people who will believe me are those fools who were stupid enough to actually come along. Rhonda Buckley, Derek Morton, Blake Trudgeon, Steve Walsh, Josh Stark and Keith Quinn are in fact those fools. They accompanied this idiot on the “Scubaroos” boat run by Yves (the French guy).

On the evening of 8 March 1910, the TSS Currajong entered Port Jackson and headed up the Harbour. As the Currajong neared Bradleys Head, the huge 6000 plus tons passenger liner, SS Wyreema, bound for Cairns approached from the west. As was later to be shown at the Marine Inquiry, the Wyreema was traveling on the wrong side of the channel and hit the Currajong amidships on the port side. The Currajong started sinking immediately and the helmsman, Hans Neilson, was killed.

Waiting around at the Rose Bay dock in the wee hours of the morning with a cold wind blowing we saw Yves boat appear out of the spectacular backdrop of the Sydney skyline. There was a little apprehension in the air, however, this was totally overwhelmed by the excitement of what we were planning to do.

Since the dive site is in the harbour’s main shipping channels it must be undertaken after Harbour officially closes down for the day.

As Yves pulled in to the wharf we saw the last few of the major vessels that would delay us traversing our dive site. Now it was go, go, go. Traveling to the site was simple – a five minute boat ride in Harbour protected water – easy.

Apparently the Harbour floor directly around the site contains absolutely nothing, so Yves located and anchored on the wreck with ease. Time to finish gearing up, last minute checks and then jump into the calm, and eerily black waters of the Harbour.

On the way down the anchor line it was apparent the visibility wasn’t going to be great (after all, this was low tide). Thank goodness I brought along my reel. I tied off on the top of the wreck at about 20 metres and headed over the side to silty bottom, now at 24 metres. There wasn’t a lot to see on the side of the ship so I ventured back up to the top of its single deck. Here a multitude of low metal structures, old rigging, cables, ropes and fishing nets offered an entire ecosystem for the life on the wreck.

There was a slight current at the surface which extended right down to the bottom. Nothing one couldn’t handle, but just enough to cause you to bump into the odd piece of protruding structure which you couldn’t see in your peripheral vision. Fortunately, the wreck is not subject to heavy ocean swells, lies on a soft flat bottom and was not badly damaged in the collision. It is in excellent condition and entirely intact. Traversing the surface of the wreck the visibility varied between one and two metres. There are no viable penetration points that I saw and navigation was by reel, wreck landmarks and feel. I did recognise I had got the bow when I found the big pointy bit.

Through the silty, black murk our torch beams exposed much of the life on show. Many oyster shells, soft and hard corals littered the deck which made home for all the usual suspects as well as bream, luderick, hermit crabs, conger eels, large morwong and even a decorator crab (thanks to Steve for finding that). We were warned that the wreck’s large resident wobbegongs could be a bit “testy” at that time of the night and not to annoy or play with them, however, that must have seen us coming and for their own safety decided to stay out of sight (they would have only needed to be 2.5 metres away to achieve this in 2 metre vis, remember).

Reaching our planned 25 minute bottom time I reluctantly returned to the anchor line (I love my reel) to commence our ascent. Our safety stop was pretty quiet, it was totally calm with no swell to cause the usual jerking anchor line, total darkness when our torch beams were covered or pointing away, almost no visibility and funnily enough I kept hearing the theme from Jaws playing.

Back on board, the divers oozed excitement at what an amazing experience that had just shared. In fact, they weren’t bad for idiots – it WAS worth coming out at this ridiculous hour. Yves boiled the water and made soup whilst we relaxed under the vista of a spectacular city night skyline and returned on the very short ride back to Rose Bay wharf.

I was talking to Blake on the way home remarking how energised we both were from the cool air and the adrenaline of the dive. It was hard to believe it was now nearly 4:00 am.

Many thanks to my fellow diving idiots for coming along and for those of you who are envious Yves does these dives monthly. Have a word to the shop and try to convince them to organise another Currajong dive REAL soon. As an added bonus this dive should be considered, by those who are suitably qualified, to be a nitrox dive. Just think of the long bottom time on nitrox 36 or better yet nitrox 39.

A special thanks should also go to the captain of the Wyreema for his careless navigation skills which gave us such a great diving opportunity within sight of the Opera House and the Harbour Bridge.