Diving > Articles > Diving HMAS Swan

You look for omens on any seas voyage, and the cheeky young seal that was our escort to HMAS Swan’s final resting place seemed to point to a fine day’s diving. Gambolling along the surface, flippers stretched toward the autumn sunshine, he was clearly revelling in the calm seas and blue sky every bit as much as we were. He came right alongside just as we reached the mooring buoys, fixed us with his big brown eyes and then carefully preened his whiskers before sliding away into the depths.

After being decommissioned in 1996, the destroyer escort HMAS Swan became the first Australian Navy ship designated to become a dive site and artificial reef. Every scuba enthusiast in the country immediately added it to their dive trip wish-list. I had wanted to hold off for a while, guessing it would be a while before the shiny steel hulk grew an overcoat of barnacles and plant-life and some interesting marine critters moved in. So it was that nearly a decade after “scuttling day” (14 December 1997), I found myself puttering out into Geographe Bay on the most glorious of days, seal escort and all.

The 15-minute boat ride gave us just enough time to suit up while our dive guide Shelley briefed us about the wreck. A number of potential scuttling sites had been considered, with safety and accessibility for divers the key factors along with any environmental impact on an area that hosts whales, dugongs and vital sea-grass beds. The site finally chosen (1.3 nautical miles off Cape Naturaliste at a depth of 95 feet), was largely clear of sea-grasses and promised safe, comfortable diving conditions year-round. The ship was then cleaned of all traces of oil and munitions, her gun turrets removed, hatches welded open or shut, and holes cut in her sides to provide safe egress for divers.

Underwater visibility for our dive was excellent, up to forty feet, so we had barely begun our descent when we were able to make out the spindly arms of the crow’s nest, perched halfway up the ship’s tower. I was immediately reminded when diving a wreck – even one as visitor-friendly as this – nothing quite prepares you for that first glimpse, through the gloom, of the outline of the ship, its features becoming clear as you descend.

We reached the top of the tower 20ft below the surface, and at around 60ft we were alongside the bridge. Heading straight for the bottom, we turned and swam the length of the hull, a distance of 380ft. Each hatchway we passed teemed with “bullseyes”, their iridescent scales creating a shimmering curtain of red, which parted as we poked our flashlights into a cutaway section of the stern.

Satisfied that we now had a sense of the ship’s size, we swam to the bridge and penetrated the wreck for the first time, via a forward gun turret. Finning carefully along a narrow corridor, I was acutely aware that one usual feature of scuba diving – freedom of movement – was conspicuously absent. Adjusting to the restricted space, I developed the knack of settling onto my knees to examine one compartment before launching myself like an astronaut through a hatchway into the next. With this technique came a moment of startled recognition, as I sailed through the crew’s sleeping quarters and came suddenly upon a sombre row of steel toilets. In a ship stripped completely bare before being consigned to the deep, they seemed a poignant symbol of human habitation.

Exiting the ship from the operations room, we made our way forward via the deck railing (we could literally have removed our fins and walked). Our plan had always been to leave the bridge until last, so we could take turns at the helm for a few silly photos. After a bit of mucking around in what I took to be the watch chair, we swam out and up for a closer inspection of the crow’s nest before a final three-minute decompression stop at the top of the tower.

It’s unlikely anyone present at the launch of HMAS Swan on 16 December 1967, could have imagined the manner of the ship’s demise or the role she would take on in retirement. As an artificial reef, the ship has become a focus for marine ecology in Western Australia and a safe, accessible site of interest to divers from all over the world.

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