What is it about shipwrecks lying at the bottom of the ocean that excites the curiosity of even the most timid divers? Is it the window they provide through time, allowing us to gaze inquisitively to the days of the past? Is it a morbid sense of curiosity over seeing the remnants of an accident that likely caused the demise of our ancestors? Or are scuba divers merely explorers at heart, with a limitless drive to seek out the unknown? 

Perhaps it is a bit of all three. Perhaps it is something else entirely. If you’ve ever been wreck diving before, then you’ll understand this curiosity and desire to explore. And if you have never had the pleasure, then enjoy this journey to one of Oman’s premier dive sites, the Al Munasir. 

Timeline of the Al Munasir’s Construction to Sinking

Descending down the mooring line into the dark and chilly water, you hear a distant, deep and echoing bang. You continue down the line and shapes begin to take form in your murky, field of view like mirages in the desert. Are they real? Not yet… 

Clang.

The first thing you notice is that the bow doesn’t look like a bow at all. As the dark shadow begins to take form, it becomes apparent that the bow is not solid, but two hinged doors that have been left wide open, waiting to devour anything that dares approach. You finish your descent, almost down to 30 meters, and shine your torch inside the black abyss of the ship’s belly. The opening is large enough to allow her former cargo, 8 main battle tanks, to easily drive out. 

As your curiosity builds, you allow yourself to be swallowed up by the 84-meter (276-foot), 2,169-ton metal carcass. For a moment everything is black aside from your torch’s meager beam of light, attempting to permeate through the overwhelming gloom. A second later, sunlight floods through the large opening in the upper deck like a skylight. Trepidation fades as you appreciate this moment of being able to peer around the ship’s rather bare innards, while still having direct access to the surface. 

You ascend slowly up through the skylight, which isn’t really a skylight at all, but the spot where the former OTO Melara 76 mm gun was removed. (I don’t actually know what that means, but if you have any interest in military history, then perhaps you will appreciate the specs). Back out in the open, you are greeted by honeycomb moray eels the size of sea monsters, and porcupinefish as big as prize-winning watermelons. There is enough life up here to keep you engrossed for the rest of the dive, but that is not what you are here for. 

Clang.

You peer over the edge of the starboard rail and begin a circumnavigation of the outside of the wreck. You notice that the hull is oddly void of portholes, but then again, why should a cargo of tanks need portholes? As you begin to focus more precisely on the metal hull, tiny specs of color begin to come into focus. Nudibranchs, in ever shape, color, and size are waiting to be discovered. By the time you get your buddy’s attention to point out your find, you have already found another, even brighter and more colorful than the one before. 

Clang. 

You finally reach a stern deck which is open on three sides, allowing for an easy exit at all times. You make sure your buddy is comfortable with a short swim through an overhead environment, then dive in. This is where ten years of honing your diving skills are put to good use, as you make easy work of aligning your entire body in a perfectly horizontal position, breathing with the range of your lungs that will allow you to stay perfectly centered between the ceiling and the floor, and moving as minimally as possible so as not to disturb a spec of silt off the bottom. 

In the midst of the deck, a magnificent wall of bigeye snappers has congregated. You stop for a moment to admire the way the light bounces off of their silvery, shimmering scales, then look around for the real star of the show, a candy cane of a fish hiding in their midst. He is usually always here, but absent now that you are looking for him. 

Clang. 

Exiting the wreck, you backtrack along the outskirts, heading to the stern. Some would be looking for propellers, but you have brighter colors in mind. And then you see the flicker of pink and white stripes darting around just outside the deck you just came through. 

The Townsend’s anthias is fond of hanging out in wrecks, and this is the only dive site where he has been spotted in the past six weeks, making him a celebrity worth visiting. That, and his dazzling colors glow brilliantly in the otherwise dull, green murk. He, in fact, really is a he, as the females aren’t nearly as colorful. Their species exist in haremic aggregations, with one dominant male defending the lighter-colored females. When he dies, the largest female will become male and take his place, allowing the cycle to continue indefinitely. 

Content with finding the only candy cane in the gingerbread house, it is time to head towards the bow of the ship again. You stop for a brief detour on the aft deck, to view the massive hole that once accommodated a helicopter as big as a Westland Sea King. You descend briefly into the opening, but the space is void and your computer snaps you back to reality for a moment, reminding you that you’re supposed to be making your way upwards, not downwards. 

Clang. 

Back near the ascent line, you glance over the port rail for one last glimpse of those bow doors that will never open up for a fleet of tanks again. Surely those hinged, metal doors are the only things around that could possibly be making such a harrowing sound. Either that or the ship is haunted. Sure enough, the port door is swinging open and closed in the current – at least you tell yourself it’s the current. The movement is an unsettling sight given the deathly stillness of the rest of the sunken ship. 

You ascend, and that moment of maritime history, now home to a unique and mesmerizing fish, fade back into the darkness.