Would you dive the Salem Express?

No single shipwreck epitomizes the moral maze of wreck diving more fully than the Salem Express.

Photo: Simon Rogerson Photo: Simon Rogerson

No single shipwreck epitomizes the moral maze of wreck diving more fully than the Salem Express. Along with many of the divers who visit the Red Sea, I had heard stories of this wreck, of how in December 1991 the 100m passenger ferry went down off the Egyptian port of Safaga with 690 passengers on board.

The tragedy was made all the more poignant by the fact that the ferry was returning from Mecca, carrying pilgrims who had just completed the hajj. Accounts of the tragedy say that the Salem Express struck a reef, which opened a large hole in the forward section. As water flooded in, the pressure blew open the stern doors. The ship sank in little more than ten minutes – only 180 people survived.

It was a modern tragedy on a terrible scale. Indeed, it is now commonly accepted that the official number of passengers was a fabrication, and that there were as many as 1,600 on board, mostly from Upper Egypt. Many wrecks have tragic histories, but this was a national catastrophe with resonance across the Arab world. The sinking of the Salem Express has touched many Egyptian lives, and the event is still fresh in the national consciousness.

Egyptian crews are understandably reluctant to take divers to the wreck, and I had privately decided never to dive it. After all, if a similar wreck lay British waters, the government would almost certainly find a way to keep people away from it, even if it meant passing a new law.

On a recent trip, however, I met an Egyptian dive guide who caused me to reconsider my position. I was on the Susannah 1 liveaboard at the time, hoping to get across to the Brother Islands, but being held back by strong winds. The other guests understood the situation and were quite happy to dive the reefs around Safaga while we waited for a break in the weather. Then, something I would never have expected: the leading dive guide, an Alexandrian by the name of Waleed El Sawy, said we could dive the Salem Express.

Surprised by the offer, I took Waleed aside and asked if anyone had put pressure on him to visit the wreck. Over the previous few days, he had greatly impressed me with his diplomatic handling of the guests. Some were inexperienced, some were bumptious and demanding, but he smoothed over every little issue with an urbane humour and not a little charm. Had one of the guests, frustrated by the weather, demanded that we dive the forbidden wreck by way of consolation?

He shook his head. ‘No, not at all. We don’t go there often, but if you have the right people on board, the crew do not mind taking them to this wreck. The Egyptian guides will not join you on the dive, because there are so many signs of death on the wreck. You will see. But in my mind, it is no different to walking through a graveyard. As long as you behave in a respectful way, you will not cause offence.’

Waleed was in a better position than most to determine whether our group was sufficiently mature to be allowed onto this wreck. He was one of the divers who worked on the recovery of bodies in the weeks after the sinking. Aged just 18 at the time, he saw things no one should ever have to see as he made his way through the hellish interior. Recovery operations continued for some weeks after the sinking, and the volunteer divers had to handle corpses which were already in advanced states of decomposition. These were bodies of pilgrims who died in a state of grace after completing the hajj. Waleed couldn’t sleep for three weeks after the harrowing process, yet, here he was encouraging me to dive a wreck which he could no longer bear to see. ‘Go, do the dive,’ he urged me. ‘Visit the wreck, but remember where you are.’

So I joined the group, and experienced the wreck first-hand. The dive itself is quite easy: even a large liveaboard can moor up more or less above the wreck, which lies in the shelter of Hyndman Reef. During my dive, there was no current, but visibility was an impressive 20m. From the moment I entered the water, I could see the grey stillness of the wreck below, lying on its starboard with the port side just 12m below the surface. There was some coral growth, but for the most part it looked like what it was – a recent shipwreck.

Deciding to use the same dive pattern I typically employ on a good-sized wreck, I swam down to the stern and looked for the propellers at 26m. Waleed had suggested a route that took me under the wreck, where there is a fairly spacious swim-through between the hull and the sea bed. Aware of the 1,100-tonne mass above, I finned gingerly through under the hull, surprising a white-tip reef shark which had been slumbering on the sand.

As the darkness gave way to dim light, I could see piles of sheet metal roofing, dislodged during the sinking. It is this part of the wreck which brings home the full calamity of the Salem Express and its sinking. The sea bed around the poop deck and the main deck is littered with personal effects – suitcases flung open, tape recorders dusted with silt, lying untouched as memorials to a modern tragedy.
Many times I have dived on wrecks in which people have died, but this was different. Everywhere I looked, there seemed to be a sign of those desperate minutes when the pilgrims met their fate. As a reminder of the sheer speed of the sinking, no image is as potent as that of the lifeboats, still attached to their davits, waiting for passengers who never managed to escape. It was one of the most desperately sad things I have ever seen. I continued to the bow and swam out into the blue to try and get an impression of the ship’s size. This is always an atmospheric way to look at a wreck, but with all I had experienced over the course of the dive, the bow’s ghostly outline put me in mind of a giant memorial.

No one said much after the dive. People placed their kit back on the racks, hung up their wetsuits, prepared mugs of hot tea and meandered off to their preferred parts of the boat to reflect. I didn’t regret doing the dive, but I felt none of the familiar elation which comes with a successful wreck dive. The wreck’s intense, oppressive atmosphere had pervaded my mood: I didn’t get the sort of Gothic thrill you would associate with an overgrown cemetery or a moody old ruin; instead, a quiet sadness which sapped all my energy.

‘Now you know why I don’t dive this wreck,’ Waleed said as we discussed the dive. ‘For Egyptians, the feelings you experienced are even more profound. There are those who believe the wreck should never be visited; there are still some bodies deep inside. For me, it’s a question of appropriate behaviour: you can walk through a graveyard and take in the atmosphere of the place without ripping open graves. With the Salem Express, you can dive around the outside and even look through some of the openings, but don’t go deep into the wreck, because it is a grave.’

For now, most visiting divers are well-briefed by dive guides, and treat the Salem Express in an appropriately respectful manner. But as time passes and the superstructure is taken over by coral, it will inevitably take on a different identity. There are other wrecks in which people lost their lives, but after a certain amount of time passes, the wreck ceases to exist as a tomb.

Will it ever be socially acceptable for a diver to venture deep inside the Salem Express? Khaled believes that time will inevitably come, when death gives way to life and the wreck is covered in Red Sea coral and the lives of victims’ families give way to new generations. Diving has presented us with some complex moral dilemmas. Such is the emotive power attached to the Salem Express, Waleed and I will be handfuls of dust by the time it completes its own gradual transition in the hearts of the Egyptian people. Its baleful atmosphere affects all those who dive the wreck – it’s an extraordinary dive, but I have no plans to return.

For now, the Egyptian government has decided not to intervene, and it is possible to visit the wreck either from Safaga or on Hurghada-based liveaboards, at the discretion of individual operators. If your crew express disquiet at the prospect of diving the wreck, my advice is to drop the idea and enjoy the great diving this area has to offer. But if you do find yourself diving the Salem Express, be aware of where you are and do not treat the experience lightly, for this wreck is the grave of pilgrims.

Film-maker John McIntyre believes divers should be allowed to visit the wreck
When I first dived the Salem Express, a few years had passed since the tragedy and feelings were still fairly raw. Some local dive guides wouldn’t go anywhere near the wreck. But others took the view that if divers understood the enormity of the loss and could respect the scale of tragedy, then it was fine to dive it, providing there was no penetration of the wreck. This was a view I shared. As a BBC journalist who’s often been called upon to report from the scene of appalling tragedy, whether plane crashes, shootings or mass burials such as those in Kosovo, I do not find it difficult to observe at the same time as maintaining a respect for the losses. With a few exceptions, most people are capable of visiting sites of profound historical significance without violating the memories of those who’ve perished. Indeed, investigation and personal observation help create a better understanding of what’s happened. Besides, how long is long enough? How many deaths are too many? Plenty of wrecks around the world have claimed lives and yet we do not question the wisdom of diving them.

Salem Express claimed the lives of hundreds of people on a journey of faith. It is an impressive wreck, which has become an important part of the Red Sea’s maritime history. The sadness is almost palpable, but every time I dive the wreck, I do so with the utmost respect. Knowing the ship’s story makes that possible.

Photojournalist Louise Murray argues the Salem Express should remain undived
‘I was invited by a local operator to dive the Salem Express within months of her sinking, a little more than ten years ago. I felt strongly then, and still do now, that I personally do not wish to dive on a site of such great tragedy.

The wishes of Egyptians who lost their loved ones must be respected. They were adamant at the time, when diving the ferry was first mooted, that no artefacts be removed and no penetration of the wreck should take place. Many believed that no diving should be allowed at all.

We seem incapable of curbing the activities of a few bad apples who are unwilling to respect the wishes of others and leave our own Second World War graves intact. Do we think that we can do better on a Red Sea wreck where the belongings and remains of many hundreds of religious pilgrims lie and most Egyptian dive guides refuse to accompany guests? I don’t believe so.

I come from the northeast of Scotland, where many communities have lost generations of fishermen in all too frequent tragedies at sea. The feeling locally is that if the bodies cannot be retrieved from the sea then they should be left to rest undisturbed and the wrecks in which they lie should remain undived. I am certain that the communities who lost many in the sinking of the Salem Express would articulate the same feelings if consulted directly.’