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Tulamben. Diving the Liberty Wreck
"Any trip is a holiday that will forever remain in your memory" — someone
Bali is known for its lush jungles, ancient temples, and serene beaches, but for divers, the real treasure lies beneath the surface. One of the island’s most famous dive sites is in Tulamben, a quiet fishing village on Bali’s northeast coast. Just a short swim from the shore, resting between 5 and 30 meters deep, lies the legendary USAT Liberty—a World War II shipwreck that has become a thriving artificial reef.
Our journey began at Ocean Villa Hotel, a cozy retreat overlooking the sea. The early morning air was fresh, carrying the scent of salt and adventure. We were here for one purpose—to dive the famous wreck. Our guide for the day was Steve, a dive master who had been leading trips in Tulamben for years. Unlike the rugged, bearded pirates one might expect in such a setting, Steve was clean-shaven, blond, and in his sixties, with sharp blue eyes and the kind of easy confidence that comes from decades underwater.
From the moment we met him, Steve’s humor was on full display. As we suited up, adjusting our masks and regulators, he grinned at us and said, "Do you know why pirates talk like parrots? Because they spent too much time with ‘em!" His laughter was contagious, setting a lighthearted tone for the dive.
He quickly took to calling my dive partner "Cinderella." She had a certain grace to her movements, and after watching her carefully adjust her fins, he smirked, "Cinderella, you ready to lose your glass slipper in the deep?" The name stuck for the rest of the day.
Reaching the shore, we were met with huge crowds of divers, all eager to descend into the waters of Tulamben. The Liberty is no hidden gem—it’s one of the most famous wreck dives in the world. People of all experience levels, from beginners to seasoned technical divers, lined the rocky beach, struggling into their wetsuits, checking dive computers, and adjusting buoyancy vests.
Despite the chaotic scene, Steve moved among us like a mother hen, fussing over our gear, double-checking our weights, and making sure we were comfortable. "Stay close, Cinderella," he told my companion. "I’d hate to have to call a prince to come fetch you from the deep."
Finally, we submerged, and the world transformed. The Liberty wreck was an awe-inspiring sight. The massive metal skeleton of the ship had long been claimed by the ocean—colorful corals covered the surface, while fish of every shape and size darted in and out of rusted openings. Schools of jackfish circled above, moray eels peered out from dark crevices, and even a lazy barracuda hovered near the stern.
We swam through sections of the wreck, exploring its haunting beauty. Shafts of sunlight pierced the water, creating an almost cathedral-like effect inside the ship. Steve led the way, ever watchful, occasionally stopping to point out interesting marine life or hidden features of the wreck.
As we surfaced, the sun was dipping lower, casting golden light over the waves. Steve, still grinning, clapped me on the back. "Not bad for a couple of landlubbers," he said.
That evening at Ocean Villa, we sat on the terrace, watching the ocean. The day had been filled with history, adventure, and plenty of laughter. Thanks to Steve, the Liberty wreck was more than just a dive site—it was a story, a memory, and a place we would never forget.
That,s all for today.
Stand by
Sincerely yours
