The curse of the Alkimos shipwreck
Tim the Yowie Man
Tim the Yowie Man
Of these, none has drawn the attention of paranormal aficionados more than the SS Alkimos, which snapped a towline on 31 May 1963 while being towed from Fremantle in Western Australia to Hong Kong for repairs. Wild weather drove it ashore near Yanchep, about 56km north of Perth.
During World War II, the Alkimos transported US soldiers and German POWs and later became a merchant ship. While sailing the high seas, the Alkimos was plagued by misfortune, unexpected breakdowns and – wait for it – onboard ghost sightings.
However, it’s primarily due to an uncanny series of events after it ran aground that earned the Alkimos its unwanted moniker as “the most cursed shipwreck” in Australia. In fact, if a long list of anecdotal reports is any indication, it seems just about anyone who touches, or even dives, near the wreck, risks being jinxed.
In the years immediately after it ran aground, 12 salvage attempts were made. All failed.
In 1966, still hopeful the wreck could be recovered, Jack Sue, an expert diver who specialised in salvage operations, carried out repairs on the wreck with a team of divers. Initially, Jack was sceptical about the curse, but after hearing phantom footsteps emerge from sections of the galley, his attitude quickly changed.
After leaving the ship, Jack spent 10 months in hospital with a mystery illness that he claims almost killed him. While he was in hospital, his wife died in a car accident. Another diver’s marriage broke up and the fiancée of another diver died in a plane crash off the WA coast.
Three years later, long-distance swimmer Herbert Voigt vanished while attempting to swim the 19.7km stretch from Cottesloe Beach to Rottnest Island. His skull was later found lodged in – you guessed it – the Alkimos wreck (some 43km north of Rottnest), although some reports suggest it was discovered on a nearby beach.
Then there are the mysterious fires that broke out on the wreck. I told you it was a long list and that’s just the tip of the iceberg.
In 1997 I decided to test this “curse” and swam out to the wreck. It was a calm day, but just after I hollered, “If there really is a curse, show me!”, a freak wave smashed me against the wreck, cutting my hand.
It also startled a flock of seabirds that flew en masse towards me – it was like a scene from Alfred Hitchcock’s The Birds.
That was just the beginning. In the next few days, I lost my job, was headbutted unconscious by a camel (really!), and suffered a nasty bout of pneumonia.
Of course, it was all just coincidence. Curses don’t exist. That’s the world of witch doctors and hocus-pocus.
Nonetheless, I wasn’t leaving anything to chance. I swam back out to the Alkimos, and as I touched the wreck, I felt compelled to yell, “Sorry”. There was an uneasy silence – no crazy birds, no freakish waves, and no cut hand, and from that day onwards, I returned to full health.
And good luck.
Although very little of the Alkimos remains above the surface today, the curse of the Alkimos is feared more than ever. Fishers and divers skirt well clear of it. And I don’t blame them.
