Battleship Island - Japan's Rotting Metropolis

Battleship Island - Japan's Rotting Metropolis

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These days the only things that land on Hashima Island are the shits of passing seagulls. An

hour or sos sail from the port of Nagasaki, the abandoned island silently crumbles. A

former coal mining facility owned by Mitsubishi Motors, it was once the most densely

populated place on earth, packing over 13,000 people into each square kilometre of its

residential high-risers.

It operated from 1887 until 1974, after which the coal industry

fell into decline and the mines were shut for good. With their jobs gone and no other reason

to stay in this mini urban nightmare, almost overnight the entire population fled back to

the mainland, leaving most of their stuff behind to rot.

Today it is illegal to go anywhere near the place as its beyond restoration and totally

unsafe. The Japanese Government arent keen to draw unwanted attention to this testament to

the hardship of the countrys post-war industrial revolution either.

The punishment for being caught visiting Hashima Island is 30 days in prison followed by

immediate deportation. But the other week, after getting up before sunrise and cutting a

secret deal with a local fisherman, some friends and I landed on Hashima Island.

The port of Nagasaki is an international fare where youre more likely to find granny-laden

cruise ships and large oil tankers filling the docks than buck-toothed fisherman willing to

break the law for a few extra bob, so we took the early morning ferry to the still-inhabited

Takashima, the closest island to Hashima. After asking around and being politely turned

away by every Japanese we mentioned it to finally we found our man. The rules of Japanese

politeness dictate you never say what you want directly, so even once we were aboard the

boat we werent sure we were actually going to set foot on Hashima wed only agreed for

our fisherman to take us close enough to see it.

Bobbing into view, the grey seawalls artificial angling of the island gives it the shape of

a battleship hence its Japanese name in popular mythology, Gunkanjima - Battleship

Island.

Getting closer, talks with the fisherman continued slowly it was only as we were actually

setting foot on the landing jetty that he finally agreed to give us a couple of hours to

explore before returning to pick us up.

In some areas the entire faades of buildings had fallen to the ground, revealing grids of

homes, each exposed with their 70s television sets smashed after the TV stands had eroded

away. It was difficult to gauge exactly what it might have been like to live here, although

with the complete lack of outdoors space and the prison-like seawall keeping you in, I cant

imagine it to have been anything other than claustrophobic, uncomfortable, and a bit like

living in an ant farm.

Personal artefacts lay littered everywhere old shoes, bottles of shampoo, newspapers and

even posters left on teenagers walls these were the most vivid clues that people had once

been here.

We explored the empty classrooms of the islands huge school. The rusted carcasses of desks

and chairs lay in front of blackboards displaying the withered dusty marks of the last class

to have taken place there 30 years before.

From the top floor gymnasium we looked down into the main auditorium, whose roof had caved

in long before. It was clearly structurally unsafe, we were walking over large slabs which

had fallen previously from the ceilings above us.

On roughly the ninth floor of an apartment block, I stepped into one of the rooms to admire

the sea view from the window. The traditional woven tatami floor beneath my feet, unused to

human contact, gave way, sending a tremendous ripping sound through the buildings shell. I

fell

about one meter, but it was enough to freak us out and from here on we took more care where

we trod.

At only 1.2km squared, the island is tiny, but you never can quite grasp this when youre

winding through its perspective warping high-risers. To get a better overall look we scaled

the central watchtower - precarious as its old access paths was now overgrown beyond

usability.

It never crossed our minds that the fisherman wouldnt come back. We were more worried that

we only had those two hours on the island, an arbitrary frame of time my friend picked in

the moment of excitement when we got the green light for transport. There was enough stuff

there to keep us busy there for an entire day.

And then, two days after this was written, the government re-opened it.

ALEX HOBAN

About the Author:
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