SCUBA Diving the Jabjab and The Old Bridge in Simpson Bay, Saint Maarten

Location:
The Jab Jab and The Bridge, Simpson Bay, Saint Maarten

Coordinates:
Lat 18°03.333’ N, Long 63°09.570’W

The Wreck of the Jab Jab – A Tale of Simpson Bay, Sint Maarten

Off the calm, turquoise waters of Simpson Bay in Sint Maarten lies the resting place of a little-known but storied vessel: the Jab Jab. Once a lively fishing boat turned island party cruiser, the Jab Jab now sits beneath the waves, slowly surrendering itself to the sea, becoming part of the underwater world it once skimmed across.

The Jab Jab was a fixture of the bay, easily recognizable by its colorful hull painted in bright reds, yellows, and greens—a nod to its Caribbean roots and the soca music that always seemed to blast from its speakers. Its name, “Jab Jab,” came from a traditional carnival character in Grenadian folklore: a mischievous, devilish figure covered in black oil or paint, known for dancing wildly in the streets. The boat bore its name proudly, earning a reputation as the place to be for sunset cruises, live steel pan music, and moonlit celebrations.

But the island, like the sea, gives and takes. In September 2017, Hurricane Irma struck the island with a fury unseen in decades. Winds howled at over 180 miles per hour. Simpson Bay, once a safe harbor, turned into a cauldron of chaos. Boats broke from their moorings. Yachts collided like dominoes. And the Jab Jab, anchored just off the beach, didn’t stand a chance.

When the storm subsided, the bay was littered with debris—broken masts, shattered hulls, torn sails. The Jab Jab was found partially submerged, battered against the rocks near the edge of the lagoon. The locals hoped it could be salvaged, but time, rust, and rot had already taken their toll. The owners made a tough choice: let the sea claim her.

Divers today can visit the remains of the Jab Jab just a short swim from shore. Coral now creeps across her frame, and schools of bright fish dart in and out of the crevices that were once cabins and coolers. Her colorful paint has faded, but some say you can still see flashes of red and green in the right light. At night, when the moon is full and the tide is low, some swear they hear the echo of a steel pan floating up from below the surface, a ghostly reminder of the parties once held aboard.

The Jab Jab has become more than a wreck. She’s a local legend, a symbol of resilience, and a living reef that brings new life to the bay. In losing her, Simpson Bay gained something unexpected—an underwater memory of joy, rhythm, and island spirit.

The Old Bridge Scuba Site – Simpson Bay, Sint Maarten

Beneath the warm turquoise waters of Simpson Bay, Sint Maarten, lies a dive site that locals speak of with quiet reverence—The Old Bridge. What remains today is not just twisted iron and coral-covered concrete; it is a sunken monument to the island’s changing tides, both natural and human.

Once part of a bustling drawbridge that spanned the channel between Simpson Bay Lagoon and the Caribbean Sea, the structure was retired decades ago, replaced by modern engineering and the demands of expanding maritime traffic. Rather than discard the remnants, islanders chose to let the sea claim them, transforming the bridge into an artificial reef.

Divers enter the site from the southern coast of Simpson Bay, just a short boat ride from the marina. As they descend, the surface ripples fade and the shape of the bridge comes into view—a dark skeleton scattered across the sandy bottom, now adorned in sea fans, sponges, and soft corals. Rusting beams arc like the bones of a whale, their sharp geometry softened by decades underwater.

Despite the decay, life flourishes here. Schools of grunts and snapper swirl around the structure, hiding in the shadows beneath what once was a support column. French angelfish glide between vertical girders, and hawksbill turtles are often spotted grazing on algae. For those lucky and patient enough, octopuses can be seen shifting their shapes in and out of the crevices—silent sentinels of this underwater ruin.

The bridge’s history adds to its allure. Stories whisper that during Hurricane Luis in 1995, parts of the bridge were torn from their foundations and later submerged intentionally to help restore marine life devastated by the storm. Others say it was a quiet decision made by a few passionate divers who saw potential in its remains. Whatever the truth, The Old Bridge now holds a place in the island’s underwater legacy.

Divers from around the world come not just to see the marine life, but to feel a sense of time paused—a world above, sun-soaked and hurried, forgotten for a moment beneath the waves. In the silence of the sea, the Old Bridge speaks in coral, current, and the quiet rhythm of renewal.

It is a site not just of recreation, but of remembrance. A place where history meets habitat, and where the ruins of progress are reclaimed by the sea.