Hashima Island
The Abandoned Island
Imagine an island so small that building a city on it seems impossible. Now imagine that, instead of a few houses, there appear concrete buildings, a school, a hospital, shops, restaurants, and even a cinema.
For decades, thousands of people lived there. Today, no one remains. The island is called Hashima, although many know it as Gunkanjima, “the battleship island,” due to the silhouette of its massive buildings.
Coal Beneath the Sea
Hashima is a small rocky island located off the coast of Nagasaki, Japan. At first glance, it doesn’t seem like a particularly useful place to live. It is tiny, surrounded by the sea, and has barely any space for construction.
But beneath the seabed, there was something very valuable: coal. At the end of the 19th century, an undersea mine began to be exploited in the area. Miners had to descend through deep shafts to reach the coal seams located beneath the ocean.
And the more the mine grew, the more workers it needed.
A City on a Rock
The problem was obvious. Where were all those workers going to live?
The solution was to build on the island itself. Walls were erected to protect it from the waves, and land was reclaimed from the sea.
Little by little, Hashima ceased to look like a small rock and began to become a true industrial city. Huge concrete housing blocks appeared. Then came a school, a hospital, shops, restaurants, sports facilities, and other services. There was even a cinema.
Everything was concentrated in a tiny space.
Thousands of People
At its peak, thousands of people came to live on Hashima. The population density was extraordinary. The homes were built right next to each other, and there was barely any open space. The buildings formed a kind of enormous wall around the island.
From the sea, Hashima looked like a fortress. That is how its famous nickname was born: Gunkanjima, the battleship island.
A City with No Space
Living there must have been completely different from living in any other city.
Homes, school, work, and practically everything needed for daily life were just a few minutes’ walk away.
But there was also something impossible to forget: the ocean was everywhere. The island was so small that the inhabitants could gaze at the sea from virtually any spot. And beneath their feet, a huge undersea mine continued to operate.
When Coal Was No Longer Needed
For decades, Hashima thrived thanks to coal. But Japan began to change its energy sources. Oil progressively replaced coal as the main source of energy, and coal mines lost importance.
Finally, in 1974, the Hashima mine closed. And something extraordinary happened. An entire city was left empty. The inhabitants had to leave. The buildings remained. But the people disappeared.
A ghost town
After the closure, Hashima was completely abandoned. The apartments, schools, shops, and mine facilities remained on the island, exposed to the wind, rain, and ocean salt.
With no one to repair the buildings, deterioration began quickly. The concrete cracked. The windows disappeared. Plants began to grow among the ruins. The former homes gradually turned into empty buildings.
Nature reclaims the island
Today, Hashima looks like a city frozen in time.
The large housing blocks still stand, but many are deteriorated. In some places, vegetation grows among the abandoned structures. The hallways once full of workers and families remain silent.
It is hard to imagine that thousands of people lived there. And perhaps that is the most surprising part of Hashima. We are not seeing a city that was never built. We are seeing a city that existed, was full of life, and then disappeared.
The mini-adventure of visiting the island that lost its inhabitants
Hashima belongs to the mini-adventure category because it tells one of those stories that seem impossible. On a tiny rock in the middle of the sea, human beings built a city for thousands of people. For decades, there were families, children, workers, schools, shops, and places of leisure.
Then, the mine closed. Everyone left. And the city was left behind.
Today, the sea still surrounds Hashima, but where machines, conversations, and playing children were once heard, only empty buildings and the sound of the waves remain.
