Diving the Valhalla Missile silo
I am going to take this dive blog/log in two parts, first I am going to cover some of the history of the site and the Atlas missiles that were housed here and then describe the dive trip and my fortunes and misfortunes! Keep scrolling down for both the history and dive trip stories and pictures.
History of the West Texas missile silos
Valhalla is a relic of the ‘Cold War’. The Cold War really started in 1947 after World War II ended and the alliance that was formed between Russia and the US against the German forces dissolved with the splitting of the post war landscape into the Eastern Block countries (Russia and its Allies) and the Western block (the US and its Allies). From that point on a ‘Cold War’ based on fear, distrust, political intrigue, fear of ‘falling behind,’ and propaganda spawned both the ‘arms race’ and the space race, fueled regional conflicts like Vietnam and the ‘Bay of Pigs’ to the point of world conflict and mutual destruction – BUT the main antagonists (US and Russia) in this 25 year war never actually engaged in a battle. However, in the late 50’s and early 60’s we were really close.
As a kid we spent all of our spare time on Dad’s boat on the river Deben in Suffolk, UK. On the Bawdsey side of the river was an old stately manor that had been the center for the development of the radar in the Second World War. The military was still operating it in the early 1970’s, and I can remember seeing the Bloodhound missiles on the hillsides pointing at (we assumed) the Russians, but more likely aimed at targets in East Germany and other European states that were behind the ‘Iron Curtain’ and, therefore, part of the Eastern Block.
I still remember the Reagan era TV ads showing the ‘nuclear shield’ which was part of the proliferation of the arms race. We were told that “In the event of a nuclear event, we should hide under a table”……great advice. The TV was also full of ‘post apocalyptic’ films and TV shows; we were both terrified and entertained by the idea of the ‘ultimate war/deterrent’.
The time line of the construction, commissioning and decommissioning of the Valhalla Silo dovetails perfectly with the years that the East and West came the closest to a nuclear world war. The Valhalla site was commissioned in 1962, the year that President Kennedy and the world found out that Russia was placing ‘intermediate range’ missiles in Cuba. Castro was looking for protection from the West; Khrushchev knew that Russia was behind in the arms race and that while their missiles could strike Europe from Russia, they knew that the US intercontinental ballistic missiles could strike Russia from the US. Placing their intermediate range missiles in Cuba with the range to hit the USA would counterbalance the US ICBM threat and balance out the arms race again.
These were unbelievably perilous times for the world. On discovering that the Russians were building the launch sites in Cuba, Kennedy announced that the US would quarantine the island and basically set up a naval blockade (Bay of Pigs) to prevent the Russians from moving more missiles and equipment to the island. On October 25, 1962 as the public debate and political rhetoric raged, Kennedy ordered that the quarantine line be moved back, and he raised the military alert level to ‘DEFCON 2”.
On the 26th Khrushchev sent an ‘impassioned’ letter to Kennedy saying that he would take the missiles out of Cuba in return for America promising not to invade Cuba. But, on the 27th of October the offer was almost withdrawn when a U2 spy plane was shot down over Cuba and Khrushchev sent a second letter to Kennedy, this time demanding that the US remove missile bases from Turkey.
But, as fast as it escalated, diplomacy and common sense prevailed on October 28th when Khrushchev agreed to remove all the missiles and long range bombers from Cuba. Nuclear war was almost triggered and averted in the space of four days in October 1962.
But what was going on in Abilene? In the late 1950’s construction started on twelve missile silos around the Dyess Air Force Base near Abilene. The reason that the site was chosen was a combination of things. Early versions of the Atlas missiles that were to be deployed in Abilene did not have the range of Conair’s latest ATLAS F; it was the pinnacle of technology for the ICMB, smaller, faster and with a much greater range than all of its predecessors. The shorter range missiles needed to be closer to the coast so that they would have the range to hit targets in Russia.
However, with its extra range the ATLAS F missile could be launched from deeper in America, putting it out of the range of submarine-launched Russian missiles but still being able to hit Russia. The AFB was in Abilene so it was chosen as a site for the ATLAS F launch site.
The concrete structures were built of hardened concrete with massive steel reinforcement at a cost of $15M each. The silo consisted of the main missile housing silo, 60 ft wide, 180 ft deep and sitting under two concrete launch doors that could be opened with hydraulic rams. The whole missile would be raised above ground to be launched. The silo contained a maze of catwalks and structures to service the missile that stood 82 feet tall and had a diameter of only 10 feet.
Connected to the silo by a narrow passage with huge blast doors was the command and launch center. This was essentially a metal doughnut suspended around a concrete pillar, held in place with chains and hydraulic lifts that allowed it to ‘float’ in the space. The command/launch center had to float because it was designed to withstand a ‘near nuclear’ attack and be insulated from the rocking and shaking of the earth and still launch the missile. From the command room there are spiral steps and more blast doors that lead to the surface and a small amount of surface support structures (above ground control room, staff quarters etc).
All these sites were commissioned in 1962 at the heart of the Cold War, in the middle of the Cuban Missile crisis, and the men who sat in the control room would have been aware of the ‘DEFCON 2’ alert status of the military. You need to think about that when you are there!! However, the real threat of active warfare declined rapidly through 1963, and the missile silos were decommissioned in 1964. From that point they were stripped of anything valuable, decommissioned and eventually sold to the public to become unique houses or in the case of Valhalla, a very unique dive site.
So what about the missiles? What do you do with a bunch of Intercontinental Ballistic missiles that are surplus to military requirements? Well, why not start a space race against the ‘old enemy’? As far as the Russians felt that they were behind the US in the development of ICBM’s summed up the way that the US felt when the Russians launched the Sputnik satellite in 1957, so with the Cuban Missile Crisis over, we entered the space race in earnest and all the Atlas F missiles were moved over to NASA to form the heart of the Mercury space missions and other space hardware’s launch engines. Atlas F missiles successfully launched over 175 payloads into space.
But where did they come from. You really have to go back to the starting point of the Cold War when Russia and the US and Allies carved up Europe. At the same time they were grabbing the NAZI scientist that had developed the V1, V2 and jet fighter planes that were way ahead of technology that either Russia or the US had at that time. Those scientists that the US got were hurried away from the war trials and jails that they probably should have faced to White Sands, NM and whatever the equal and opposite was in Russia.
All the old V1 and V2 rockets that were recovered were shipped to Whitesands as well. It was quite the German party down there and it included such luminaries as Alfred Einstein, but we will forgive all of them their pasts because they were essential to encouraging both the arms race and the space race. I would have said to ‘our victory’ in both, but I really do not think that there were many ‘winners’ in either…..unless you consider the covers on ironing boards….that was cool.
So our German friends busied themselves through the late 1940’s and 1950’s generating air breathing and solid fuel rockets that would become the ATLAS A, then B, and eventually the very mountain peak of nuclear warhead throwing capacity…the ATLAS F – the very same missile that sat in a silo outside Abilene that is now called Valhalla and that I had the great pleasure to dive in August of 2011. I would love to go back and dive on the 25, 26 and 27 of October 2011 and think about what it was like in there in 1962, sweaty finger over a little red button, USA and Russia on the brink of a world ending nuclear war.
If you get to dive the site, sit awhile in the dark corridors, touch the remains of the catwalks that engineers walked round pampering a pointy little missile that was so ready to fly. Take a while and think back, you can feel it.
For a history of the Hannifin’s involvement with the site, the development of Family Scuba and the diving history from the first dive that they made to the operation today, I recommend that you check out the following article in Dive Training with story by David Prichard and photo’s by Lily Mak.
Having a BLAST in the Valhalla missile silo!
How much fun can you have diving in a 60 ft wide, 180 ft deep reinforced concrete cylinder full of 58 degree water in Abilene, TX? Well, actually you can have a lot of fun! Having just finished diving the Bonne Terre Mines in Missouri. I am wondering if I will ever get to dive in the light of day again! But it was a Monday and I had no diving planned for the weekend; I had heard about Valhalla but knew that you can only dive there if you are part of a shop or club that has rented the facility.
Therefore, I shot an email to Mark Hannifin, the owner of the facility and Family Scuba in Midland, to see who (if anybody) had rented the facility the next weekend. His quick reply made me smile – Tom’s Dive and Swim in Austin had the facility reserved, and I had already been on two Flower Gardens trips with them. A quick email to Warren and a call to Kirk, and I was on the roster!!
I actually had a week at home in Austin to think about the dives and prepare my gear. The only gear issue that I had was that all my primary diving gear including my dry suit was in California waiting for a San Diego dive the following weekend – When would I need a dry suit in Texas anyway?? Well, I did now! That meant that I was going to have to fall back on my least favorite wet suit, the dreaded Pinnacle 8/6mm. I pulled it out of a box and threw it in the shower to get it wet; the suit was never comfortable, and the zipper on it was temperamental at best!
A good sign that you do too much diving is when you have a wet suit washing in your bath and wake in the morning to find a wet suit in your shower. That was how it was for at least two days as I kicked the dreaded wet suit around the bottom of the bath each morning. At the very least I should have gotten into the thing and made sure that the zip was still working, but I just kept turning a blind eye to it…even though it seemed to smell pretty bad! I did wax the pathetic little plastic zipper in an idle moment but spent most of my time focusing on setting up new gear (BC and Reg) configurations for the dives.
On Friday night I loaded everything, including the kitchen sink, into my truck…..but for some reason excluded any of my other wet suits like the 5 mil or the 3 mil or any of the shorties that I have collected over the last few years. I was still in the ‘blind eye’ phase and the smelly 8/6mm was in a box in the bed of the truck – what could go wrong?
I awoke early on Saturday and set off on the 3.5 hour drive from Austin to Abilene; the dive briefing was at 10 so I was not under much pressure on the drive, just drifting along through the brown, dry, drought-decimated countryside of Texas. I passed through small rural towns with more churches than pubs. As I left one town, I read the sign outside the church. It read ‘Pray for rain, Pray for rain, Pray for rain…we need it.’ I read it out loud and drove on.
The sentiment was not lost on me given that all my diving is funded by my job which is now centered on agriculture in Texas, and this drought that we are suffering today is the worst in living memory.
I swear that I drove no more than two miles and the heavens opened! Rain, wind, lightning and I was forced to slow to a respectable 20 miles per hour as my windscreen wipers tried valiantly to keep up with the downpour. Beside me the fields seemed to instantly flood, and a river of water washed angrily down either side of the road. All I could think was ‘WOW…did I do that?’ and promised to re-investigate the power of prayer!
The rest of the drive was uneventful as I found my way to Abilene and then south on the 277 to the small gateway that was the entrance to the silo and dive site. I have discussed the history above, but I was still amazed and genuinely interested in the site tour that Josh from Family Scuba and Lauren, Dive Con from Tom’s Scuba, gave. Walking out over the doors that would have opened to allow the missile to be raised into the launching position and then down into the structure of the silo was truly a trip back to a time of mistrust, misunderstanding, and a fear of future destruction…the nuclear apocalypse. Nowhere did that come home more than in the command/ launch control room.
Today that room is a big open space with a huge barbell shaped pillar/column in the middle. Back in the day the metal, doughnut shaped control room was suspended around that column. Why suspended on chains and hydraulic rams? -- Because the bunker was designed to survive a ‘near nuclear strike’ and still be able to launch the missile.
The suspended control room would be protected from the earth shaking impact of the Russian bombs long enough to launch the missile and assure that there was mutual destruction. Interesting, in his later life Cousteau advocated swapping children between Russia and America, because ‘we would not fire on our own children;’ the idea did not gain much international acceptance or credibility. I have to wonder what the guys in the control room would have done after the initial high fives and woohoos from the launch of their missile despite the thud of Russian warheads landing and exploding all round them….I hope that they had a really good food supply and a couple of Playboy’s to get them through!
I was enthralled by the blast doors that could be used to seal off every level in the silo. As we spiraled down into the silo, we found that there was the open space where the control room was, separated from the silo itself by a passage with, yes, more blast doors. At the end of the passage we looked out into the silo itself, its smooth concrete walls with remnants of fueling ports and the seats for the huge hydraulic arms that opened the silo doors. Looking down there was a set of steps that led down about 40 feet to the water and a nice square dive platform painted with a dive flag.
I have to say that the whole place was actually kind of spooky! And looking down from the opening high up in the silo, I tried to imagine what it would have been like with all of the catwalks and equipment surrounding the deadly missile that was just sitting there being pandered to in this $15 million (in 1960) silo – like a very rich man getting his nails done by a team of high tech manicurists. But it WAS still eerie.
I carried all my gear down into the changing area and sat listening attentively to Lauren’s and Josh’s dive briefing. It was nice to relax, there was no…’Pool is open, jump in 5 minutes;’ it was up to us to set our own pace for the dives. I actually sat and took in the space and went on another quiet walk about, just getting a feel for the place……..and quite clearly, although subconsciously, - to avoid putting that 8/6mm wet suit on! But eventually I plucked up courage, circled back around, and pounced on the dreaded wet suit from behind.
I managed to wrestle myself into it and started to zip it up. As the zipper puller moved across my chest it momentarily closed the plastic zip in its wake, however, the zipper just peeled itself open again after the zipper puller had gone by. I took the whole suit off, returned the zipper puller to its original position, climbed into the suit and tried again, but the result was the same. I got help to get out of the bear-hugging suit after my second failed attempt to zip myself in, and as I did so, I considered a number of things/options that were going through my mind:
- Why did I not try the suit on in the shower on any one of the days that it was laying there looking at me from the bottom of the bath?
- Why did I not pack all my other wet suits just in case?
- I must look like a complete idiot to the people in the group – there goes my ego again! I am sure that I represent myself as an expert with all my gear, my camera, etc. and now I look like a complete amateur…be steady ego of mine!
What are my options?
- Sulk…and stomp about while finding verbal justifications to cover the embarrassment that my ego was feeling.
- Take a drive to give myself some space to think about the problem, grab a diet Coke from a gas station, return with a solution and pretend that nothing happened.
- Turn into the whiny, sulky little child that is in me, just below the skin layer and always fighting to get out or…..
- Not allow my ego to get the better of me and to take the time to see what I can do to help other people get in the water and wait for the solution to unfold.
I actually did a little of everything. I whined and tried to justify my equipment issues to anybody that would listen. I always think of my ego as being just like Stewie, the baby with the English accent in the ‘Family Guy’ TV show. It is childlike in its ability to process the things that are happening to me and evil in its ability to manipulate what I say and do and how I act!
So, I vacated the place with my ego close behind me kicking rocks and looking for snakes and drove to a gas station and bought a diet Coke. During the ‘windshield time’ between the silo and the gas station, I called Kirk at Tom’s and asked if he could bring me a wet suit from the shop. He said “Sure,” but also informed me that it would be about 7 pm that night before he got there. With a large diet Coke in my coffee cup holder, with the whining done, and with a solution to my wet suit in hand, I headed back to the dive site and proceeded to take the time to meet everybody, take some pics and help where I could.
AND this is where the ‘people part’ of the diving experience kicked in and the reason why people are such an important part of the overall dive experience/trip. First, Josh from Family Scuba offered me his suit. Given that he was a couple of inches shorter than me, I declined the offer but there he was, wanting to help me to dive and enjoy my experience at Valhalla. (Maybe the team at Bonne Terre could take note of this). Then, not 30 minutes later, one of the guys, Matt, from Tom’s, who happened to be the same height (but not quite the same girth as me) offered me his suit, but only after he had stood solemnly before me and stated before GOD AND MAN that he had ‘not peed in it….today.’
I gratefully accepted the suit, geared up, and jumped in the water with Lauren’s friend Scott. I had no idea what to expect as I let the air escape from my BC and slid gently under the water. I stopped about 10 feet below the dive platform and checked my camera, dive computers, and a quick run over my gear before gently descending through the darkness, following the yellow descent line to……something!
I love the descent, feeling the effects of the pressure on my ears and sinuses and the gentle wooziness that comes over you as you drift from 60 to 70, to 90 to 100 feet. At the bottom of the line and hovering over a large piece of catwalk, I checked my gauges, camera, brain and gear and then started to move slowly through the ‘pick a stick’ mess of pipe, metal catwalk and other undefined pieces of metal that form a false bottom over 30 feet above the real one.
Dives to over 100 feet are necessarily short if you are not planning full decompression dives, and to be honest, I was happy to limit my time of the first dive to give me more stuff to explore on the second and third dives. On the way up, we circled slowly round the wall like tigers that have been in a zoo too long tend to do until we reached the inertial navigation systems room. At about 60 feet, this was a structure that protruded from the hardened concrete wall like an old tin shack purchased on the side of a cliff. It provided a great structure to explore with a roof, doorway, and steps. I know that we stopped here on every dive before turning back towards the center of the silo and with one good kick, arriving at the down line for our safety stop.
With the stop done, I surfaced, elated that I had gotten to dive Valhalla. Nothing mattered now, no worry about when a wet suit might appear, even my ego had gone off to play on the swings with the kids next door. I peeled off the borrowed wet suit and hung it up; I went and found Matt and told him that his suit still had not been peed in!
Above ground Scott was working on an advanced class so I sat and listened, offering to share some of the additional food that I had and enjoying the warmth of the sun on my cold skin. While chatting with Scott, Matt, and the others, the story of my wet suit issues reached the ears (and brain) of Scott who told me that he had a spare wet suit with him and that I could use his (as yet un-peed in) shop suit that he had brought with him. Suddenly, thanks to the kindness and support of others, I was back in business. Little Stewie climbed up and looked over the neighbor’s fence at me and realizing that he was going to get no pandering or pampering from me, he invited himself to dinner with the kids next door!
With a suitable surface interval, I threw myself back into a suit and climbed back down the stairs to the dive platform and got ready to hop in again. This time I planned to jump in with the first group and exit with the second to make sure that I got a good dive in. I took plenty of time to take shots of the wreckage and occasionally other divers, and again, after a trip to the navigation room, I surfaced a happy man. Climbing back up the steps from the dive platform to the hole in the wall which is the passage to the old command room/changing area is really the best time to marvel at the solid smooth wall of the silo. Down closer to the water there are a number of stainless steel, flanged, pipes sticking out of the wall; these were almost certainly ports for transferring rocket fuel to the missile prior to its launch.
Looking up, lights are hung from large structures that back in 1962 supported the entire missile launch structure. As Mark Hannifin explained it to me, the missile and all the supporting structures were hung on a three story long coil so that, like the control room, the missile would be protected from the shock of a near hit and still be able to launch. The launch doors were opened using hydraulic arms and the missile would be raised to the surface for launching.
Once at the top of the stairs, it is a short walk through the passage to the changing area – but each time I walked it I marveled at the size of the blast doors and wondered what it must have been like in there when the rocket was sitting there ready to launch and we were worrying about what the Russians would do next.
I took off my wet suit and hung it in the passage between the silo and the changing area and headed out of the subterranean world to the earth’s surface. The whole area around the launch doors and entrance to the silo, with the exception of the parking area, has been taken over by mesquite trees and rough, tufted grass, but you can still see the foundation for the above ground control rooms and quarters for the men stationed here and charged with the responsibility of launching a missile that would either start a futile war or end it with the short lived satisfaction that mutual destruction had been achieved.
One of the striking features of the site is the fact that it is over shadowed by the slow turning propellers of wind-powered electrical generators. Don’t get me wrong, I am all for alternative energy sources, but I have to wonder whether these structures that are in many ways eyesores on the countryside will ever generate enough power to pay off the carbon cost of producing, shipping, and erecting them. I am old fashioned (or brainwashed while working in that industry), but even after the issues in Long Island, Chernobyl and more recently in Japan, I am still a supporter of nuclear power as our alternative to coal and oil fired power generation plants, and hydrogen as an alternative to gas in cars or turning good food production land into ethanol production.
But hush my mouth, I am in Texas and I could probably throw a stone and hit one of those slow nodding donkey pumps that are gently pulling oils to the surface and quietly subsidizing some lucky farmer’s income in this time of terrible and unprecedented drought in Texas. In the meantime, I sit back in my folding chair, throw my feet up on my ice chest, and watch the slow turning of the wind generators in the orange glow of the setting sun, engaging in conversation with the people that are sitting around me chatting about diving and the weather. I have a little nitrogen buzz going, and I really cannot imagine any better place to be at this time.
The peace was gently ruffled by the sound of tires on loose gravel, and the general agreement amongst the assembled group that Kirk had arrived. Four hours ago the arrival of Kirk was my key to diving; now it was a happy meet and greet. Such is my brain! Kirk’s arrival also meant another dive was going to start soon! I introduced myself and was greeted warmly and enthusiastically by Kirk and his group….I love diving!
After the tour and the Lauren/Josh briefing, the new arrivals were ready to dive. I felt like an experienced hand at the site because I had already done two dives. In emails earlier in the week, Kirk had explained to me that this was the first, exploratory trip for the shop to see if they wanted to start publicizing more trips so everybody was diving there for the first time. The thing about diving a 60 ft wide, 110 foot deep tube is that you can get the lay of the land in a single dive, feel like you know where you are going on the second dive, and consider yourself a veteran on the third dive…BUT I never got bored!!
We geared up and actually hit the water at 9.35 pm; the dive only lasted 27 minutes but it was 11 pm before we packed up and left the site and allowed Josh and Steph to lock the place up and head home. Lauren and her friends turned up at the site on Friday night at 11 pm but wanted to dive so that they could act as dive leaders for the next day so Josh stayed and did a dive with them at 1 am on Saturday morning. We all arrived at 9.30 on Saturday morning and Josh was there until we left at 11 pm. Thank you Josh! Thank you for remaining happy and enthusiastic and never looking at your watch.
Food is always the first thought on surfacing, especially from cold water dives so it was not long before 8 of us were looking for a place to eat at midnight in Abilene and ihop became our target. WOW, ihops are busy places at midnight in rural towns, even down to a police presence, but we ate, told dive lies and talked about the day’s diving before heading back to the Super 8 for some rest.
Margo helps me with all my work and dive travel plans and loves booking me up for my ‘dive’ hotels which are not the normal Hilton brand places that I stay at when I am travelling for work. She researches cheap, but hopefully not too horrible places to stay, but I think that she secretly hopes that there will be a cockroach or bed bug story to add to the diving adventure. But, the last two Super 8’s that I have stayed in have actually been very good; clean and well organized. I drifted off to sleep with memories of the day’s diving and the glow of the LED’s from all manner of batteries that were charging in my room – I hoped that those wind generators were turning a little faster that night!
The morning brought an 8 am leave from the hotel and the 20 minute dive to the site. As I pulled up to park, I saw Josh and Steph waiting for us, smiling as always. The guys had stated that they only wanted to do one dive, but I wanted to do two, so Josh, in return for some pictures of him in the wreckage, put his suit on and took the first dive with me. We dropped down the line and I had fun working with a human model for the first time – I normally stick to taking pictures of critters, because they do not have any expectation of the quality of the pictures that I take of them. However, with the exception of a rogue strobe that was slightly out of sync with the other, the pictures turned out pretty well.
I hit the surface and just had time for an hour’s surface interval before following Kirk and the team down the ladder and back into the water. Imagine my surprise as I circled up to the inertial navigation room to find the happy Scuba Buddha sitting in the room waiting for me – he is back! The last that we saw of him was on Disappointment Cleaver at close to 13,000 feet on Mount Rainier. I had planned to get a picture of him on the edge of the cleaver looking out over the rest of the mountain range, but after edging to the end of the rocky outcrop and placing him for the picture, I turned round to find that he was gone! How could he be alive? How could he be here in the silo? Well, DUH, he is a Buddha!!
I hung about under the steps to the dive platform blowing air rings and watching the other divers exit and start walking up the steps. I really did not want to surface; I could have stayed there for another 40 minutes surrounded by water, floating weightlessly at 20 feet, looking at the lights, listening to my gentle rhythmic breathing. This may have had something to do with the fact that I was breathing a 50% oxygen mix or the fact that I just love to be underwater, but I knew that I did have to surface and carry all the gear that I had brought down into the silo back out again!
I would love to have put another dive or two in, but it was time to pack up and leave with the others. I am still trying to work out why I never got bored with the place, either above or below the ground or below the surface of the water, and I am looking forward to going back as soon as the nuclear warheads align and I can. The thing that I really like about the place and the set up for diving is that it is not over commercialized. A group can rent the whole facility for a weekend and just have fun, dive at your own speed, and dive as many times as you want. There is a warm shower and a flushing toilet with the words ‘everybody can hear every sound you make’ written on the back of the door at eye level when you are sitting. Next time I will bring BBQ equipment and have a good old cook out!
The last thing to do was to buy shirts from Josh. There is a tradition that you must sign and date your shirt, and Josh has pens there to allow you to do that. With the shirts purchased and the gear loaded, I headed back to Austin in good time with happy memories of good people, an interesting place, and fun diving. My thanks to the gang at Tom’s Dive and Swim in Austin and Family Scuba in Midland.
Dive stats:
8/13/11
Dive 1 - 106 feet for 26 minutes
Dive 2 – 107 feet for 49 minutes
Dive 3 - 104 feet for 27 minutes
8/14/11
Dive 1 – 107 feet for 31 minutes
Dive 2 – 52 feet for 30 minutes
