With the one-year anniversary of going into business for myself imminent, my dad asked me point-blank: "So! When are we going to take off to go scuba diving in Missouri?"
If you have read and re-read the above statement, do not stress! I fully appreciate that the Show-Me state is typically not the first destination for a weekend of scuba diving. Well, my friends join me now as I introduce you to Bonne Terre, Missouri; home of the 'Billion Gallon Lake.'
In 1870, in Bonne Terre, a lead mine was started. As Sally, our tour guide, explained the process to me imagine a vertical shaft going down 500 feet into the earth. Rock was excavated in the rough shape of an inverted 5-tier pyramid, so that the lowest level (level 5) is the smallest, level 4 is slightly larger, and so forth, all the way to the first level, which is just below the surface of the earth. These levels prove to be intimidating in their sheer size - the first level alone covers over 70 square miles!
In order to prevent a cave-in, the miners left huge stone pillars in each of the rooms in which they worked, to support the weight of the ceiling. This is called the Room and Pillar method, and on each level of the mine, a stone pillar stands directly above and below the corresponding pillar in the next level.
By 1961, poor economic conditions coupled with geological evidence that the mine had run dry led to the closure of the Bonne Terre Mine. Literally, the water pumps were shut off and spring water slowly filled the caverns. But, everything was left just as it was. Picks, shovels, and drills all littered the mine floor. Old rail carts, tracks, buildings, and even a locomotive were left behind and eventually submerged. Finally, in 1981, the mine was developed for scuba dive tours.
Bonne Terre Mine has attracted more than just my dad and me. It has recently been featured on the History Channel's 'Weird US' series, and is listed by National Geographic as one of the 'Top 100 Greatest American Adventures.' Since the diving is underground, the water remains at a yearlong temperature of 58 degrees. Clearly, this was the perfect February destination.
In order to get to the water at Bonne Terre we actually had to trek underground. In every sense, this felt like a natural cave! Water dripped from the ceiling, and mineral deposits left visible stains on the rock. We reached the dive site and suited up, checking and re-checking our gear. Standing on the dock, getting ready to jump in, I was astounded by the clarity of the water. Visibility here is over 100 feet, phenomenal for an inland dive site! Holding my mask, regulator, and dive computer, I goose-stepped into the 58-degree water, my dad close behind.
Without question, Bonne Terre was one of the most unique and enjoyable dives I have ever made. Following our guide, the group descended. Since the dive is completely underground, all light is artificial. Over 500,000 watts of lighting illuminate the depths, and our guide's powerful flashlight beam plays off rock walls, pillars, and the ghostly remnants of the mine's past. As we swim along, the depth of the mine is revealed: Suddenly the bottom drops off like the continental shelf, and we hang suspended in an unending bluish void, which is broken only by the rough vertical pillars. These structures, omnipresent throughout, give the dive an eerie, spooky sense of immense abandonment.
As we continue our dive we enter another room, accessible only by squeezing through a cabinet-sized access hole. This is where the miners used to take a break, and an old bench is still propped against one wall. Eerily, remnants of a vintage magazine from the mine's active days can still be seen beneath the bench.
As our dive draws to a close, we swim past a staircase. This was the original entryway for the miners - they used to trudge down these very steps to the time clock, to punch in for work. At this point I notice something else - 58 degrees is cold! We've been underwater for nearly 50 minutes, although it does not seem like that long. My array of full gear, which consists of a hood, gloves, boots, and a 7-millimeter suit, can only inhibit the chill for so long. Thus, I was more than a little glad to pull myself from the cool water.
As Dad and I giddily removed our tanks and BCD, we talked about the 'coolness' of the dive, in more ways than one. We turned to a group of Canadian divers who had accompanied us, and inquired as to what they thought of the dive.
Their enthusiastic response included, "Heck that was great! We usually have to cut a hole in the ice in order to go diving - this was warm!" With 24 unique dive trails to choose from, Dad and I will definitely be back.
- Dan Wegmueller is a columnist for The Monroe Times. He can be reached at dwegs@tds.net.
If you have read and re-read the above statement, do not stress! I fully appreciate that the Show-Me state is typically not the first destination for a weekend of scuba diving. Well, my friends join me now as I introduce you to Bonne Terre, Missouri; home of the 'Billion Gallon Lake.'
In 1870, in Bonne Terre, a lead mine was started. As Sally, our tour guide, explained the process to me imagine a vertical shaft going down 500 feet into the earth. Rock was excavated in the rough shape of an inverted 5-tier pyramid, so that the lowest level (level 5) is the smallest, level 4 is slightly larger, and so forth, all the way to the first level, which is just below the surface of the earth. These levels prove to be intimidating in their sheer size - the first level alone covers over 70 square miles!
In order to prevent a cave-in, the miners left huge stone pillars in each of the rooms in which they worked, to support the weight of the ceiling. This is called the Room and Pillar method, and on each level of the mine, a stone pillar stands directly above and below the corresponding pillar in the next level.
By 1961, poor economic conditions coupled with geological evidence that the mine had run dry led to the closure of the Bonne Terre Mine. Literally, the water pumps were shut off and spring water slowly filled the caverns. But, everything was left just as it was. Picks, shovels, and drills all littered the mine floor. Old rail carts, tracks, buildings, and even a locomotive were left behind and eventually submerged. Finally, in 1981, the mine was developed for scuba dive tours.
Bonne Terre Mine has attracted more than just my dad and me. It has recently been featured on the History Channel's 'Weird US' series, and is listed by National Geographic as one of the 'Top 100 Greatest American Adventures.' Since the diving is underground, the water remains at a yearlong temperature of 58 degrees. Clearly, this was the perfect February destination.
In order to get to the water at Bonne Terre we actually had to trek underground. In every sense, this felt like a natural cave! Water dripped from the ceiling, and mineral deposits left visible stains on the rock. We reached the dive site and suited up, checking and re-checking our gear. Standing on the dock, getting ready to jump in, I was astounded by the clarity of the water. Visibility here is over 100 feet, phenomenal for an inland dive site! Holding my mask, regulator, and dive computer, I goose-stepped into the 58-degree water, my dad close behind.
Without question, Bonne Terre was one of the most unique and enjoyable dives I have ever made. Following our guide, the group descended. Since the dive is completely underground, all light is artificial. Over 500,000 watts of lighting illuminate the depths, and our guide's powerful flashlight beam plays off rock walls, pillars, and the ghostly remnants of the mine's past. As we swim along, the depth of the mine is revealed: Suddenly the bottom drops off like the continental shelf, and we hang suspended in an unending bluish void, which is broken only by the rough vertical pillars. These structures, omnipresent throughout, give the dive an eerie, spooky sense of immense abandonment.
As we continue our dive we enter another room, accessible only by squeezing through a cabinet-sized access hole. This is where the miners used to take a break, and an old bench is still propped against one wall. Eerily, remnants of a vintage magazine from the mine's active days can still be seen beneath the bench.
As our dive draws to a close, we swim past a staircase. This was the original entryway for the miners - they used to trudge down these very steps to the time clock, to punch in for work. At this point I notice something else - 58 degrees is cold! We've been underwater for nearly 50 minutes, although it does not seem like that long. My array of full gear, which consists of a hood, gloves, boots, and a 7-millimeter suit, can only inhibit the chill for so long. Thus, I was more than a little glad to pull myself from the cool water.
As Dad and I giddily removed our tanks and BCD, we talked about the 'coolness' of the dive, in more ways than one. We turned to a group of Canadian divers who had accompanied us, and inquired as to what they thought of the dive.
Their enthusiastic response included, "Heck that was great! We usually have to cut a hole in the ice in order to go diving - this was warm!" With 24 unique dive trails to choose from, Dad and I will definitely be back.
- Dan Wegmueller is a columnist for The Monroe Times. He can be reached at dwegs@tds.net.
