r before seen.
In 1999, the pair set upon the SS Tahoe as the goal that would not only allow them to test diving’s technical aspects, but would also draw attention and funding to their effort. McClellan established the nonprofit New Millennium Dive Expeditions and began raising funds sufficient to back a complex and equipment-needy project.
“This was intense. We simply wanted a solid and measurable reason to conduct decompression diving at altitude and test our computer theory models,” McClellan says. “But as we got deeper into the initial stages of this project and realized the SS Tahoe was in 350 to 490 feet of water, it became very apparent that we needed funding, and lots of it, to accomplish this very incredible goal.”
Along with money, the growing team of divers needed to iron out one fairly important detail: the precise location of the SS Tahoe.
“There is no way a dive team is going to go out to Glenbrook Bay, take some sort of depth reading or GPS coordinates, enter the water and drop down onto the SS Tahoe,” says McClellan. “We needed to find her, mark her location and establish dive infrastructure that would allow us to drop directly upon the ship without any sort of uncertainty.”
Lockheed Martin Perry Technologies, a California-based company interested in developing Remote Operated Vehicles, contacted McClellan. The company’s research and development team needed some experience in freshwater operations so they assisted McClellan and his team in locating and placing a permanent GPS marker on the location.
After three years of preparation—which included tackling the complexities of SCUBA diving in a high-altitude lake—and assembling a competent team prepared to carry out various functions associated with such unprecedented dive conditions, McClellan and Morris steeled themselves for the initial foray down into the wreckage.
On June 29, 2002, nearly 62 years after the SS Tahoe was scuttled, the two men descended into Glenwood Bay with an admixture of excitement and a great deal of nervousness about whether the dive was possible or safe.
“I had over three years of effort, lots of money invested and probably 1,500 hours of personal time dedicated to this endeavor and, really, all I wanted to do was dive,” McClellan says. “Once all the activities were complete and our divemaster gave us the ‘gear-up’ command, I was like a five-year-old going to a candy store.”
At around 10 a.m., McClellan and Morris dove into the Big Blue, slowly descending through The Lake’s layers until the sunken vessel came into view.
“It took about 5 to 7 minutes to descend from the surface to the bow,” McClellan says. “Everything went silent. A state of immense pride set in, a reverence for what we were seeing began to seep into my thoughts. My diving and filming were all muscle memory; I just enjoyed the 10 to 20 minutes on that ship and absolutely hated to leave her.”
The ship is “in great shape,” McClellan says.
Still intact, with its aft air funnels warped from the impact with the floor upon sinking and the subsequent slide down the Glenbrook shelf, and the roof, cabin and pilothouse gone, the boat still retains many features apparent from historic photos.
The boilerstack is standing and the boat tilts only slightly to its port side.
Treasure hunters who found the wreckage in the 1960s and used a grappling hook and a pulley system to salvage collectible pieces of the ship caused minor damage.
“You can also see gouges and chunks of wood removed from the teakwood rails,” McClellan says. “But aside from that, the violent event the SS Tahoe encountered on the night of August 29, 1940, and the early morning hours of August 30, 1940, has been overcome by her as she sits proudly on Tahoe’s bottom.”
The dive would be the first of many trips to the bottom of Glenbrook Bay (a total of four in 2002). McClellan would not only set a record for the depth of a high-altitude dive, but would draw the interest of the Nevada State Preservation Office, which would go on to name the SS Tahoe as the first maritime site in the Silver State to be listed in the Na