The water was like a mirror.
Honestly, that was the problem. On July 21, 1948, the crew of a massive B-29 Superfortress looked out their windows at the Overton Arm of Lake Mead and saw a perfect reflection of the sky. No waves. No whitecaps. Just a blue void that made it impossible to tell where the air ended and the water began.
Captain Robert M. Madison thought he was at 400 feet. He was wrong. He was basically skimming the surface at 230 miles per hour.
When the metal hit the water, it wasn't a splash; it was a demolition. Three of the plane’s four massive engines were ripped clean off the wings. The bomber skipped across the lake like a flat stone for nearly a mile before finally settling into the depths. All five men on board managed to crawl out onto life rafts, watching in silence as their "Flying Laboratory" vanished into the dark Nevada water.
For 53 years, it stayed lost. People forgot it was even there. Then, in 2001, a local diver named Gregg Mikolasek used side-scan sonar to find the ghost. Today, the B-29 in Lake Mead is one of the most protected—and coveted—dive sites in the world.
The Secret Science of Project APOLLO
Most people think of the B-29 as the plane that dropped the atomic bombs. But the Lake Mead B-29 (Serial Number 45-21847) was different. It never saw combat. Instead, it was one of only three planes converted into a high-altitude flying lab for something called Project APOLLO.
This wasn't the moon mission. This was Cold War physics.
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The military was working on a secret ballistic missile guidance system known as the "Suntracker." Basically, they wanted missiles to navigate using the sun’s position, even from the upper atmosphere. To test this, the crew had to fly a very specific, grueling profile:
- Climb to 35,000 feet.
- Drop down to a mere 100 feet above the water.
- Record how the sun’s rays behaved at different altitudes and pressures.
It was boring, repetitive, and dangerous work. The day of the crash, they had already completed most of their data runs. They were on their final descent when the glassy water tricked the pilot's depth perception.
Why You Can't Just "Go See It"
The wreckage sits in a weird state of limbo. Because it’s inside a National Recreation Area, it belongs to the National Park Service (NPS). It’s also a "Cultural Resource," which is government-speak for "do not touch or we will arrest you."
For years, the B-29 was too deep for your average weekend warrior. It sat at over 260 feet. At that depth, you’re dealing with "the narc"—nitrogen narcosis—and you need specialized trimix gases to stay conscious and safe.
But then the drought happened.
As Lake Mead’s water levels plummeted over the last decade, the B-29 got "shallower." It didn't move; the ceiling just came down. At one point, the wreckage was sitting at roughly 110 feet. This changed everything. Suddenly, it was within reach of recreational divers, which terrified the Park Service. They were worried about looters or even well-meaning divers accidentally kicking the fragile aluminum fuselage.
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The Current Rules (2026 Update)
As of early 2026, you still can't just drive your boat over and hop in. The NPS uses a Commercial Use Authorization (CUA) system. This means only a few licensed dive operators, like Las Vegas Scuba, are allowed to take people down.
The requirements are stiff:
- Advanced Certification: You need at least an Advanced Open Water (AOW) cert.
- Nitrox: You have to be Nitrox certified to handle the bottom time.
- Buoyancy is King: If you touch the plane or stir up the silt, the guide will end your dive immediately. No refunds. No second chances. The silt in the Overton Arm is like fine powder; one bad kick and the visibility goes from 40 feet to zero for the next 24 hours.
What the Wreck Looks Like Now
If you're lucky enough to get a permit, the sight is haunting. David Conlin, the chief of the NPS Submerged Resources Center, once described it as looking like a "spaceship sitting on the bottom."
The plane is remarkably intact. Because it’s in cold, fresh water, the corrosion has been slow. You can see the cockpit glass, the remaining engine, and the "Suntracker" instrument still mounted where the scientists left it. The tail section is separated from the main body, lying a short distance away, a reminder of the violence of the 1948 impact.
One of the most striking things is the "quagga mussel" situation. These invasive little shells cover almost everything in Lake Mead now. They give the plane a fuzzy, organic texture that feels more like a shipwreck from the Caribbean than a desert bomber.
Misconceptions and Local Legends
You’ll hear plenty of rumors at the bars in Boulder City. Some people still insist the mission was about "aliens" or that the plane was carrying "gold."
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Neither is true.
The mission was purely about atmospheric research and missile guidance. Honestly, the real history is cooler than the conspiracy theories. You had Nobel Laureate Carl Anderson helping set up these experiments. These were the smartest guys in the room trying to figure out how to win the Cold War while flying in a tin can over the Mojave.
Another myth is that there are bodies inside. Nope. Everyone got out. 1st Lt. Paul Hesler, Staff Sgt. David Burns, and the rest of the crew were picked up by a National Park Service boat about six hours after the crash. The only injury was a broken arm.
How to Experience the History Without Diving
Not everyone wants to drop $450 and sink 100 feet into the dark. If you're a history nerd who prefers to stay dry, there are better ways to see the story of the B-29 in Lake Mead.
- The Boulder City Museum: They have a solid exhibit on the crash, including some artifacts and great photos from the original 2003 NPS survey.
- Virtual Tours: The NPS released high-definition 3D photogrammetry of the site. You can basically "fly" over the wreck on your computer screen. It shows the debris field in better detail than you'd see through a dive mask anyway.
- Echo Bay: You can launch a kayak or boat from Echo Bay and paddle over the general area. You won't see the plane from the surface—the water is too murky for that—but standing over the spot where it went down gives you a real sense of the scale of the Overton Arm.
The lake is rising again in 2026, which is great for the reservoir but means the B-29 is getting deeper once more. If you've been putting off a guided dive, the "easy" window might be closing as the water levels stabilize.
Actionable Steps for History Seekers
If you want to see the B-29, don't just show up at the lake with a tank. Start by checking the current Lake Mead water levels via the Bureau of Reclamation. If the lake is above 1,060 feet, the dive is moving back into "technical" territory. Next, contact a licensed CUA holder to see if they have any spots left in their monthly quota. Most importantly, if you do get down there, keep your fins up. That plane has been through enough.