Point
Sur is 600 feet of tough rock facing Pacific rollers that come 6,000 miles to
pound the central California coast. Like the 19th-century lighthouse that marks
the Point, the now-derelict compound of the former Naval Facility Point Sur evokes another era.
And it evokes a mystery — one involving secret
underground naval bases, high-tech submarines and Cold War nuclear
brinkmanship.
As late as the 1960s, Navy technicians and their families
at Point Sur monitored undersea listening posts used to track Soviet subs.
According to one legend, it wasn’t merely hydrophones the Navy ran from Point
Sur, but submarines themselves based in giant man-made caverns dug into the
rock.
There is something mythic and compelling about seashore
scarps and naval bases — something drawing on archetypal imagery of treasure
concealed in cave waters open to the sea. The ultimate supervillain’s lair,
after all, is an island base with undersea access.
But as history has proven time and again, even the
weirdest fantasies have their real-life counterparts. And those who dive for
Atlantean gold sometimes surface with treasure. There really were — and
are — some strange ideas deep down in the sea.
By 1966 the two surges into outer space and “inner space”
were at their flood tide. While NASA gathered ever more momentum with monthly
Gemini flights and a new Mission Control, the success of Sealab
II and the CONSHELF III underwater habitat
led to a presidential commission on oceanography and a bigger undersea
commitment.
The Navy’s efforts to recover a lost hydrogen bomb off
the coast of Spain that year and the loss of the attack sub USS Thresher three
years before had brought new funding and discipline to deep submergence
systems. In such heady times, dreams of colonizing the continental shelf within
a generation seemed like sober predictions.
It was in this environment that C.F. Austin of the China
Lake Naval Ordnance Test Station proposed the Rock-Site concept:
manned undersea installations excavated into the rock of the seafloor. By
applying well-understood principles employed for decades by the mining
industry, Austin proposed that large bases could be constructed and operated
anywhere suitable bedrock occurred in the ocean, at any depth.
Austin realized that even with mid-1960's technology, it
would be possible to sink a wide shaft into the sea floor, seal and drain it,
then use it as a staging area for further excavation. A tunnel-boring machine
could be lowered into the shaft in pieces and then assembled to bore out more
tunnels, including one for a small modular nuclear reactor much like those used
at Camp Century in Greenland and McMurdo Base in Antarctica.
There’s very little hype in Austin’s report; the bulk of
it is taken up with documentation of tunneling methods and mining operations
conducted under the sea floor. These often follow seams and drifts underground
as they continue offshore.
According to Austin, one Nova Scotia mine, Dominion
Coal’s Cape Breton operation, consisted of “a complex of many consolidated
undersea mines ranging in depth from 200 to 2,700 feet below the sea floor,
with a water cover of 60 to 100 feet. These mines span an area of approximately
75 square miles and presently employ some 4,100 men in the undersea workings.”
Among the benefits of Rock-Site, Austin noted its
immunity to weather and currents, its shirt-sleeve environment and its (very)
controlled access. And Austin was not thinking small. “Structures within the
sea floor can easily be made large and comfortable enough to permit the
quartering of crews and their families for extended periods of time,” he wrote,
“and can be made large enough to serve as supply and repair depots for large
submersibles.”
Recent research on
hardened missile basing concepts have proven various techniques for creating
submarine-sized structures in hard substrates. The Air Force’s development of
underground silos, subways and central commands produced real-world hardware
and experience with construction techniques.
In the 1970s the Los Alamos National Lab investigated an
atomic rock-drilling concept called the Nuclear Subterrene, which like
Rock-Site sounds like something out of Johnny Quest, but also really happened.
One wonders what might have happened had the Navy put its nuclear expertise to
work drilling holes in the ocean floor.
The Rock-Site concept also bore much in common with
NASA’s designs for underground moon bases. Very likely all three
concepts — invulnerable bastions, space outposts and ocean bases — would have
shared solutions to issues ranging from environmental control to crew morale.
Austin foresaw that Rock-Site bases could be ideal for
industrial uses such as fossil-fuel production and deep-sea mining. In the
decades since Austin’s study, industry has created the tools need to realize
his vision. Though it’s not atomic-powered, the world’s largest tunnel-boring
machine is about to drill a two-mile-long tunnel beneath Seattle
wide enough to hold an Ohio-class sub.
One enterprising firm servicing the offshore renewables
industry has designed a remote drilling rig for planting monopile anchors on
the seafloor, while others are developing entire subsea electrical grids.
Consider a physically secure data center, with free cooling, in an industrial
park beneath the sea …
Did the Navy ever actually pursue the Rock-Site concept
at Point Sur or elsewhere? A 1971 study
discussed various methods of sea-floor excavation, but by then most
man-in-the-sea development was classified. In the absence of information
fantasy takes wing — er, fin — but nearly 50 years later C.F. Austin’s dream
remains both sober and dazzlingly novel.
This first appeared in WarIsBoring Steve Weintz The National
Interest
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