Today there was a sediment trap deployment, and it was exciting and there was heavy equipment and everything was cool and all, but much more exciting: a Laysan albatross, the first albatross of the trip, kept flying by. So Chris and I were watching the albatross and agreeing, yeah, you could take a picture, but then you just have to say, “trust me, it’s really big.” And I said, you’d have to get it next to a gull (although they’re actually pretty big, too, so it wouldn’t give you the full effect).
Then, 15 minutes later, the sediment trap is out there with its giant orange buoys. And then we’re like, hey, wait, that’s the albatross sitting next to it. And then a gull lands next to it. Thanks, buddy!
Ok, my picture only has the albatross in it. But take my word for it: that’s a big bird. This actually rises above my usual wildlife pictures, which are of the “see that speck? that’s a [thing]” variety. You can actually tell this is an albatross – see that giant beak? That beak is alllll albatross.
The track for this cruise is to follow about four big long lines that go from shallow water near land out to deep water – which also means from ice to no ice. We’re heading away from mainland Alaska on one of these lines now, so we’ll probably get to the ice edge later today or overnight. So the ice kinda looks like this now:
It’s in broken pieces – the big one in this picture might be eight or 10 feet across – with little refrozen bits in between. It was really, really windy yesterday, gusting up to 50 knots (which is nautical miles per hour, and if I had a unit converter on this computer I’d tell you what that meant, but just believe me: high winds).
In the ice, it’s usually really calm, but last night there was a pretty big swell moving through the ice. It’s really wild to watch that. I’m used to thinking of the sea ice as flat and kind of like land, so when the ice is moving up and down, it’s a little disorienting. That’s probably how the ice in this picture got broken.
Today’s post is our 20th – the halfway point! As we head in and out of the ice edge, the science should change, so we’re not worried about having enough to write about. We’re more worried about forgetting to do some of the stories we’d planned.
You may have seen in our Easter post that little chicks appeared around the lab. They’re still there, and they’re really kind of hilarious. This one is on the mechanism that moves the oxygen sensor that the multicorer team uses to measure oxygen in the mud.
Because I *know* you just can’t get enough of me, here’s something else I’m writing while I’m out here: blog posts for Scientific American. Chris the photographer made some arrangement with an editor there to write five pieces for them, one a week. But then a week and a half ago, when it came time for him to actually sit down and write the first one, he remembered that writing isn’t really his thing and asked me to do it. (I agreed that this was a much smarter division of labor.) Chris is still writing for some photo sites, like this one, while we’re out here.
Hi! Look, I’m blogging directly! The internet on the ship seems to be slightly faster than usual tonight, and I’m hoping Chris will get back to me about the dispatch I just shipped him, so I figured I’d pick up a magazine and put WordPress through its paces. ‘Cause faster than usual means that it will only take, like, 10 minutes to post this instead of the usual never.
Anyway, a big thank you to Cheryl for doing my blog posting while I’m gone – I send her e-mail from the ship and she posts it. Because she is awesome. And I’d also like to take this opportunity to beg shamelessly for e-mail. I’m having a truly great time and this ship is amazing and I can’t believe my luck and this is basically the coolest job of all time, but I also miss you guys and if you wanted to, say, send me an e-mail saying hi and sharing news every now and then, that would make me really happy. If you send an e-mail to my gmail address you’ll get a bounce thing telling you how to reach me.
Oh, and Jason, you’re totally right that I should talk to engineers and stuff for the dispatches, and I definitely plan to – it’s just taking me a while to figure out who’s who on the Coast Guard side, and in the meantime there’s a lot of science to write about. We got a tour of the engineering spaces of the ship today (Saturday), so watch this space.
This has been the week of “oh, *that’s* why they do that.”
On Thursday, we were getting all set to go out on the ice when a big old crack appeared under the feet of the Coasties who were checking it for safety. (Conclusion: Not, in fact, safe.) There was water, there was crackage, there was a heroic rescue of equipment. Lesson: Oh, *that’s* why we have to wear those very awkward dry suits when we go out on the ice.
This morning at 3:23 loud alarms went off (bing! bing! bing!) and the loud voice said “Major fuel oil leak in the #1 diesel engine” and also “all hands report to general emergency billet” which, my roommates helpfully explained, means to go to the science conference lounge so you can be accounted for. So we went to the lounge and sat while they worked on it. I think “major” has a broad definition and that this was an easy leak to fix, judging by the fact that we were back in our beds an hour later. Lesson: Oh, *that’s* why they do fire drills.
Today’s dispatch has three, count them THREE, pictures of me. I’m labeled in two of them. I learned from the other one that my hat makes my head look really pointy. It’s super warm, though, so fashion be damned.
Also, I had to use up the caption on picture #7 explaining science, not defending my fashion choices, so I would just like to say here that the fanny pack is the best way to hold my notebook while I’m working on the ice or on deck – when someone says something funny, I can pull off my giant warm mitten and grab my notebook out of the pack.
I know I haven’t blogged much lately – my excuse is that I’ve been really amazingly tired. I don’t know if it’s the motion of the ship, or the seasickness medication, or going off the seasickness medication, or some kind of moral flaw, but I just want to sleep allll the tiiiiime. Unfortunately, this is inconsistent with doing anything but working. Fortunately, Chris is patient and will let me go to sleep with my head on the table for 20 minutes while he sorts through the pictures of the day. Although he is not above taking a picture of me while I’m passed out.
Tonight I was watching some scientists take water from the CTD (this sentence explained here) and I said something about how I couldn’t actually explain some concept to them, but wait til I write it down, ’cause when I write, I’m on fire. Then a little while later I was yawning extravagantly while they worked, which I’m doing a lot of these days. And distinguished oceanographer Ned Cokelet said, “That’s the sound of Helen on fire. It may sound like a yawn, but to her, it’s a primal scream.”
Well, it made me laugh.
Look how pretty the sunset was last night.
It’s just so beautiful out here. Something the chief scientist, Carin Ashjian, said when I interviewed her in January keeps coming back to me: “The most memorable thing about being on an ice breaker is seeing the ice and breaking the ice…It’s like nothing you have ever seen before and you hope that you always get to see it.” It’s so true. Ice is just amazing, and it changes all the time. I still have almost four weeks of this to go, and it’s already kind of sad to think that I’ll probably never see it again after that.
On the other hand, getting back home will be nice. People on the ship are friendly, and I *love* the work I’m doing, and Chris and I work really well together, but it’s not quite the same as being surrounded by my people. I miss you!
I worried a lot before we started about how my work would go over with the people I’m writing about. I knew everyone on the ship would be following along, and sometimes people can be sensitive, and I know if they get mad at me about something I wrote, we’re stuck in the same 420-foot-long space until May 12.
But so far they seem pretty happy. I learned that one of the scientists has been quoting me whenever anyone wonders when something is going to happen: “Science is not all fast-paced action.” (From the last picture of day 3.) And the other day I overheard some of the coast guard guys on the bridge making fun of each other for the stuff I’d quoted them saying. They both still seem to be willing to talk to me, so I think we’re all good.
I quoted one of them again, actually – check out the latest dispatch. Hey. It’s not my fault Jim Merten talks a lot. Yknow, there are 80 crew members on the ship, but I run into the same ones all the time. For a while it seemed like everyone on the ship must be either a boatswain’s mate (pronounced “bosunmate”) or a marine science technician. But those are just the people who interact with the scientists the most. There are probably people who work in the engine room who I’ve never seen.
