Just when I was beginning to wonder why I’d renewed the domain for this blog…
T-minus 10 days until I head out to NASA’s Desert Research and Technology Studies (D-RATS). I’ll be helping with a 14-day mission on the Black Point Lava Flow in Arizona, testing the Lunar Electric Rover, which looks like this:
Check out the website for the 2009 Desert RATS field season. You’ll find links to the D-RATS Youtube channel, Twitter page, blog, and Flickr page.
I’ve just returned from Pavilion Lake (you can read updates from the entire research team here), coming full-circle after an adventure-filled year. Soon I’ll share with you more about my most recent time at Pavilion Lake, but first:
Today marks 40 years since the Apollo 11 lunar landing and mankind’s first footsteps outside of Earth.
Compared to many other creatures on Earth, we are fairly limited in our natural range of habitat. We can’t fly, we can’t breathe underwater, we don’t do so well in extreme temperatures. We are exceptional, though, in that we create technologies which allow us to explore elements beyond the land—technologies like rockets and boats.
In November, I sailed on a tall ship named after Robert C. Seamans, who, incidentally, was an important figure at NASA in the 1960s, and sat behind President Kennedy at his famous Rice University speech. What I grew to love about sailing on board the SSV Seamans was becoming a part of this technology that harnesses natural forces. We set the sails. We engage the engine. I have been asked a few times why people still bother with tall ships when technology has progressed so far beyond sails. We sail for the challenge, for the thrill, the accomplishment, or maybe simply because we want to go somewhere.
In any case, the ocean is there and we have something that floats. We went to the Moon for similar reasons in the 1960s. We have yet to go back, not exactly because we lack the technology, but because—some say—we haven’t been able to muster that spirit again. Should you meet the people with whom I’ve worked during the last year, I think you will see that our spirit for challenge, adventure, and intellectual gain still exists.
At night on the SSV Seamans, I couldn’t help but look up at the stars. I delighted, too, in celestial navigation, an art which, these days, is more easily done with GPS units. That we can derive a point on the surface of our planet from a few pinpricks in the sky is impressive, I thought. But that we understand what those pinpricks are and where we are in relation to them is profound.
Few things in sailing are as important as knowing where you came from, where you are, and where you are going—and this of course presents an easy metaphor for any human endeavor. There is nothing more thrilling than knowing where you want to wind up, and pointing your bow into the dark sky separating you from that goal.
On Tuesday I flew to Canada, after a week-long astrobiology course in Spain. Tomorrow I’ll drive up from Vancouver to Pavilion Lake, to spend the next couple weeks deploying submarines with the Pavilion Lake Research Project. I’m so pumped to be working with many of the same folks who were at the lake last summer–plus all the new people. This year’s lineup includes:
1. more astronauts
2. more undergrads
…both of which I’m really excited about.
I’ve spent the last few days helping out with inventory and packing at UBC, and trying not to feel too overwhelmed with the amount of stuff we’re going to cram into this field season. I’ll keep you posted! In the meantime, below is a pair of photos from Spain. In addition to seminars on subjects like microbial metabolisms, deep-sea hydrothermal vents, and Saturn’s moon Titan, we were treated to an afternoon of spelunking.
Here we are inside El Soplao cave:
…and here are a few of the ladies, posing outside afterward:
More soon,
Zena
Just to keep the ball rolling on this ol’ blog, here is a hideous photo of me on board the Gould:
And because I know you’re wondering: that is a squid in my mouth. The hazing ceremony for crossing the Antarctic Circle for the first time via boat includes activities like “Bobbing for Squid.” Good times.
In other news: I’m headed out to Spain in two weeks (for an astrobiology course), before I return to Canada to work with the Pavilion Lake Research Project again this summer. So stay tuned!
edit: I deleted this video when the audio stopped working. I’ll upload it again as soon as I can!
-May 2009
Here’s another short video I put together in the Antarctic. The footage is mostly of the scientific equipment we used. It’s less exciting than the last video I posted, but I hope it gives you an idea of what it was like on board the ARSV Gould, constantly deploying and retrieving scientific equipment. The first couple of scenes show some rough seas while crossing the Drake Passage; the last few scenes show us taking the Zodiacs out on the water, which was always incredible. Those orange coats you’ll see everyone wearing are nicknamed “float coats” (sort-of a cross between a life vest and a parka… really toasty, but unfortunately not entirely waterproof).
You can click the “HQ” button in the bottom right corner of the player to see the video in higher quality.
On Torgerson Island, near Palmer Station, an Adelie snuck up on me while I was photographing a pair of chicks. I was totally oblivious until it was nearly touching my leg. This was, incidentally, the same penguin that makes an appearance around 0:42 in the video I put up in my last post…
Here are a few strung-together clips of icebergs, humpback whales, penguins, and other views from the West Antarctic Peninsula. To see the video in better quality, press play and then select the “HQ” or “view in high quality” setting presented in the bottom right corner.
I’ve posted some photographs from Antarctica. You can find them on the Photographs page under “Photos from Antarctica” (or click here to see them!)
They’re out of order, and I haven’t given them captions yet, but you’re welcome to take a look anyway.
I also took several hours of HD video. Edited videos will be posted… eventually.
Our lab on board the Gould is all packed up into several metal trunks, which are now tied securely to bolts in the wall. By tomorrow we’ll be in the Drake Passage once again, northbound for South America.
The last few days have been a nonstop show of stunning scenery and Antarctic shenanigans.
On our way back north from Charcot Island, we took the inside passage, squeezing in between the Antarctic Peninsula and the islands just off its coast. Steaming through the Tickle Channel, the ship had to steer through a gap in the mountains that was so small I couldn’t even see it until we were practically in it.
I’ve recently achieved Shellback status, meaning I’ve undergone the traditional “ceremony” for those who have crossed the Antarctic Circle in a ship. What this more or less entails is a hazing ritual inflicted upon us by those who had crossed in the past. Events of the day included: bobbing for squid, a 5-gallon bucket of freezing seawater on my head, embarrassing songs and dances for King Neptune, and the disgusting “Whale’s Belly” … I won’t give too much away, in case any of you should some day partake in this ritual.
After the hazing, we spent a few hours exploring Prospect Point–including sledding down a glacier on trash bags, and a boat-wide snowball fight. It was the sunniest, calmest, clearest day we’d had yet, which was great, aside from the horrible sunburns most of us got. Heading back to the Gould in our Zodiacs, we had to fight through more brash ice than I’ve ever encountered. The water was so clear that we could see down to the submerged portions of the icebergs. Everything was bright white and blue, like some kind of oversaturated, overexposed photograph. This whole continent is very monochrome and very bright.
Last night we stopped at Palmer Station for a final cargo load and a Superbowl party. Components of an Antarctic Superbowl party:
Barbecue on a grill someone had welded together specifically for our Superbowl dinner? Check.
6-hour-long sunset? Check.
Penguin-watching during halftime? Check.
Jumping into water with icebergs and humpback whales? Check.
10,000-year-old ice in my drink? Check.
The Gould left the pier at Palmer around 05:30 this morning.
Antarctica is beginning to transition into winter, which means we may actually get an hour of darkness tonight.
I woke up this morning after semi-consciously dreaming that I was inside a Slurpee machine. Turns out, my dream was influenced by the slush-thunk-slush-slush sound of the ship’s hull breaking through sea ice. I immediately ran on deck to check it out.
We’re now in the area of Charcot Island. The scenery here is exactly what I used to picture when I thought of Antarctica… Enormous icebergs, as tall as houses and as long as trains, were everywhere. Stretching between the scattered large bergs was a gently rolling expanse of white, the remains of winter’s pack ice. Crabeater seals snarled at the ship as we crept along. Every time we hit a particularly large chunk of ice, the whole ship shuddered.
In recent news:
* We launched a Zodiac this morning in search of a penguin colony, reported to be on the island a few decades ago. No one has set foot on Charcot since the 1920s. The birders weren’t able to find a good landing spot, but did catch sight of a couple penguins on the island.
* Yesterday we discovered two new islands.
* Two days ago we made a stop at Rothera, a British Antarctic base. The base overlooks a bay which must be some kind of iceberg dump–the place is full of them. In the afternoon, we were challenged to the annual Gould vs. Rothera soccer match, which is played on the base’s air strip. The match was postponed because a twin-otter plane needed to take off, but we eventually played… and lost. At night the Rotherans hosted a dance party, complete with live entertainment and a front end loader as the backdrop for the stage.
