Just over a week before departure

There is now clarity regarding my travel schedule.  I leave Princeton on 14 March for Punta Arenas, Chile, with arrival about 24 hours later on 15 March.  I will be shuttled from the airport to the ship (no hotel needed), where we will settle and prepare for ship departure on 17 March.  

My preparations in Princeton have largely focused on gathering necessary gear: medications/vitamins (heaps of ginger and Dramamine for motion sickness), books and papers onto my laptop, and clothes.  I have been feverishly working to finish a number of research projects, or at least to bring them into a stable holding pattern.  Alas, many projects will undoubtedly remain incomplete, but that is to be expected since research is never complete. 

I also spent a few days in late February with family and friends skiing in New York State (Hunter Mountain). We had a great time, particularly since my son Francisco is now able to go down most slopes with me.  He is a very good ski partner. Perhaps next year we can venture to a more significant mountain, such as Vermont or out west! 

Many people have asked what I am most excited about. That question is not easy to answer.  I am, in fact, trying to avoid imagining one thing or another.  Indeed, I am very much uncertain about many details. Instead, I am content to be surprised, and no doubt there will be many (hopefully all good!).  Nonetheless, I know it will be tough work; life will be less than comfortable; and there will be many many days of long shifts working with the experiments and taking measurements. I am the newbie among a group of stellar and experienced seagoing oceanographers. So it will be time to drop any pretense that I am "smart". Instead, I will be a student, yet hopefully not all "thumbs". More generally, I am excited about being on the open ocean and doing work to help better understand the ocean.  

I am also longing for a significant time away from electronic communication, the type where people expect an immediate answer.  Eight weeks with minimal communication options will, I hope, offer  the opportunity to fully engage in the work at hand; interact with other ship mates without needing to worry so much about other appointments; read for hours on end; or simply take in the view and shot some photos and videos.  All of this activity will take place without interrupting to check email! 

Some of my fondest memories of graduate school (1988-1993) relate to those days spent immersed in study, with interruptions generally limited to eating and sleeping. Email was checked at most once a day, and only for those days when I went to the laboratory where the computer sat. Will that sort of focus and presence be available on the ship? No doubt the quiet of my graduate school apartment room will be missing: research ships are not quiet. But the absence of an expectation that "Griffies will respond to this email message very soon" will, I presume, liberate me from the nagging thought that I must not disappoint that expectation.  Granted, I appreciate that much of my work requires rapid communication to keep collaborations strong. I furthermore greatly enjoy being able to meet with colleagues in Australia as if they were next door.  Skype, Slack, and email are routinely part of my work life.  But to step out of that communication web for a significant time will be, as I said before, somewhat liberating.

Furthermore, I will also remain happily ignorant of constant updates of the daily news feed. The world will continue its drama. Yet my drama will be for most part localized to a ship in the Southern Ocean with a handful of people trying to survive with some comfort;  having some fun while doing their job; and to learning a bit about how the planet works.  Even so, I have no doubt that news of major events will filter through to the ship.