DynOPO Cruise 2017 : A bit about life on a research ship in the Southern Ocean

We are starting week four of the cruise. After three weeks, we have adapted to a certain rhythm. This rhythm is not one that repeats, as plans change in the manner of minutes given weather. Rather, our lives have developed a rhythm based on the constant motion of change, both literally and metaphorically. In this post, I mention elements of what life is like on this cruise, both work and non-work, and share a few photos of people doing things they do. This post is a bit long, partly since it addresses questions that I know many of my family have about what is actually happening on this ship. And partly I found the time today to write while waiting out yet another Southern Ocean storm.

Another storm and a rough night's sleep

I did not sleep much last night, nor did most people whose nights are normally spent in bed. The weather turned rough, with 60 knot wind gusts and upwards of 12 metre swells. Early morning, when daylight broke, I looked out my cabin window in awe. The ocean was a turbulent, boiling, mass of chaos. The wind ripped the white caps completely off the wave tops, as if the wind was expressing a fury at the ocean for invading its domain. Sea spray flew in random directions. This sort of "air-sea interaction" is the grist of upper ocean physicists and chemists, as it provides the route through which matter and energy are exchanged across the air-sea interface. It was fascinating to be part of this incredible sea of turbulence. Fortunately, I was safely ensconced in my cabin.

The ship lower decks have ice from waves splashing over the side rails, leaving frozen seawater from the -5C air. The ship moves with the swells, trying to maintain a stationary position pointed into the oncoming waves. But the waves are rather unorganized, so the more stable pitching of the bow/aft is often interrupted by a swell coming near broadside. When on a roll, the ship's ballast mechanisms make an eery noise as it strains to keep the ship stable. There is seemingly no end in sight to the gray sky and gray/white ocean, though sometimes a ray of sun shines through the clouds, perhaps signaling the end of the storm is near?

This heavy weather came to us by surprise. The forecast called for 30 knot gusts and modest sea state. Although not suitable for novice sailors, 30 knot gusts and category 4-5 sea state has become our working norm. So the forecast was roughly a factor of two under the realized weather, with category 8-9 seas and 60 knot gusts moving us around like a cork.

Preparing Boaty on deck for his deployment a few days ago.

Weather forecasting for the Weddell Sea region

Alberto conjectures that when the weather comes out of the south, from near the Antarctic continent, the forecasts are poor due to inadequate meteorological information. In particular, there are poor meteorological measurements over the Ronne and Filscher ice shelves extending over the continental shelf region of the Weddell Sea. Weather coming from that direction is therefore difficult to forecast by numerical prediction models. Our current weather is an example. In contrast, when weather comes from the west, from the South Pacific portion of the Southern Ocean, the forecasts have been more reliable.

Work at my NOAA lab in Princeton has connection to weather and climate prediction. Indeed, the atmosphere, ocean, and sea ice models developed at NOAA/GFDL are now being transitioned for use in new weather and climate prediction models at the U.S. National Center for Environmental Prediction. I thus have a lot of sympathy for those scientists and engineers whose work involves forecasting the weather. It is an incredibly difficult job.

Although missed forecasts happen, generally those living in lower latitudes can rely on weather forecasts up to a nearly a week or longer ahead. Reasons for such skill include very good computer models and a suite of satellite and in situ data to help constrain the models. In contrast, over the Southern Ocean and Antarctica, there is far less data available to constrain the models, which in turn creates uncertainty in the forecasts. Additionally, the weather down here can change very quickly, and in rather dramatic ways. Winds rise and rise, with the infinite fetch driving wild ocean waves that grow into huge swells.

Back deck of the JC Ross. Note the blue skies! They have been a rare sight. Also note the snow/slush on the deck. The UIC windows are on the right, on deck above. That is where the winch operator sits, as well as scientists and engineers monitoring the various instruments. The yellow shipping crate houses the VMPs.

Motion on the ocean: a mindfulness bell

The JCR is a very stable ship. If it moves, it is because there are serious swells, like those we have now. This motion is a constant reminder that we are not on land. More generally, it is a reminder that everything changes whether on land or on a ship.

While sitting at my cabin desk writing this blog, everything in the room swings from side-to-side when the big swells move under the ship. My chair (no wheels on the chair!) slides on the carpet. I hold onto the desk and laptop, and make sure other objects are safely stored in the desk or under a pillow or blanket on the bed. As the swell passes, I have a few minutes of relative stillness, only to have another large swell come through a few minutes later. I make conscious use of the railings while walking in the hallways, sitting on the thrown, taking a shower, and laying in bed. They are present for good reason.

Intermittent and unpredictable weather, and ubiquitous motion, is a central part of life on a ship in the Southern Ocean. We try to recreate elements of the familiar: sleep, eat, wash, socialize, work, communicate. Yet each facet is distinct here given the presence of an unpredictable element from winds and waves.

Fortunately, so far as I can tell, no one has suffered from motion sickness. My body has adapted. The motion has evolved from being an interesting novelty early in the cruise to a routine element of everyday life. Unpredictable motion acts like a "mindfulness bell", reminding me that nothing is stable or constant, no matter how much I may wish it to be so. I must watch my step, breath in and breath out, and then step again, remaining mindful of the next move. I cannot assume the floor will remain stationary, nor can I assume tomorrow will be as today.

Elements of life on the ship

Some everyday aspects of life are worth mentioning, as they take on aspects otherwise unnoticed or simply taken for granted on land. When on a moving ship far from any civilization and exposed to natural forces, one needs to reexamine many assumptions.

Water on the ship is surprisingly good. Indeed, it is better than Princeton tap water. Turns out the ship makes its own fresh water in a desalination plant onboard. So although we need to be careful not to over-use or waste water, there is generally no shortage. We enjoy fresh cool water for meals and warm water for showers.

When south of 60S, nothing can be discharged from the ship due to international treaties that aim to protect the Antarctic environment. (I wonder why this rule is not present for all of the oceans, but that is another story.) So all waste is held onboard, just like a mobile home. Waste products are collected and sorted for later recycle or incineration. Toilets are similar to those on an airplane, with vacuum suction taking waste to the ship's sewage hold.

Clean sheets and towels are provided each Friday morning. For personal laundry, we use a washing machine and dryer. The "Boat Deck" (my floor) laundry room also has room to hang clothes to dry. I also find the clothes dry reasonably well in my room, as there is a ventilation system that keeps the air moving.

Internet is sporadic, sometimes down but more often just reliably very slow. The speed reminds me of the early 1990s. I keep each email limited to text with no attachments. I then watch for a few "mindfulness" moments as the message is, slowly, sent on its way. My normally rapid email reading/sending is non-existent on this ship. I communicate with my wife via email once every day or so. There is a phone connected to my cabin that is routed through Cambridge, UK. But I am told the time delay makes it very difficult to hold a regular conversation. So most people settle for email or Google chat.

I find the best time to post a blog is after 8pm, or early morning before breakfast. Even then, it is not possible to download/upload files more than 1-2Mb in size. I therefore must reduce blog photos to low resolution, otherwise the upload times out. I also limit my intake of online news to a few moments each day, just enough to catch the main headlines. I have some thoughts of bringing this level of news intake back with me to land, as news overload can drain my soul.

So far on this cruise, I have not seen a single insect. Part of the reason is due to the cleanliness of the ship, and part is due to the extreme weather conditions down here. I presume this situation is very different when doing a tropical oceanography cruise!

Meals

Meals are very good and plentiful. Scientists have two places to eat. One is the formal dining room for officers and scientists, serving meals at 7am, noon, and 6pm. The ship cooks and stewards are friendly and quite efficient. I eat quasi-vegetarian at home. Yet I decided to compromise on this cruise in order to ensure my nutrition intake is sufficient. I have fortunately had no worries with that concern. However, I am told that after roughly 5-6 weeks on the cruise, the vegetable options becomes quite limited. I have thus focused on eating plenty of salads while they last.

The second meal location is the "duty mess", where we go for meals during off hours or when on duty and needing a quick meal while in our work clothes. I also use the duty mess on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday for late dinners eaten after the "Circuits" fitness class (530pm-630pm).

Andy Davies (Woods Hole) and Paul Anker (BAS) in the engineering lab next to the back deck. Yes, they have received some teasing about their similar attire!

Relaxing in the lounges

The officers/scientists have a lounge area on the "Boat Deck" (deck where my cabin is located). The crew has another lounge on the "Upper Deck", which is two decks below the Boat Deck. We had darts on 31 March at the crew's lounge, and on 5 April we had a trivia quiz night at the officer/scientist lounge. In general, the lounges are where we socialize, share a movie, or just hang out.

In the lounge, we can purchase beer, soft drinks, and treats. No liquor is allowed on the ship. Purchasing is done by placing a mark next to our name for later billing. On board, there is no money exchanged, which makes life very simple. Similarly, Lloyd the purser marks our name with items purchased from the ship "store", such as tooth paste, or ship souvenir T-shirts, caps, and sweat shirts.

The ship has a share of movies and TV shows that we can watch, with some folks gathering in the evening for viewing. There is also a large music selection that can be played in the UIC.

Tom and Carson, both BAS crew members, next to the winch operation control in the UIC. Without the BAS and NOC crew and engineers, the scientists would be totally lost. These guys make science happen in one of the most extreme environments on the planet.

Fitness

There is a small gym on board. I sometimes use its treadmill to run on days when not doing Circuit training. Today, we canceled Circuits due to the heavy ship roll. I thus found myself on the treadmill, hanging on while the ship rolled up and down while I ran 4km. I prefer Circuits given its social aspect. I simply respond well to the group energy when doing fitness (or perhaps it is just good peer pressure!).

Circuits (I believe it is similar to "Crossfit" in the US, though unsure) is held in one of the ship's storage holds under the bow. Circuits consists of about 8-10 exercise stations. We cycle through each station (forming a "circuit"), performing an exercise for a short period of time, and then moving to the next station when time finishes. We generally have five circuits around all of the exercise stations. The third circuit has 45 seconds at each station, whereas the other circuits have 30 second stations. Exercises are generally aimed at cardio work, core work, and arm/leg work. They have names often distinct from the US. For example, "press ups" are what Americans call "push ups". My favorite exercise name is the "James Bonds", which consists of holding our hands together with index finger pointed (like a pistol, hence the name), and doing sit-up / crunches. We have anywhere from 8-12 participants in Circuits, with Helen Jones our fearless leader (Helen is also the ship's medical doctor; Google for her great blog!).

Adjacent to the Circuits class, Andris, the chief ship engineer, has weight lifting gear. He does a serious weight session each evening, sometimes with Andy from Woods Hole joining in, while the rest of us do Circuits. Andris generally has some loud music playing to keep the energy moving. Although not the yoga experience I have in Princeton, I enjoy having the group exercise and greatly appreciate Helen for leading the sessions.

Nurturing new ideas and collaborations

Weather disruptions have been common on this cruise. It is an unavoidable facet of Southern Ocean field work. What do we do when waiting out the weather? Some downtime is spent analyzing the newly obtained data. This preliminary data analysis motivates refinements to the measurements taken on the remaining days of the cruise. Indeed, one great aspect of this cruise is that it has relatively nimble schedule, allowing us to respond to new ideas and results as they arise.

Some of my downtime has been spent reading from a long list of science papers on my "to read" list. I am reminded of a physics professor of mine who could often be found sitting quietly in his office, looking out the window and/or reading an interesting paper often unrelated to his immediate research. He insisted on spending time each week to "fish" for new ideas by simply following his curiosity. I have a tough time realising that philosophy in Princeton, where many distractions and "more important" tasks eat away at my free thinking time. Yet weather delays on this cruise have offered opportunities to me for such brainstorming, either on my own or in discussions with others. These periods of boundary-less contemplation and free-form discussions feed me as a scientist. There is nothing more inspiring to my scientist-head than trying to answer an unsolved question about nature. Often the best means to realize insight and inspiration is by letting open-hearted curiosity and intuition be the guide. Fortunately, there are many opportunities on this cruise for such guidance.

Mostly, my fishing expeditions lead to dead ends. At least, that can be the appearance. But I suspect, and have experienced, "dead ends" that in fact are the openings of new paths when revisited years later. Other times, ideas are immediately prompted and discussions ensue. In particular, I have become quite intrigued by elements of submesoscale and internal gravity wave dynamics through chats with Christian, Alberto, Kurt, Sonya, and Eleanor, thus motivating me to delve into a suite of research papers on these topics. I am also compelled by some of the ice-shelf measurements around Antarctica described by Keith Nicholls of BAS.

More generally, when on a cruise with diverse scientists and engineers, spontaneous discussions lead to ideas that can seed new cruises and/or new research paths. Such interactions are essential for pushing back science frontiers. And they are what makes doing science incredibly fun and compelling.

Patience and persistence

As I have begun to appreciate while being on this cruise, developing a mature scientific story based on field measurements generally takes years. One often needs to compare or to combine data from one cruise to that from a suite of other cruises. One often needs to piece together strands that may not be so apparent during one particular cruise. One may need to dive into new (and sometimes old) theories and make use of sophisticated computer simulations. It is for these reasons that I have a difficult time answering a commonly asked question: "What will this cruise uncover about the earth system?" It is generally tough to know all the implications of the data until well after the cruise. New data typically only partially answers questions that originally motivated the cruise, while it can refine and challenge hypotheses and raise new ideas and questions. Piecing together the strands is like detective work, taking years of patience and persistence. Such is the nature of scientific research.

Paul Anchor (BAS), Eleanor Frajka-Williams (Southampton University), and Christian Buckingham (BAS), holding on during a wind storm on top of Monkey Island. They are part of the ''day shift'' along with me, with Christian our fearless leader.

Kurt Polzin (Woods Hole) and Alberto Naveira Garabato (Southampton University and chief scientist on the cruise) having a discussion early in the cruise. They are in the Unified Instrumentation Centre (UIC) where most of the science measurements are coordinated. We also have heaps of spontaneous discussions here, such as this one.