Orkney Passage moorings

A relatively clear sky and flat seas at 60S in the Orkney Passage. The sky textures are many and varied. They express a huge suite of colour and a range of patterns. The clarity of cloud formations is unique to the high latitudes, where aerosol pollution is far less prevalent than in the lower latitudes. We have been blessed with some mild weather, offering us a respite from the raging seas and howling winds that have been the norm. It is good weather for work and for sleep. 

Port side looking towards the rear (aft or stern) of the JC Ross on a relatively clear day in the Orkney Passage.

Eleanor captured this image of swimming penguins. I cannot get enough of these photos! Penguins seem to be infinitely entertaining.

I awoke this morning, 17 April, to a rather unusual site from my cabin window. The seas were calm, the sky revealed some blue, and the winds were still. The view over this calm water reveals far more details about the fauna of this region than otherwise visible with roaring seas.  What is that  fin?  Is that a minke or southern right whale?  See those penguins in the distance?

Imagine a calm early morning in a small boat. Then imagine not seeing any land on the horizon.  Then put the water temperature at just above freezing. Finally, add to the mix a suite of exotic fauna, from birds to whales to penguins.  That is nearly the scene today.  The main difference is that we are in the comforts of a  large metal ship with massive diesel engines. It is relatively quiet for such a machine, or at least my mind has learned to filter its noise from my awareness.  Indeed, during many moments standing on deck outside, or even looking through a window in the comforts of a warm cabin, one can realise sweet expressions of silence and stillness among the natural forces that surround us.

There are storm clouds on the horizon in more than one direction. But for now, we experience some calm.  This is ideal weather for our work, so we make the most of it.  Last night's shift did a full suite of CTD and VMPs.  Today, 17 April, we will deploy one CTD and then send Boaty McBoatface on his third mission into the abyss of the Orkney Passage. During his mission, Boaty will measure turbulence and the fine scale of ocean properties within the mountains and valleys that sit beneath the waves. 

Povl Abrahamsen of BAS, listening to the acoustic pings being sent to an Orkney Passage mooring. Once we get close to the mooring, Povl sends an acoustic signal to the mooring from this yellow box. The signal informs the mooring that it can release its weights and float back to the surface for recovery and eventual redeployment. 

Recovery of one of the ADCPs on an Orkney Passage mooring. The yellow ball is made of hard plastic foam that is able to withstand pressures down to 3000m in the ocean. It provides the housing for the acoustic transducers that are pointed downward at an angle. These transducers send acoustic signals into the water column, with their wave signals returned to the ADCP after scattering off of particles in the water. Through some geometry and acoustic wave analysis, we can then infer the horizontal current velocity. It all seems rather straightforward to an acoustic engineer who may work on dry land. But what makes seagoing measurement device design so difficult is the need to ensure they work day after day under extreme conditions. It is a very disappointing day when an instrument is recovered, only to find a battery went wrong or a wire corroded.  Fortunately, these moorings appear to have done well during their two years of service to ocean science.     

DynOPO mooring recovery on 14-15 April

As we awoke on the morning of 15 April, we had -5C air temperature after a snow fall the previous night. For some reason, the night watch has generally been privileged to witness such snow storms!  The deck is slippery with ice this morning. A blue sky peeks through the gray storm clouds.

We are on the second day of recovering the DynOPO moorings. There are seven Orkney Passage moorings as part of the DynOPO project. They were deployed two years ago on a JC Ross cruise led by Povl Abrahamsen. On the present cruise, Povl is leading in their recovery and will coordinate the redeployment later in the week.  His team of scientists and crew recovered four moorings on 14 April, and recovered the remaining three on 15 April.  It was a masterful effort by the team, working for roughly 12 hours throughout very cold weather.

The weather, though cold, has been ideal, particularly due to the mild wind and low swell. It is amazing how a full day of productive work can turn the spirits, especially after many days of weather delays. Work has hit a nice rhythm for the past few days, with VMPs, a successful 2nd mission of the auto-sub Boaty (future post), and now the successful mooring recovery.  In addition to these logistical successes, data from the VMPs and Boaty's 2nd mission look interesting scientifically.  And preliminary data from the moorings indicate they did their job for the past two years. 

This is perhaps the most amazing and dramatic photo of the blog thus far.  Eleanor captured this image of a southern right whale just off the back deck during recovery of an Orkney Passage mooring. Whales have been incredibly socialable throughout this cruise, approaching the ship during feeding, and in general just hanging around.  This whale offered us an iconic image of oceanography in the high latitudes. And no need to fret, as the rope loop in the photo is not going to wrap around the whale. We are just as curious about the whale as he/she is of us, and do our best to do no harm!

This is a design diagram for the Orkney Passage mooring OP1.  It shows all of the floats (yellow dots) and instruments attached to the wire.  It also shows the depths (distance from surface) and distance from bottom.  The ''Aquadopp'' provides a local measure of the ocean currents; the ''SBE'' measures temperature; and the single large yellow dot house the ADCP.  The bottom is anchored with three old steel railway wheels.

 A brief on ocean moorings

 Moorings offer us an array data with a relatively small amount of invested people-time. They are the bread and butter of long-term observational oceanography and climate science.  Their time series capture the many time scales of ocean phenomena, from the seconds of random turbulent fluctuations, the hours of tidal motions, the seasonal fluctuations of currents, the interannual variations from the Southern Annular Mode and El Nino / Southern Oscillation, and the decadal and longer time scales of climate change. to centuries.

A schematic of the Orkney Passage moorings, as deployed in 2015. These are the moorings that we recovered on 14-15 April, and will be redeployed later in the week. The panel shows the moorings with a background potential temperature field. Note the different degree of instrumentation on the various moorings, with OP1 and OP2 the most heavily loaded. The numbers on the top of each panel (46 to 56) represent CTD stations made across the section. This image comes from the 2015 cruise, labelled ''JR310''.  The present cruise is labelled ''JR16005''.

The design of each mooring is the subject of scrutiny and thought. What do we wish to measure: currents, temperature, salinity, biology, turbulence?  How can we make our wish list compatible with a limited budget?  What is feasible to deploy and to recover given the extreme weather down here? 

Some of these moorings have been here for a few years, and we hope they will continue to be turned around for many years into the future.  There are changes happening down here.  Such monitoring from moorings is vital to uncovering the dynamical reasons for these changes: are they natural or are they anthropogenic?

Recovering an instrument from one of the Orkney Passage moorings. Note that Andy Davies, our resident mooring recovery expert from Woods Hole, has taken a liking to the orange gear from BAS. It was very cold and long work, motivating many layers to stay warm.  (Photo Eleanor Frajka-Williams)

Povl Abrahamsen in the deck laboratory space, with a portion of the instruments recovered from the seven Orkney Passage moorings. Povl is here wearing his Columbia University shirt, which is where he went to school as an undergraduate.  Povl deployed these instruments on a cruise in 2015, and is in charge of recovery and redeployment on the present cruise.

Easter post: floats, tow-yos, and Sonya's 50th

It is Easter Sunday.  I found a Kit-Kat candy bar under my door, delivered by an anonymous Easter Bunny.  Sonya and Nikki had more candies to pass around during the morning science discussions. 

The weather has been a mix of relatively mild and relatively wavy the past few days. We have accomplished much, and there have been a few days when we could actually sleep well to reduce sleep deprivation. I provide here an update on some of the happenings during the past week. Even so, a lot more has happened that will be the topic of future posts. 

Photo of chin strap penguins swimming near the ship. They offer great entertainment, though they are tough to see and photograph due to their speed and small size. This photo is the result of blowing up an otherwise nearly featureless shot taken among the quickly moving group passing the ship one day.

Stephen Griffies and Sonya Legg next to the ''Princeton Argo float'' just prior to its deployment in the Weddell Sea from the JC Ross back deck. Note the name on my hard-hat must be from its prior owner.

Princeton Argo float deployment  

Sonya Legg and I had the privilege of deploying an Argo float on 12 April.  It was the second of three Argo floats to be deployed on this cruise. We called it the ''Princeton Argo float'', given our association with Princeton University and NOAA/GFDL. 

The process of deploying an Argo float is rather simple, especially compared to the much more complex process of deploying a CTD or VMP.  Argo floats require no more than unpacking and then carefully dropping them in the ocean.  They are a bit heavy, so it took some help to get the float safely into the water.

Once deployed, and Argo float stays on the surface for a few minutes until it "understands" that it is in fact in the water and should turn vertical. Soon after, it drops into the ocean interior to start its multi-year job of measuring temperature, salinity, and pressure over the upper 2000m of the ocean column. Argo floats have revolutionized large-scale oceanography, along with satellite remote measurements.

I wrote a bit about the first Argo deployed on this cruise in the ''A taste of the science'' post on 19 March. As noted in that post, these floats will add to the nearly 4000 such floats around the planet. Argo floats record basic properties of the ocean such as temperature, salinity, pressure, from the surface to 2000m depth. They send signals to satellites every 10 days. These floats have a finite lifetime (few years), so it is desirable for research cruises to deploy a handful in order to keep the array strong. These floats are the main method used to determine how much the ocean is warming due to human effects.

Recovery of the French float, deployed in the cruise just prior to ours.  It was a very calm few hours that afternoon, thus affording those on the navigation bridge the ability to spot the float on the distant horizon.

French float recovery

Later on 12 April, we recovered a float deployed by the previous science team on the JC Ross.  This French team of scientists went further south into the Weddell Sea towards the continental shelf. They deployed a float that we recovered today.  It was an unusually calm day, which facilitated finding the float on the horizon. We will return the float to the French, who will download its data and analyze its results.

There was a big storm to our north, near the South Georgia Islands.  That storm sent us some massive swells.  Here, you see Andy Davies, Nikki, Steve McPhail, and Keith Nicholls leaning into the swell on the UIC. It is generally difficult to depict such motion with a photograph, but this one, taken by Eleanor Frajka-Williams, does a reasonable job.

Tow Yos

During 12-13 April, we also did a section of  ''Tow Yos''.  Tow yos are in essence a CTD cast, but taken while the ship is moving quite slowly rather than stationary. The rosetted is raised and lowered once on each ''yo'', then lowered again.  We did about 3-4 ''yos'' on two sections.  A tow-yo has the advantage of taking finer scale horizontal information, but at the sacrifice of a full depth profile.  We also do not fire bottles until the upcast of the final yo.  

Cliff on the winch during the tow yo section.  The swells are quite large here.  But they offer only modest difficulty so long as the CTD is in the water.  Recovery is tough, however, due to the ship motion.  Cliff and the crew did a great job of recovery in some rather difficult conditions. Doing so really helped meet the science goals for this section.

During the final few yos of the tow-yos, the swells became quite large due to a storm to our north at the South Georgia Islands.  The swells were projected to peak around 3pm.  Well, that was also the time to recover the CTD on the final yo.  Cliff and the deck crew did a masterful job of making the rather difficult process look simple.

Nikki, Christian, and Chris bring Sonya's birthday cake to the officer/science lounge, while Alex, Sonya, Adam, and Paul watch.

Sonya's 50th

Sonya Legg turned 50 on 14 April. To help celebrate, she brought some Chilean sparkling wine from Punta Arenas.  We also surprised her with a cake baked by one of the ship's cook, Chris, and a card put together by Nikki. We held the celebration after lunch, since Sonya is part of the midnight shift, so she is normally asleep from 3pm to 11pm.  An after lunch celebration thus ensured maximum participation.

Sonya's birthday cake, baked by Chris, one of  the ship's cook.

Christian, Chris, Helen, Sonya, Adam, and Paul during Sonya's birthday celebration.  Sonya is clearly relishing the moments.

Icebergs, penguins, and the Lamont moorings

One of my favourite icebergs during the cruise. It followed us for a day in early April when we were doing a CTD section. We called it the ''pesky iceberg'' as it came quite close to a few of the CTD stations. Note the blue tint to the iceberg. Also note the lower flat portion on the right.  Binoculars revealed a field of penguin poop on that portion, left by the colony of penguins making this iceberg their home.

 

A group of chin-strap penguins near the ship, and coming from the iceberg in the above photo. Penguins in water are fast and sleek.  Consequently, they are difficult to photograph. This photo was one of many that I fired as they were swimming around the ship.  Only after I cropped the photo to zoom into the penguins did I discover just how wonderful this photo is.  Look close to see different poses of the penguins. They are quite amazing to watch as they zoom around trying to catch fish.

(Note: The remainder of this post concerns a mooring recovery/redeployment on 22 March.)

An iceberg neighbourhood around the Lamont moorings

The air temperature is -1C during the day and colder at night. The wind and humidity make it quite cold to stand on the Monkey Island overlook above the navigation bridge. Ocean swells are frequent, even with the relatively calm winds today. In the Southern Ocean, there is a good chance that a storm sits somewhere nearby, sending us the gift of ocean swell and the attendant motion. For today, the conditions are good for doing seagoing oceanography in this part of the planet.

We are located at the furthest south location of our cruise, at 63,32' S (read "63 degrees and 32 minutes latitude south) near 45 degrees west longitude. There are icebergs all around the ship.  Icebergs are floating islands of freshwater ice that broke away from one of the ice shelves rimming Antarctica. These ancient ice chunks are compelling and somewhat mysterious features of our ocean-scape.

Parts of the icebergs reveal deep blue shades of very pure ice (made blue for reasons similar to why the sky is blue), whereas other parts are the more familiar white.  These brilliant colours, along with their contoured patterns formed during calving, form an impressionistic image next to the gray sky and dark waters.  I find it difficult to remove my gaze from these creations, and I take one photo after another.

Wherever there are icebergs, there are bergy bits. Bergy bits are small chunks of icebergs that have been eroded away from the mother iceberg.  They represent the eventual fate of all icebergs during their melt into the surrounding liquid sea.

Some of the icebergs floating around us during the recovery and redeployment of the Lamont moorings on 22 March.  We purposefully remained distant from the icebergs, for safety reasons. Some of the distant icebergs are far larger than the ship.

I wonder which part of the Antarctic ice shelf these icebergs broke away from.  When did that happen?  How old is the ice? I understand that some ice shelves can be many thousands of years old.  Answers to these questions could be found by consulting a glaciologist with expertise on icebergs.  But for me today, answering these questions is less compelling than the fascination at simply watching the ice float on the nearby ocean. They are part of our neighborhood, keeping us company as we do our ocean field work.

Georgina is the ship's second officer. She was the officer in charge on the navigation bridge when I went up there to check out the vast expanse of icebergs in our neighbourhood. She was ever watchful, looking out towards the many icebergs.

Ship's radar on the navigation bridge, showing a light blip for each of the icebergs surrounding us.

For our safety, it is important to stay far away from icebergs. Hence, as wonderful as they are for "sight seeing scientists", icebergs are a bother for the navigation bridge. Radar technology allows us to view the extensive field of icebergs floating nearby.  Even so, vigilant visual watch is maintained by the officer on duty and the watchkeeper.  It is astonishing how eyes can become sensitive to objects on the distant horizon, readily picking out an iceberg, whale, or oceanographic instrument on the surface.

A bit about the science of icebergs and sea ice

The cryosphere refers to that portion of the planet that is frozen water, either on land or sea.  When studying ice floating on the ocean, it is useful to distinguish icebergs from sea ice since they have very distinct histories.  As noted above, icebergs are chunks of freshwater ice that broke away from an ice shelf.  In contrast, sea ice is frozen seawater, with some sea ice living through summer but most sea ice in the Southern Ocean newly forming each year.

The ice shelves that form icebergs are generally attached to one of the many ice sheets covering Antarctica.  Scientists have great concern that ice shelves are melting more rapidly as a result of excessively warm (due to human induced climate warming) ocean waters impinging on their underside.  As ice shelves melt, the ice sheets behind them loose their buttresing, thus allowing continental ice to flow into the liquid ocean.  Imagine releasing a cork from a champagne bottle.

Adding more land ice to the ocean increases sea level.  Our cruise is not directly studying these "ice-shelf / ocean" processes that contribute to ice shelf melting.  But these issues are on many of our minds. Indeed, some of the scientists onboard (e.g., Keith Nicholls from BAS) are part of allied projects investigating facets of the science.  There are good reasons to conduct this research, as sea level rise is among the most dramatic and societally impactful results of human induced ("anthropogenic") climate change.

The seasonal cycle of sea ice is massive in the Southern Ocean.  During summertime, most sea ice melts back to near the continental shelf margins.  In late winter, sea ice can extend well into the Antarctic Circumpolar Current to our north.

We entered the Southern Ocean during autumn, during which time sea ice extent is advancing to the approaching winter cold and dark.  For our science, we hope to avoid sea ice as it will make our work with moorings, CTDs, VMPs, and the auto-sub Boaty McBoatface logistically difficult if not impossible. Fortunately, the sea ice extent this year is quite low.  Hence, there is a good chance we will successfully avoid encountering sea ice.

The low sea ice in this particular Southern Ocean autumn contrasts to that of two years ago. At that time, the first DynOPO cruise came here during a period of especially large sea ice extent. These sorts of up/down fluctuations of sea ice extent illustrates the inter-annual variability typical of the climate down here.  This variability, which occurs naturally (i.e., "natural variability"), is superimposed on long term trends of anthropogenic climate change that are ubiquitous on the planet today.

Members of the crew looking over the side at the mooring that was being recovered.

Recovering and redeploying the Lamont moorings M2 and M3

We recovered and then redeployed two moorings today (M2 and M3), starting very early in the morning at daybreak. Povl Abrahamsen of BAS was in charge of both operations (he is an expert at ocean moorings), with help from Andy Davies from WHOI and others from the JC Ross crew. These two moorings are supported by Lamont-Doherty Earth Observatory, which is part of Columbia University in the USA. They are among the longest continuous in situ ocean measurements in the Southern Ocean.  Given our proximity to the moorings, and the presence of mooring experts onboard, we are "turning around" these two moorings to keep the data stream flowing to the broader research community.

Crew member slinging a rope with a hook to grab onto the mooring line. The yellow mooring floats are made from glass spheres surrounded by hard plastic.

Note that "in situ" ocean measurements refer to measurements taken by inserting an instrument directly into the seawater.  In situ measurements are the traditional means for sampling the ocean.  In addition, since the late 1970s, satellites have offered remote measurements of certain ocean properties from space, such as sea surface height and sea surface temperature.

As explained in the "Kurt's Mooring" post (22 March), a mooring is a cable anchored to the bottom, holding a suite of instruments and floats. Details of each mooring are a function of the desired measurements. Moorings M2 and M3 do not reach to the ocean surface.  Part of the reason is that the near surface ocean is highly turbulent and has a lot of wave energy (as we have experienced on this cruise!).  Such back/forth motion can stress the mooring cables and instruments, which can lead to damage over time.  Additionally, it is important to minimize the chances of moorings becoming damaged by icebergs passing by this region.  Finally, it is wise to keep moorings away from the near surface to reduce chances of becoming tangled in fishing gear.

Bringing the top portion of the mooring onto the back deck.  The mooring line is often tangled when bringing it onto the deck, thus necessitating a massive detangling process. This step is the start of a long process of bringing the mooring instruments onto the deck. Note that only those crew members on a safety leash can get close to the back portion of the deck.

A mooring location is recorded from its prior deployment of a few years ago.  When we reach the location, Povl sends an acoustic signal to the mooring, telling it to release its anchor that holds it to  the ocean seabed.  The mooring is always patiently listening for such signals, awaiting the time when it is to be recovered.  When it hears the signal, it releases hold and the floats then bring the whole string of instruments to the surface.

A lot can happen to a mooring over its multi-year deployment, even when deep in the ocean and away from surface waves and turbulence. And even if healthy, a high latitude mooring could find itself sitting underneath an iceberg or sea ice, in which case we would not be able to recover it. Fortunately, both the M2 and M3 moorings were successfully recovered today and they all appeared healthy. After recovery, the instruments were taken off the cable in order to download their data onto ship computers. Then, new instruments were pulled from their crates for redeployment of the moorings.

The turnaround for a mooring recovery/deployment takes a few hours, depending on amount of instrumentation on the mooring and the length of the mooring cable. Furthermore, we often do a CTD cast near the mooring location to help calibrate the mooring instruments.  There are many hands that participate in turning around a mooring.  As said at my son's school: "many hands make light work".  Even so, those working on the cold, windy, and rocky deck are extremely tired after doing mooring work.

I hope to have a future post about the DynOPO moorings located in the Orkney Passage.  We have about six of these moorings to recover on this cruise, with much of that work ongoing as I write today, 14 April. 

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.

Sonya Legg (Princeton University) preparing the Rosette for its next deployment.

Stephen Griffies (NOAA and Princeton University, and blog author) sitting at the CTD monitoring desk in the UIC.

Boaty's first big adventure

Boaty into the water

The British National Oceanography Centre (NOC) Autosub Boaty McBoatface entered the Weddell Sea on 3 April 2017. Boaty decided to return "home" to the ship twice during this day, each time requiring minor software modifications to give him the confidence to cruise into the abyss.  Then, late night 3 April, Boaty was on his own in the deep Southern Ocean for about a day.  He "sailed" around the Orkney Passage near the bottom (around 3500m), sampling the temperature, salinity, pressure (CTD), velocity (ADCP), and turbulence (shear and temperature variance microstructure probes).  Everyone was pleased, not the least Steve McPhail and Rob Templeton, the two NOC engineers on the cruise in charge of Boaty's mission.

The UK NOC autosub Boaty McBoatface being lowered into the Weddell Sea on 3 April 2017 from the BAS research vessel JC Ross. 

Tom, Rob (with smile of satisfaction), and Simon (back to camera) on deck after deploying Boaty.

Boaty returns safely 

We recovered Boaty late 4 April, along with about 1Gb of oceanographic data that is presently being analyzed. Steve and Rob are also running various diagnostics on Boaty, both mechanical and software, in preparation for another mission when a weather window opens.  Overall, everyone is satisfied with this successful maiden voyage of Boaty into the Southern Ocean abyss.

Alberto and Steve pondering why Boaty returned so soon after the first deployment.  A bit of minor troubleshooting led to the eventual full trip for Boaty into the abyss.

Acoustic tracking of Boaty.  Boaty's trajectory was basically a square as he descended, which became more circular due to drift with the currents. The ship is in the center, and Boaty is about 300m radially away at the time of this photo.

Boaty being brought onboard after his first test deployment. He later went back in for the deep dive into the abyss.

Weather is always a player

The weather is a constant player in all of our science.  For example, the weather forecast for today predicted a relatively mild 10-15 knot wind and modest sea state. Instead, we had snow for most of the day, 40 knot wind gusts, and relatively rough seas.  This sort of weather is not friendly to VMP, CTD, or Boaty deployment and recovery.  Fortunately, we were able to recover Boaty last night before the weather turned too rough (though it was snowing), and we recovered a VMP late today without problems. We just now deployed a CTD, after a rather careful entry to the waters to minimize the pendulum action of the CTD.

Recovering Boaty at night in a snow storm on the Weddell Sea.

Lazarus rises from the abyss

Wonderful news.  The VMP was recovered early evening on 1 April!  This was a great event, and certainly not an April Fool's Day for us. 

Scientists, engineers, and crew all sitting around the monitors in the UIC (unified instrumentation centre), awaiting for signs that the stuck VMP would rise (Alberto is in front).  Soon after this photo was taken, Povl spotted the signal of the VMP depth decreasing, indicating that Lazarus would indeed rise from the abyss.

Dragging successfully dislodged the VMP from the bottom, which then allowed it to rise to the surface within a few hours, rising at the normal rate. It brought some mud stuck to the pointy end around the sensors, mud which would have made a biologist happy!  It also brought about 20 hours of data from within the bottom boundary layer, which is rare and valuable scientifically (though it proved to be uninteresting upon analysis, given the relatively quiet region sampled).

As part of this cruise, we have Boaty McBoatface, a name given to our auto-sub to be deployed on 3April.  Not to be outdone, we decided to give the VMPs a name as well.  The troublesome VMP has been named "Buffy" given problems with data written to some of its buffers. We hope that troubleshooting during recent days has resolved Buffy's troubles, with field testing needed to be sure.  Alberto then named the rogue/stuck VMP "Lazarus", given its proven skills rising from the near-dead.  Indeed, just five minutes before Lazarus started to rise from the abyss, Kurt printed Saint Anthony's prayer to recover lost things. It proved an effective prayer that is worth carrying on each cruise!

Billy Platt and Jeff Benson from National Oceanography Centre (NOC) / National Marine Facility (NMS) (Southampton) in the VMP shed with a recovered Lazarus.  Note the microstructure probes on the front of the instrument. That is where all the ''action'' is on the VMP.

The VMP probes at the ''pointy end'' of Lazarus.  Note the piece of mud from its encounter with the bottom.  Surprisingly, none of the probes were damaged. Indeed, we made use of this VMP on 2 April and it took some wonderful data of enhanced mixing on a ridge.

Saturday night after Lazarus

As part of April Fools Day, someone started a rumour that the Indian curry dinner planned for Saturday night included meat from southern right whales.  "But that is not explicitly noted on the menu!" someone said in dismay.  Jeff, one of the engineers with the National Marine Facilities in Southampton (group in charge of Boaty and the VMPs), dryly responded "Yea, I know, but they picked up the whale meat in Punta Arenas, where it is sold in the markets."  Everyone was silent for a moment, perhaps noting to themselves "go vegetarian tonight". Then, Jeff finally reminded us of the date, at which point everyone had a good laugh and sigh of relief!

After the non-whale meat meal, some of the scientists spent the evening relaxing with the crew, something well earned after the recent few days of worry over the lost VMP Lazarus. The crew held a Saturday night dart match ("301") in their lounge, to which they invited scientists to join. This event gave us an opportunity to get to know the crew on an informal occasion.  Some of us were also initiated into the dart game "301", which is common UK pubs (perhaps also in the USA?).

Contributing to the Saturday night fun was our cruise path to the next station.  It took us nearly broadside to the swell.  That is, we were pointed roughly parallel to the wave swell, which means the ship rocked and rolled a lot.  To avoid continual rolling action, the bridge navigated us zig-zag almost as if we were sailing.  Roughly each five minutes we turned across the rolling swell, at which point all hell broke loose in the lounge (and elsewhere). Nothing broke as far as I could see (the crew has tough beer bottles!), but it sure sounded like something should have, particularly in the main kitchen near to the crew's lounge. The chief cook, Paddy, was organizing the dart match.  He did not seem to mind the noises coming from the kitchen; a problem for the morning! This rocking and rolling continued through the night, making sleep quite a chore.  

Kurt added to the wild ride during his midnight shift. Turns out that he noted that some of the bottom topography in this region is not fully mapped with high resolution acoustic sounding. Given that the seas were too rough to do night-time CTD stations, he asked the bridge cruise in a circular pattern for a bit to better map this region. Doing circles in swelling seas created some very interesting bed-time experiences for those of us on the day shift!

CTDs, VMPs, whales and birds

Progress on the CTD stations

As of 31 March, we have completed 34 CTD stations. We were greatly helped in these activities when Craig was given permission to work nights driving the winch, to thus complement Cliff's work during the day. We now have 24 hours a day for CTD stations (Craig and Cliff each do a 12 hour shift). The night shift was quite happy when Craig was given the green-light, as they were otherwise unable to do much work at all.

During recent days, each shift has developed a reasonably efficient routine with their CTD work. As mentioned in an earlier post, measurements at a CTD station include LACDP (ocean currents), CTD (salinity, temperature, and pressure), ChiPod (temperature variance), oxygen concentration, and penetrative radiation (light). Unfortunately, we have not obtained turbulent shear information given the loss of one VMP (stuck at the ocean bottom; see below), and poor performance of sensors on the second VMP.

After completing the most recent CTD section on 31 March, we returned in earnest to the question of what to do about the stuck VMP and the poorly performing VMP. A decision was made to focus efforts during 1 April on recovering the stuck VMP. But before that story, we briefly discuss the basics of what a VMP provides to oceanographers.

Basics of the Vertical Microstructure Profiler (VMP)

The VMP is used to measure very fine scale (order centimetre) fluctuations in the ocean currents. These measurements are used to diagnose properties of ocean turbulence at the very small scales, just above the molecular. The instruments are very sensitive, so much so that they need to be set to fall at a precise rate so as to not corrupt their measurements with flow initiated by the apparatus that holds the profiler instruments. Additionally, the ends where the profilers are located are somewhat pointy, so that they can act like a spear moving through biology (e.g., jellyfish). If they spear biology, that too can corrupt the measurements.

Alberto (white helmet looking left) explaining elements of the VMP (yellow instrument) to Nikki (white helmet with back to camera). The pointy end of the VMP is on the right.  It is the pointy end, with very fine sensors, where all the important measurements take place. The remainder of the VMP houses the electronics and offers the necessary buoyancy for the instrument as it goes down (pointy end down) into the ocean abyss.  When it reaches a specified depth near to the bottom, it drops its weights and returns to the surface.

After a good deal of data processing to remove instrument noise, VMPs offer us information about levels of turbulent dissipation of kinetic energy, as well as the variance of temperature. This data helps oceanographers to understand how the ocean mixes properties such as heat, salt, carbon, nutrients, etc. Think of how we mix milk in coffee. Without stirring to bring the milk into fine stringy filaments, it would take days to homogenize the milk and coffee. Likewise, without turbulent processes in the ocean, watermasses created near Antarctica would never mix with other water as it moves northward. Understanding the physics of such ''watermass transformations'' occupies a great deal of physical oceanographic research today.  One reason is that we wish to understand the causes of such transformations, some of which are natural and others of which are due to anthropogenic (i.e., human induced) warming. 

On this cruise, Kurt, Alberto, and Eleanor are experts at interpreting turbulence measurements from VMPs in the context of the ocean's general circulation.  A key aspect of this cruise concerns such measurements, so it was with great disappointment when on 27 March we had a bit of bad luck.

Preparing to launch a VMP.  In contrast to most other ships, oceanographic research vessels are built in a way that facilitates placing  expensive equipment overboard and then recovering the equipment when the job is done. Doing so is not so easy as it may sound. Difficulties arise particularly when the seas are rough.  For example, the stern region, shown here, can move up/down many metres in a swell.  If one were to drop a VMP overboard in those seas, it may get crushed if it floated under the ship. Recovering instruments in rough seas is very difficult, both in finding the instruments and in getting them safely onboard again. The skills and experience of the crew are critical for sucessful seagoing oceanography. Most scientists get out of the way during deployment and recovery of instruments in order for the crew to do their job safely and efficiently. Note Billy Platt in the shorts on the left.  It is, in fact, quite chilly out there!

VMP temporarily stuck at the ocean bottom

Some bad luck hit early on the morning of 27 March: one of the two VMPs hit the ocean bottom at around 3600m. Unfortunately, it remains stuck there. We used an incorrect depth reading when setting the depth of the VMP dive. This event is not uncommon, but is quite inconvenient. Will it surface under its own ''volition''? Will we find it before the forecast stormy weather makes logistics dangerous? If it does not dislodge, should we drag for it with a hook on a cable some 4000m long? Will hooking the VMP damage the instrumentation beyond repair? 

Today, 1 April, we have returned to the location of the stuck VMP. The plan is to send out a cable with some weights and an acoustic beacon to dislodge the VMP, hopeflly allowing it to then float to the surface. The only way we can "see" the wire and the VMP is through acoustic beacons. There is no video camera and spotlight to offer a more detailed view. Hence, this exercise really needs some good luck. The weather is cooperating thus far, with light snow falling yet only a modest wind sea.

The whole process of dragging for a stuck VMP is not without risks, which in turn lends to slightly different perspectives on appropriate strategies. One risk is that we miss the VMP altogether; another is that we hit the VMP and damage it; another is that we damage the beacon on the cable, which can be a problem for other activities planned for the cruise.

Given the multiple risks, we still must try. The VMP is a very important instrument, particularly for the upcoming portion of the cruise. It is for that portion that we really need good turbulence measurements to test a central portion of the scientific hypothesis for the cruise. Namely, that bottom mixing in the Orkney Passage outflow region contributes to the transformation (i.e., modification) of deep Weddell Sea deep water as it flows north into the Atlantic. There is no other working hypothesis for this transformation, and it must be tested to know for sure.

I will report back on my next posting with results from today's VMP recovery work.

Whales (our friendly charismatic mega fauna)

During recent days, as the CTD work shifted into high gear and as angst grew regarding the stuck VMP and its poorly performing sibling, we were blessed by a number of southern right whales visiting us as they fed on krill. On many occasions, they came to the side of the ship, often quite near to the CTD wire. The winch operator, Cliff, guessed that the whales must be attracted to something related to the CTD: the vibrations perhaps, or the electrical signals? Or were they using the CTD wire and ship to help organize their krill feeds? 

A Southern Right Whale's fluke and a seabird. When the fluke is shown, it generally means the whale is going down for a deep dive and will not surface again for a few minutes.

Regardless the reason, the sight of "our whales" led to great fun during the otherwise routine CTD casts. Everyone on board took great joy in seeing the whales follow us to the next CTD station, blow air from their holes, share with us a view of their curved mouths and huge eyes, and say farewell with their fluke as they dove into the depths. 

Here is a southern right whale feeding near to the ship. Note the blue-green waters, which generally appear when they blow bubbles to herd the krill for feeding. The following information is from a WWF website: ''Southern right whales are medium to large baleen whales, distinguished by the white/grey growths on their head, known as callosities. The shape and arrangement of callosities – above the eyes and top lip, and along the lower jaw – is different for every whale and commonly used as a means of identification. Like all baleen whales, right whales have two blowholes to make breathing at the ocean surface easier. Their jaws are highly curved to allow some 250 baleen plates to hang down from either side of the top jaw like a giant curtain. The plates are up to two metres long and trap some two tonnes of krill and other small crustaceans a day. Made of keratin, the baleen plates continue to grow and fray throughout the whale's busy life.''

Southern right whales were given their name by whalers of 100+ years ago due to their relatively slow swimming speed, good oil and baleen content, and their tendency to float after being harpooned. These characteristics made them the ''right'' whale for harvesting. Fortunately for us and for the whales, we are not here to harpoon them. However, their name still seems appropriate to us on this cruise. That is, their presence was often just at the "right" time to give us a reprieve from our head-games, to thus open the heart for a few moments and bring us back to some of the deeper reasons for being here.

More whale feeding action near to the ship.

Birds and Whales

Sea birds are often found in tandem with the whales, perhaps since the whales stir up food for the birds to eat. I found it fascinating how the birds deftly and nonchalantly position themselves so near to the lumbering whales. Indeed, sea birds are an amazing example of how evolution has positioned a species into a viable niche, even in the presence of stark and stunning environmental difficulties. I was reminded of this point while watching a bird one day during a storm. This bird floated straight into the wind with sea spray pounding its face. It blinked a bit, shook its head a bit, but otherwise seemed unfazed, as if it did not matter whether the day was calm or raging.

One of the many seabirds attracted to the ship, and to the whales.