Teething Problems

Tuesday 14 December 2010

These first few days have been like being lost in a whirlwind. Ceini was taken out by a horrible bug which left us running around picking up the falling pieces - I think I've grown extra invisible arms. My FIRe machine (Flourescence Induction and Relaxation which measures phytoplankton's photophynthestic "health") and I have been swearing at each other and pulling faces behind each other's backs ever since she took a chunk out of my hand (no laughing matter when you are dealing with salt water). I had to reread the instruction manual before we could call a truce - I still need to check today's data to see if the truce has held.

Our incubators are up and running. The helicopter team (some of whom were on last year's cruise) were amazing here. The incubators are placed on the helipad, so after gaining their permission to use the area I arrived with some helping hands from my team to set up the incubators, all of whom went back to their other work (feeling useless) when the helping hands of the heli-team enthusiastically descended to help me.

I have built a tent for myself under one of the benches in the wetlab. This is so I can spike my fertilization experiment without contamination. Set the experiment up last night - and in the process have redesigned the entire system to be more efficient. Raised a few smiles while setting it up - just for those who appreciate me lying on my back in a plastic tent, under a bench covered in dirt, water and duct tape. Years of childhood tent building took over.

We exerted our power as Oceanographers just two hours outside the harbour as we succeeded in bringing The Agulhas to a grinding halt! The Fe fish's winch broke bringing back memories of the nightmares of last year. The ship was stopped to bring it back on board safely.

The most critical accident was the loss of our Underwater CTD (Conductivity Temperature and Density). It's a machine we can cast behind us to measure the physical properties of the water column without stopping the ship. Its rope is meant to withstand extreme Southern Ocean stress. We are sailing in calm seas (2-3m swells). We lost it. With the full brain power of all on board, we have drawn up four possible reasons for the break of the rope of such an expensive piece of equipment:
1.) We hit an oceanography float (which would be funny - losing two pieces of expensive equipment in one cast)
2.) We hit a whale (which would be sad)
3.) We hit a Lochness monster (on its way to visit a distant cousin - we think this is the most likely explanation)
4.) Underwater pirates

On crossing into the Southern Ocean (across the Sub-tropical Front) we did our own ceremony. Seb (team leader) and I organised it as a surprise. After gently coaxing the whole team into the bar and briefly explaining to its inhabitants the significance of the crossing (work starts in earnest here) face paint, water tasting, acceptance of a vial of the front's water and a hoodie occurred. The Southern Ocean's Carbon and Climate Observatory (who we are collecting the data for) organised us hoodies to celebrate the 50th SANAP (South African National Antarctica Program) expedition.

The first few nights revealed a night sky of mythology and a darkness that wrapped around you like a fog, but now night is turning light, with hours of dusk lining inky blackness of crevices encrusted with jewels.

Tonight was beautiful. The first iceberg against the setting sun teased us on the horizon and the wondering albatrosses are now crossing these waters with us. I will always be lost in the wonder of those wings.

I swear I saw our first iceberg of last year again. They are all so unique in shape, to see one looking so familiar suggests an ageing friend.

Half the passengers have been seasick since leaving Cape Town. As we have been having beautiful weather (nothing has fallen off tables yet), I find this hard to understand.