Author: Alexander Sidelev Page 1 of 2

The last leg of our voyage might have had the most scenic horizon. Juneau is quite a different town than Dutch Harbor.  First thing that comes to mind is the abundance of trees in Juneau. As we sailed through the surrounding archipelago, the evergreen covered mountains greeted us along the shores. Even the air is different in Juneau, it was humid, yet gentler than the Arctic winds. While in Juneau we had the chance to see Mendenhall Glacier, one of the most  monumental landmarks in Alaska. Beautiful in its scenery, and tragic in its fate, Mendenhall Glacier, was the highlight of our port call. One of the first things that I’ve learned about the glacier is the increased melting due to Climate Change. It is undeniable that the glacier has retreated significantly in the last forty years. Its a somber reminder of the effect of human activity upon nature. For me, Mendenhall Glacier was also a reminder of the cause of my career. With each data set I’ve collected, or at least assisted with collection, there is an addition, however small, to the scientific understanding of Climate Change. I’m glad to have seen some much of the Alaskan nature. I don’t know if I’ll get the chance to see it again, or if it will be the same when I do. The port call in Juneau was memorable, and a good way to slowly reintegrate into society. While in Juneau some of the crew were allowed to bring their family members for the transit to Seattle. Yet while our transit took us to the awe inspiring Glacier Bay National Park, this was one of the busiest times for STARC technicians and myself. We found ourselves a week away from our final destination–Seattle, with multiple projects yet to finish. The projects involved securing all the sensors used for underway pCO2 systems, backing up data files, and organizing an inventory of all other sensors shipped for calibration. Nothing exciting or glamorous about our last week of work, but something that had to be done. Although, I do feel that I’ve won the confidence of my supervisors, as I’m entrusted to do the inventory on my own. During this leg I was able to test my organizational skills acquired throughout the cruise. I had experienced the importance of documentation and record keeping, while organizing equipment shipments. There so many details, and meticulous tasks that are impossible to fully memorize. I understood why the documentation was created and carefully curated. I was able to optimize my efficiency by following the instructions and guidelines written in years prior. I’ve also realized what defines good documentation. It is pure work, and constant effort to communicate actions and decision making, especially under the stress of deadlines. By the time we got to Seattle, I had completed the tasks assigned to me. Yet, my work was not over. 

    While in Seattle there were still projects needed to be completed on the Healy. The two that I was able to take lead on were Multibeam echosounder impedance test and remove wind sensors from the ships masts. Impedance test was a day long affair, with multiple shift changes. It is a simple task of disassembly of multibeam transmitters and receivers and electrically testing the resistance to applied voltage. However mundane the task was, it’s important we did it. I understood the bigger picture, and so I was content with performing the task. The data we collected during the impedance test improves the performance of this particular echosounder, and the quality of hydrographic surveying as a whole. It’s not numerical models, or exquisite presentations that improve data collection, but simple routine maintenance of scientific devices. I understood why we had to do it, so it was not a problem for me to spend the whole day conducting the impedance test. And at the end of the day, one of the two tasks I had to do was complete.

    While the impedance test was rather mundane, climbing masts was by far more exciting. Over a hundred feet in the air I climbed, the foremast and the midmast. Tool kit strapped to my chest, and refreshing wind in my face. I was eager to climb, even if a bit nervous. I’ve been terrified of heights my whole life, and climbing the masts was no exception. But I volunteered to do it despite my fear. I knew the carabiner was sturdy, and my footing trustworthy, I was determined to climb. My breath was steady, but my legs shook anyway. The wind oscillated the masts a bit, and I dropped a couple zipties. But I did it, I took down the wind sensors, and safely climbed back down. The adrenaline rush hit me as I stepped back on deck, and I felt great. However absurd my fear of heights is, I felt proud that I faced it. In the grand scheme of things, climbing the masts was not all that heroic, technicians do it all the time. But it was important to me, and that’s all that matters. Needless to say, I told everyone about my achievement, humility is not my strong suit. This was a great way to conclude my internship.

    And then, one day I woke up and departed the Healy for my flight home. The last three months were some of the best time of my life. I felt that I truly lived the life I wanted, filled with excitement, adventure and purpose. Three years ago I decided to to be a Marine Technician, and I am not disappointed. This is more than a career for me, it is a life choice, that I’m willing to follow through. I have completed every task and goal I set out to do during my MATE internship. There are not enough words to describe the sense of accomplishment I have. MATE internship gave me the tools to build the career I want, and for that I am grateful.

 The three day port call in Dutch Harbor was a much needed break from the sea, for myself, and for most of the crew. My time was primarily occupied with visiting museums and hiking in the snow capped hills of the surrounding area. I tried to spend time for most of the port call by myself. On the ship I spent so much time constantly being surrounded by people, being alone seemed like a luxury. Dutch Harbor is always a nice place to stop for a couple of days. There is always so much to see; bald eagles perched on street lights, sea otters swimming along the shore, fishing boats gliding in and out of the bay. It seems just yesterday I arrived to Dutch Harbor for the first time, ready to depart for the Arctic. So much has happened since then, I’ve seen and learned so much in the last eight weeks, but Duth Harbor is the same as when I left. At the same time, when the ship cast off for departure, I was ready to leave. Albeits its beautiful nature, Dutch Harbor is a transient place, a rest stop really, nothing more. We sailed off into the Gulf of Alaska, bound for Juneua. I had volunteered for the night shift, partly to provide relief to my colleagues that worked nights all cruise, and partly to have time to work on my own projects. Working nights at sea has its merits, mostly the uninterrupted chunks of time to focus on specific tasks. As I’m finishing up my internship I’m applying for jobs, and dedicating time to supplemental reading of the science behind the measurements taken in the last science mission. I had anticipated a rather boring transit through the Gulf of Alaska with an uneventful work week. And at first everything was fine, as we left the Aleutians, we passed by a pod of sperm whales to to our port side. The sighting was a moment of joy for just another day at sea. But within the first couple of days underway things started to go wrong. First we had to turn and wait out a storm in the Unga strait, just north of Dutch Harbor. While there, we were in constant rain, engulfed by a thick fog. Two days we spent drifting back and forth in the Unga strait. By the third day the command decided that the seas have calmed down enough to sail through. 

    One of the drawbacks of sailing on an icebreaker, is the fact that it handles poorly in waves. The rounded bow is ideal for breaking ice, but it also takes the full force of a wave in non ice bound seas. When we hit roughly ten foot waves, we felt the force of each one. In addition, Gulf of Alaska has an almost constantly confused wave state. This is due to a peculiar physical oceanography of the region. Bound by mountainous terrain on three sides, and the Pacific current to the south, Gulf of Alaska is effectively a massive gyre. The mountains also provide large influxes of freshwater during the melting season, which create eddies all along the coast. The strong wind shear drives these eddies along the coast in what is known as the Alaska Coastal Current. Combined with the complex bathymetry of the ocean floor, riddled with seamounts and trenches, the effect is a confused sea state. My research into the subject was sparked by looking at the seas from the deck, and observing such unique wave front structures. Most notable is the irregular period of waves, which can not be accurately predicted by forecasts. With comprehension of these factors, I understood the caution of the ships command in sailing through this region. 

    The STARC team, myself included, prepared for the seas thoroughly. We had identified all potential hazards, and secured them. Yet since high seas are such an unusual event for the ship, there are things that we overlooked. I guess that’s a good lesson to learn, to accept that there will be failure. That’s something everyone at sea accepts, that you can’t prepare for everything. But I was not nervous at all, in fact I was kind of excited for high seas. I’ve seen high seas, three years ago, during my time in the South Pacific. At the time I was volunteering on the NOAA ship Ronald H. Brown. I was nervous then, as it was my first time at sea. By now, things like high waves and storms excite me. Mostly because it is thrilling, to be on a rolling ship, where things fly off into the air, unexpectedly. Of course, part of my excitement is rather vain, as high seas always make for a good story to tell back on land. 

    When I reported to my shift in the computer lab, we were still sailing through waves of about ten feet. It was kind of let down for me, we were so prepared for a storm, and it did not happen. But I accepted the fact that not all of my time here is going to be exciting, and worthy of stories to tell. Unfortunately that’s a big part of going to sea, preparing for something that never happens. I got through most of my shift working behind my laptop, and that’s when it happened. The ship took a roll, with such great force, that computer monitors flew into the air. I was shocked, I genuinely believed that the monitors were bolted down to the table, as it turns out, they were not. The ship continued to roll well over twenty degrees from side to side. We were in high seas. My excitement quickly drowned in a rush of adrenaline, the things we overlooked, found they’re way into the air and dropped crashing onto the floor. We spent the next hour cleaning up and tying down everything that posed a threat in the roll. We were lucky, of all the computers that fell, only one was broken. The galley however was not as lucky. They lost one of the ovens, and two others moved across the kitchen, since they too weren’t bolted down. Elsewhere on the ship a drum of hydraulic oil spilt in one of the engine rooms. Everyone was up and moving, cleaning up the mess. Maybe that’s why I like high seas, the solidarity of everyone aboard facing the same challenge. By breakfast the seas have subsided, and we were laughing off the events of the night prior. When its only things that get damaged, it’s easy to laugh. Working on the ship, is one of the few places where events like this are laughed off, almost as soon as they are done. Of all the places that I could be right now, I’m happy that I find myself here, aboard the Healy.

    Forty-five days at sea, and we’re back in Dutch Harbor, at least for a couple of days. It feels like yesterday we set sail for the Arctic. A month and a half have gone by in a blink of an eye. Yet the last week has not been as exciting as the weeks prior. Some days are just less memorable than others. We had dropped off the majority of the science party at Nome, mostly due to the fact that Nome has a bigger airport than Dutch Harbor. After that we remained adrift in the coastal regions of Nome. Due to the typhoon that was in the North Pacific this week, the command of the Healy had decided to wait out the storm in the safety of Norton Sound. Norton Sound is certainly a scenic place to be; with views of snow-covered mountains on the horizon. It felt so much different than the Arctic Ocean that we’ve sailed for the last six weeks. While the color of the water in the Arctic was a dark blue color, almost black, Norton Sound had a green, almost malachite color to the water. My speculation is the green color is due to the runoff of nutrients from the Yukon river on the south side of the sound. The nutrient rich water is also the reason why we had to turn off the underway water sampling systems, as it would clog up the instruments. The three days at Norton Sound were some of the best weather we had, clear skies and gentle land breeze. The effects of the typhoon were felt ever so slightly, with waves breaking against the bow. I really liked to stand in the forecastle and watch the wall of sea spray hit the ship with each breaking wave crest. Sometimes the simplest things are the most impressive ones. Something that I don’t really think about anymore, waves breaking against the bow, are the first thing that comes to mind when I think about my life at sea. Our first day drifting was a nice change of pace, a much slower day without any science operations. I guess I didn’t realize how tired I was until I got a chance to rest. 

    In this last week I’ve been following the footsteps of previous MATE interns and learning hexadecimal programming for a signal converter box. System networking has its moments, I certainly take pride in learning how to program a sensor on the spot. I do enjoy working with electronics, even though the subject is rather dry. The way I see it, I need to know how to do the difficult tasks, in order to have the opportunity to do the exciting ones. To ensure those opportunities, I’ve taken lead on multiple projects for STARC. One of them was designing a work order for power outlet replacements in one of the science labs. In order to formulate the most effective work plan, I thought of what instructions I would need to get the job done. I applied the knowledge from my prior experience as an engineer on the R/V Walton Smith, to complete a task I now have as an intern on the USCGC Healy. This is not a project typically assigned to a MATE Intern. But, one of the skills that novice MarTechs generally lack, is the organization of facility management. Once again, a skill that is not glorious or exciting, but is essential in this career path. Throughout this cruise my notions and expectations of the marine technician career path have become a lot more realistic and practical. Not that it’s a bad thing, just a perspective through more experienced eyes. I’ve gain a significantly more professional outlook about the marine science industry during this cruise.  

    All in all this has been a fantastic cruise. During the last quarters with the captain and crew I was awarded the Coast Guard Arctic Service Medal. I feel honored to have the chance to work so extensively beyond the Arctic Circle. The award is given to all personnel that spent over twenty one consecutive days beyond the Arctic Circle. I have also participated in the line crossing ceremony, but that’s as much as I can say about that. Even though the bulk of my time on the Healy is over, I’m still scheduled to sail on the ship for two more weeks. And although the next two weeks will not be as demanding as the science mission, it is still an opportunity to fine tune my skills and knowledge that I’ve picked up. 

    We are just about done with our cruise. One more mooring recovery and we sail back to Dutch Harbor. I’ve had a great time working and learning all about marine technology and mooring operations. But my time on the Healy is not over in Dutch Harbor, I will be sailing back all the way to Seattle. Transits between ports are nice, the workload is not as time dependent as the actual research cruise. The science mission itself is drawing to a close. For me this was an unconventional cruise, as there was a lot of time dedicated to actually learning the theory behind all systems and instruments onboard. I feel like I’ve accomplished all of my goals during this science mission. I’ve learned all the intricacies of managing deck operations and coordinating science needs with the abilities of the ship and crew. I feel fortunate that the people I work with are always willing to take their time and teach me the skills and knowledge that they’ve acquired in their lifetime. As a novice MATE intern I have the opportunity to absorb what is taught to me without a bias. In fact, the way I see it, unbiased learning is a  privilege that only belongs to beginners. And I have to admit, I do ask a lot of questions. With every new scientific operation, there is something new to learn, something new to see, and I’m always happy to help scientists with whatever they need. There were numerous scientific operations within the last week, yet the most memorable one was sea glider recovery.

    One of the best things I got to do during the cruise was be a part of a sea glider recovery group. The operation requires two scientists deployed on a small boat. The sea glider comes up to the surface and floats tail up. The objective is to catch the glider, without damaging the instruments, deploy a glider cradle, while the glider is still in water, and bring them together back onto the small boat. Usually scientific party does the operation by themselves, but by the generosity of the Chief Scientist and the approval of the STARC Coordinator I was able to participate in the glider recovery operation. This operation was probably the most exhilarating event of the entire cruise. Not that other operations were boring, rather the thrill and adrenaline rush of the glider recovery is unparalleled. But, like any high risk operation, glider recovery requires meticulous preparation, and protective gear. Naturally, I did not bring any of the gear with me, so I had to borrow the thermal mid layers from my supervisor, and a dry suit from the science party. Once again, I am grateful to have co-workers that are invested in my experience and safety. I got a brief training by the science party, and sent out to the small boat. We boarded the small boat and were lowered into the water all the way from O-3 deck. Riding through the swells, Arctic wind in my ears, sea spray splashing in my face, I could not be happier. As we moved in onto the glider location, we reached for the tail, and missed. A few more tries, a couple of position adjustments, and we caught the glider. The command of the operation was delegated to one of the University of Washington grad students, as she had the most experience. While she held the glider and positioned it the right way, I lowered the cradle into the water. With the help of two crew members from the Coast Guard, we got the glider in the cradle and brought it back onto the small boat. Its funny, I was more nervous about messing up, rather than going overboard. Writing about this event, it does not seem that fun and exciting, but experiencing it, certainly was amazing. 

    Shifting away from the exciting world of science operations and into the world of marine technology, I keep finding new aspects of ocean technology that I’ve never thought of before. I’ve learned how to terminate fiber optic cables, and the intensive care required in doing such. The cable terminations are a craft, that require practice and patience. The skill requires a time commitment to comprehend and memorize, to the point when it becomes muscle memory. And after it has been learned and perfected, it’s seldom used. This is mostly due to the fact that infield fiber optic cable terminations are less than ideal, and are a last resort measure. But maybe that is the point of a Marine Technicians skill set, to know what to do when things fail, and hopefully have the foresight to prevent failure. It takes time, and an abundance of concentration to research different parts in the process of transferring an electronic signal to numerical data to computer visualization. Countless human hours are spent in troubleshooting and analyzing possible sources of error. Yet most often than not, the right answer is the most simple one. From what I’ve seen, a broken cable, or a failed battery are the culprits of most problems. And even though it only takes a minute or two to solve such a problem, it takes years of knowledge to properly assess the situation and make correct conclusions. The most important skill I’ve picked up so far, is the methodical approach to problems that I have not encountered before.

Back and forth in the Beaufort sea, a sea lacking any notable features. Most days are grey, without any marine mammal sightings, a few dim auroras flickering at night, and occasional snow. Hours seem to last forever, but days fly by without me noticing at all. Yet, even after six weeks aboard the ship, I still enjoy my time here. The science mission is steadily wrapping up. One of the projects that was added to the remainder of our time, is underway CTD system or UCTD. Simply put, it is a little torpedo looking device on a thin line that’s towed behind the ship. The UCTD operation is a round the clock survey of the top one hundred and fifty meters of the ocean. The main objective is to collect a continuous profile data along a specifically designed track. Such that, for the data not collected during the survey, it can be interpolated with statistical significance from the survey that is done by our scientific group. The shifts for volunteers are split up by two hours per person. One would think that two hours outside do not seem as a difficult task. But when the wind shear adds to an already below zero air temperature, two hours standing on deck can be difficult for some. Yet field observation often require an endurance of bad weather, and repetition of a mundane technique. It’s a difficult and exhausting pursuit, without much glory. But that is what our research voyage requires, a sacrifice of comfort for a glimpse into the unique processes of ocean dynamics in the Arctic. The ship’s track is a spaced zigzag in the Marginal Ice Zone or MIZ.The science party is highly interested in collecting all possible data in the interface of ice meltwater and ocean surface layer. The big picture of our cruise is to understand the increased impact of meltwater upon the physical mixing of the ocean surface layer. At least that is how I understand the mission. 

Marginal ice zone is almost an ambiguous sea state. Mostly made up of pancake and grease ice, the sea is a strange boundary layer between the open ocean and packed sea ice. The scientific definition is still debated, with only recent attempts at defining specific parameters. The simple explanation is that MIZ is the region between ocean and packed ice, where waves are still present in the sea state. The waves are dampened by the presence of ice chunks on the surface, but the swells still move through the ice zone. The dampened wave action manifests itself in long periods through the ocean surface, gently uplifting and dropping pancake ice. Every now and then there is just grease ice in the water, which looks extremely smooth, very much like a layer of grease covering the surface of the ocean.  The marginal ice zone is a unique section of the ocean, due to its peculiar fluid dynamic processes. 

 Even on slow days, there is still a sense of adventure and wonder in the scientific work that we do. Even the basic underway surveys from the ADCP unit and the Multibeam echosounder will be used by scores of scientists back on shore. It’s hard to explain our work to people who are not interested in the scientific pursuit. It does seem almost absurd to sacrifice so much time and effort into continuously collecting data that may or may not be used in further studies of the region. I guess it is an existential choice to work in science, there is no immediate gain from our work, but an addition to the collective knowledge of the world’s oceans. Prior to this cruise I had no idea what a Marginal Ice Zone is, or its importance in the physical processes of the Arctic Ocean. Being part of an effort that seeks to study the unknown, is rewarding in itself. 

        Besides assisting the science party, I’ve spent my time further studying computer networking. I’m not particularly interested in the subject, but it’s a big part of the Marine Technician industry, so I ought to know it. This week has been devoted to learning fiber optic cables. One of the big movements in the industry is to use fiber cables more commonly, as they are immune to radio frequency and electromagnetic interference, which are abundant on any ship. However, unlike the generic electronic cables, fiber optics are a lot more expensive and difficult to work with. They require much more care and specialized tools for termination and splicing. Even though fiber optic cables aren’t as exciting as other oceanographic work, it is still a part of the technicians job, in support of the science mission. There are many parts to this job that aren’t glamorous, and are rather mundane, but they need to be done. On the other hand there are very few workplaces that would invest a lengthy amount of time into training interns such as myself. I feel fortunate that the STARC team is invested in my professional development. Often times interns are used as a source of free labor for mundane tasks, without much educational value. However, my experience is without a doubt an educational one. Everyday I learn something new, that is part of is part of seagoing technicians career. I feel confident that by the end of this internship I will have the knowledge I need to continue my career as a Marine Technician. 

Something that no one tells you about research voyages is that most plans are ever changing. Our research cruise has been ahead of schedule in accomplishment of the science mission. There are multiple additional goals that have been added, on a rolling basis. However, I do not know much of the details, and usually wait until a planning meeting prior to the evolution. Other than assisting science I keep myself busy by learning different skills of a marine technician. There is no single task that marine technicians do that would define them. Rather, the job requires working knowledge of a thousand little things that are necessary for continuous data collection. So far I’ve tried my hand in terminating CTD cables, deploying CTDs, computer networking, meteorological data acquisition, and an endless list of instruments and software that a MarTech is responsible for. 

    Sometimes I find it difficult to keep up with all the nuanced details that I have to learn. There is a sense of panic that I experience whenever asked to do something that I don’t know how to do. I guess one of the best ways to learn something is to figure it out as I go along. Sometimes I feel nervous while at work, maybe it’s something all newcomers experience when they enter a professional field. Other times I want to rush into a task and get it done as soon as possible. I have to remind myself to slow down, breathe, and listen to my superiors tell me how to do it right. As the coast guard likes to say “slow is smooth, smooth is fast”. But I’ve been doing alright, taking my time and learning. There are some things that I feel very confident in, such as: deck work, basic electronics, basic mechanical fixes. Yet there are other tasks that challenge my understanding. Most software, advanced electrical troubleshooting and computer networking prove to be quite a challenge. Much of the concepts behind something like computer networking are very abstract. Luckily there are multiple team members within STARC and the science party that can explain how to communicate with instruments, and how to direct data flow to the Healy servers. Information technology and its application to marine science is interesting in its own way. Yet it is also very much a background process. By design, IT systems are hard to notice and often overlooked by an untrained eye. So far I’ve been familiarizing myself with the IT nomenclature, such as: Dynamic Host Configuration Protocol, Domain Name System, Random Access Memory, etc. Sometimes it takes going over the material a few times before it starts to make sence. Lucky time is something I have quite an abundance of while out here. Just after a few days of studying the subject I can communicate with other devices on the network from my computer, route cables, and most importantly; understand what is going on. One of the main learning objectives that I had for the MATE internship was to learn system networking and its application to ocean instrumentation. During many application processes that I’ve underwent prior to the MATE internship I was always lacking the skill in system networking. Other than system networking I’ve also learned the details of CTD operations.

    Throughout the cruise, we’ve been performing a CTD cast at every mooring deployment site. CTD, or Conductivity, Temperature and Depth instrument is the most fundamental of all marine technician responsibilities. From my prior research cruise experience, CTD casts are the bulk of a scientific mission. However, since the objective of this science mission is to deploy moorings, there has only been a few CTD casts.  The responsibility of the marine technician is to maintenance and operate CTD instrumentation. With the assistance from the STARC coordinator, I’ve had to opportunity to disassemble and reassemble the CTD instrument, colloquially known as the “CTD fish”. It’s the fine details, of knowing which sensor requires a two pin or a three pin cable, what is the angle of tygon tubing connecting the seawater pumped to the conductivity sensor, that are the purpose of my internship. In science, precision data collection is guaranteed by equally meticulous attention to detail in instrumentation. While on this particular cruise, the CTD cast are specifically targeting physical properties of the ocean. There are no Niskin bottles installed on the rosette. It’s probably a better training environment since the task is not rushed by the demands of water sampling by scientists. I’ve been able fix small issues that I find on spare parts of the CTD, slowly putting together all of the details taught to me throughout this internship. 

    Our research cruise is about half way through the mission. Majority of the goals have been accomplished, and now additional projects are added to fill up the time on the Healy. With each day aboard I learn something new, even if it is stressful at times.

The far north reaches of our sea voyage. We’ve lost the internet for about a week, which was a nice change of pace. It’s rather relaxing to detach from the troubles on shore. Some people have a hard time isolating themselves from the world, but that’s not a problem for me. Its kind of funny, I felt more isolated while on land, than while at sea. Some of the best conversations I had were at sea. That’s one thing about working in oceanography; Everyone who is aboard, wants to be here. From the intern fresh out of college, to the chief scientist, everyone has a reason to be out in the Arctic. It’s interesting to hear stories, of tangled and extraordinary lives that brought everyone to this voyage. Some of the scientists had vastly different careers prior to becoming oceanographers. Some were construction workers, others were bartenders, some were merchant mariners, and only a few knew their path from early on. It’s reassuring to me that there is no one way of starting my career, and that sometimes careers depend on luck more than anything. Conversation seems to flow a lot easier when there is one goal at hand. One way or another I’m helping out everyone who asks, learning new methods and building professional networks. As for the work we do, so much has happened in these last few days, it’s hard to put everything down in writing without missing all the details. 

    Our expedition has reached thick sea ice, and we’ve been hunting for the ideal ice floe. Ice floe is just a fancy word for a big ice chunk. First the the infrared sea ice satellite imagery is sent to STARC. Then the processed and re-projected images are then given to the scientific personnel onboard from the National Ice Center. The imagery is then analyzed with the use of ArcMAP, an older  GIS program. I was somewhat surprised when I saw government agencies using outdated software. There is often a misconception that government agencies have top of the line technology. But for the work that we do, it gets the job done. After the ice floe has been identified Coast Guard sends out a reconnaissance team assisted by sea ice expert from the science party. After the ice has been deemed suitable for working conditions, the work begins. Ice work requires layers of foul weather gear. Mustang suits and ice boots, balaclavas, waterproof gloves; we have to do everything possible to mitigate frostbite. Ice stations are a big deal onboard the Healy. Its one of the few times the routine of everyday life onboard is changed. Both crew and scientist alike volunteer to help with hauling equipment from the ship to the ice. Our first ice station required five separate buoy deployments. I was assigned to the one titled WIMBO, or Weather, wave, Ice Mass Balance and Ocean drifter. We got all of our gear together and began drilling the site that was mapped out for us. Ice drilling is probably one of the most exciting things I’ve done on this cruise. A seven foot tall, twelve inch diameter drill, powered by a gasoline motor that cuts through ice like butter. Handling the ice drill requires a least two people, since there is a lot of kickback. Yet, as soon as we drilled at the original site, we hit a melt pond. Melt ponds are a basins of melted freshwater within the ice floe. These basins are a nuisance for ice buoys because they destabilize the position of the buoy on the ice.  So, we had to gather everything up, put it back on the sleds and venture out beyond the perimeter to find a new site. Once again we set the drill, powered up the motor, and began drilling. After about a foot, we hit a melt pond again. Next four or five tries we kept hitting melt ponds, until finally we found the site worthy of buoy placement. We drilled a hole in the ice, and assembled the WIMBO buoy. The WIMBO buoy profiles the water column at a depth of two hundred meters. We lowered a cable riddled with temperature and pressure sensors into the ice hole. The entire operation took roughly four to five hours. The WIMBO buoy is one the most recent programs, seeking to quantify under the ice ocean layer horizontal temperature gradient. As I finished helping the WIMBO group I jumped over to the other buoy deployments. Part of me wanted to learn other ice drifter systems, and part of me just wanted to stay on the ice a little longer. I ended up helping out the Woods Hole group with their buoy drifter. The Woods Hole group was deploying an ITP buoy or Ice-Tethered Profiler. The ITP’s are also quite a unique buoy, as it has two instruments that slide up and down the buoy wire to measure ocean current velocity and heat exchange in the upper ocean layer of the Arctic. Much like scientific mooring buoys the ice buoys also require an astonishing amount of planning. While on ice the lead WHOI scientists leads the team by strict command and fast paced work pace. Unlike conventional scientific work is often slow paced, meticulous and generally safe ordeal, field oceanography is high pressure and high risk. The system of management in field oceanography is much more analogous to military style of management. Everyone knows their place and follows the order given. Yet despite the high pressure during ice operations  much of the science party and STARC personnel are patient with me, and try their best to educate me in field techniques.

    After our science group finished up the buoy deployment, most of the scientists went back on the ship. Myself and a couple other scientists stayed behind and helped out the coast guard with loading the gear back onto the ship. As we were finishing up cargo operations the ship’s whistle went off. A distinct signal; there was a polar bear sighted close to the ship. He was approaching the ship from the starboard side. After climbing the gangway back onto the ship, I immediately grabbed a pair of binoculars and looked on to where he was sighted. I say “he” mostly due to a semi-educated guess based on the size of this particular polar bear. He was quite massive, as it is the end of summer, which polar bears spend fattening up for the winter. The bow of the ship was full of coast guard and scientists looking at the bear passing around binoculars and quick facts about polar bears. I don’t know which one I enjoyed more, having the experience of seeing a polar bear, or sharing with people equally excited about it as me. Maybe it’s the nature of our work, or the remoteness of the surrounding environment, but there is something to be said about the camaraderie aboard the Healy. It is like no other ship that I’ve been on.Looking at the bear in his natural habitat is one of the few moments that truly make this job special. I was looking onto the horizon at the edge of the perimeter, where no human footprints pollute the view. It almost feels like looking onto a different planet. It’s a surreal experience to be out in the Arctic, to see places most people only see on TV in the comfort of their living room. The beauty and awe of the Arctic has not been lost on me just yet.

Our ship has crossed the Chuckchy Sea, and the Beaford Sea, and now we are in the vast Arctic Ocean. Most days are cloudy and unremarkable in scenery, but when the clouds are gone, and the sun shines through the clear blue sky onto the sea ice, the scenery is breathtaking. When we first saw ice the whole crew ran onto the bow, some without coats or hats, just to the see the first ice of our voyage. There is no wave action in the arctic, sea ice dampens the energy transfer from winds to waves. Yet when the ship hits ice, you can feel the shaking, and the hallow thumps of ice chunks crashing against the steel hull. Moving through the ice feels less like a ship at sea, and more like severe turbulence in an airplane. Throughout last week the watch standers on the bridge have spotted Arctic animals, a walrus and a polar bear. While I got to the see the walrus up close, about ten feet from the port side of the ship, the polar bear could only been seen from binoculars. I don’t have any good pictures of the animals to post, for a couple of reasons. One is that the fauna is mobile and most often seen in a blink of an eye. And more importantly, I’d rather enjoy the experience myself, without attempting to take a blurry photograph on my phone. We’ve transited for a four days, and as we approached the first science station, all the commotion began.

A whole week of scientific work. I feel like I’ve learned more about oceanography in the last week than in last year of college. There is so much to learn, so much to see, everyday is like a semester of material crammed into twelve hours. My day starts around five o’clock in the morning, with a vigorous reading of instrument manuals. For me Its much easier to spent hours upon hours reading while at sea than while on land. Maybe perhaps its due to regimented lifestyle while at sea, or less responsibilities, or maybe just because there is just simply much less of distractions.

By nine o’clock there is an updated plan for the days operations. So far I’ve had the opportunity to finally see mooring buoy retrieval and deployment. The amount of calculations and hard manual labor that mooring buoys require is astonishing. Every little detail has to be accounted for; From the location of everyone on deck to the position of a small temperature probe installed on the wire. But I’m getting ahead of myself. In general, a mooring buoy is an anchored buoy with a wire that stretches from the ocean floor to the near surface of the ocean. The wire is riddled with different sensors, mostly pressure and conductivity sensors, temperature probes, ADCP units, and numerous other instruments depending on the aspect of ocean properties the scientific group is interested. The current scientific project utilizes many acoustic instruments, with a sound source on one of the moorings and receivers installed on others. Moorings themselves are designed and redesigned every year to account for different environments and missions. During the morning briefing the course of action is planned out for the day’s operation. From what I’ve seen; There is no usual course of action for a mooring operation. There is a general plan of how the operation is going to go, but the circumstances are constantly evolving, often with sudden, abrupt changes to the procedures. It takes years of experience to understand every possible detail affecting the operation. Some of the scientific personal have been doing mooring operations for over forty years. After all the planning has been discussed, and risk assessment has been agreed upon, the scientists and BM’s (Boatswains Mate’s) go out on deck. I do not have to be there, but I join the science party on deck anyway. I really enjoy working on deck, the differences between the coast guard and scientists are quickly dissolved during difficult tasks as such. A mooring operation can take anywhere from four to eight hours. Most of the crew rotate their positions with shift changes, scientists stay out for the entirety of the operation. After all is set and done, the ship departs the mooring and transits to the next station. There are many steps that I’m leaving out, partly because I don’t fully understand them yet, and partly because even though they are important, they aren’t exciting to write about. In fact, there is so much going on between the science lab, technicians office, and deck department that I have yet to learn and see. By now I feel comfortable with my duties and responsibilities, I would say I’m rather invested in the work we’re doing out here. Day by day I feel more and more comfortable working with the STARC, even though I am new to this industry.

On a sunny Thursday morning we set sail across the Bering Sea. The final preparations for the cruise involved tying down all science equipment and double checking inventory list for everything that we might need while out at sea. The ship was brought off the dock by a tug boat and we began our voyage towards the Arctic. 

First day of a scientific cruise is one of the busiest times for a Marine Technician. There is a multitude of onboard continuous instruments that need to be started as the ship sets sail. The physical oceanography instruments include: ADCP, single-beam echosounder, multibeam echosounder, meteorological sensors, gravimeter. There is also a couple of chemical oceanography sensors, such as atmospheric pCO2 system and an underway seawater pCO2 system. My interest align much more with the physical measurements, specifically the ADCP and echosounders. 

ADCP stands for Acoustic Doppler Current Profiler. The task of this instrument is to measure ocean currents while the ship is underway. While at sea, I’ve been spending my time familiarizing myself with this instrument by meticulously reading the training manuals provided by STARC as well as asking for a theoretical background from some of the scientists aboard. The two ADCP systems that are installed on the Healy are set two sound frequencies, one is set at 150 kiloHertz the other at 75 kiloHertz. THe lower the frequency allows the ADCP sensor to sample at a greater depth, while the higher frequency provides much more precise measurements of surface currents. One of the unique opportunities of studying instrumentation while at sea, is to immediately apply my knowledge to ongoing projects.While the ADCP is used for collecting ocean current, the multibeam echosounder is the instrument most people think of when talking about ocean surveying.The Multibeam Echosounder is also an acoustic instrument, but it is used for mapping the ocean floor. Colloquially known as bathymetry, or the topographic map of the ocean floor. The software on board allows for real time view of the bathymetry as the ship passes through a region. One of the responsibilities of STARC, and most marine technician in general, is to have round the clock monitoring of the system and data to guarantee accurate bathymetry data collection. Much of the work that the STARC team conducts is based in the computer lab, with many routine checks of instruments throughout the ship. Often times I feel overwhelmed by the amount of information presented to me, but so far I’ve been able to keep up with what’s going on. There are many additional challenges and problems that come up during work in such environments such as the Bering Sea.

The Bering sea is exactly like I’ve read in books; cold, rainy and gloomy. Yet there is something beautiful about such a bleak place. The difficulty of the environment is highly reflected in the science operation planning. Every little detail is talked over between members of the science party, technicians and Coast Guard personnel. In addition, the STARC Coordinator is adamant on recording all ongoing projects and methods. In my eyes the database of all methods provides a business model for conduction scientific operations in this environment. I’ve sailed on a couple scientific research vessels before, but I’ve never seen such a high level of planning and coordination. The STARC team definitely takes pride in there work, with meticulous planning and record keeping of everything they do. I find myself working more than the 12 hour shift assigned to me, just to see as much as possible of the work done at sea. We are currently in transit, but in a couple of days we will arrive at our first mooring station. 

Unlike most people flying into Dutch Harbor, I had no flight delays or troubles getting to such a remote place as the island of Unalaska. The two towns Dutch Harbor and Unalaska are only separated by a bridge, and the two names are used interchangeably when refering to the this island. There is not much here, besides a hotel and a couple of restaurants. Yet, the scenery of Dutch Harbor is mesmerizing. Bald eagles are a common sight, often perched up on street lights and telephone poles. Along the the Coast Guard dock is Ballyhoo hill, which has some of the best views in town. There is a multitude of WWII era bunkers scattered thoughout the hill which are a great place of refuge and shelter from the wind. At the top of Ballyhoo ridge, one can see the glaciers on nearby mountains and pods of whales in the harbor below. Upon my descend downhill I began to appriciate the remoteness of the area. Just a week ago I was in Miami, surrounded by concrete buildings and endless traffic. Now I’m in Dutch Harbor, surrounded by wildlife and endless nature. 

I had boarded the Healy the next day after my arrival, shortly after the ship had tied off at the dock. My first thought when I saw the ship was awe at just how massive it was in comparison to other ships I’ve been on. I was greeted by Coast Guard and STARC personnel. STARC stands for the Scientific Technician support in the ARCtic. They are a third party government contractor based out of Oregon State University and Scripps Institute of Oceanography. As one of the Coast Guard Chief’s put it “STARC is the estranged cousin onboard” they are not part of the crew, yet not really scientists either. Yet, they are an essential part of the mission, providing technical assitnace to the science party and running the onboard instuments for underway data collection. Unlike the science party, which changes with each cruise, the STARC technicians are a continues presence onboard the Healy. 

Currently there is only three of us, we are still waiting for the science party and our STARC supervisors. I’m the only MATE intern for this mission, which is fine. Part of leaving college and entering the work force is getting used to being the youngest team member. I’m looking forward to this cruise, the Arctic Ocean is awaits us.