As the title suggests, it’s all about ice, ice everywhere.
Operations continue as we venture deeper into the ice, and I find myself on deck as a line handler on the crane. Being a part of these operations, getting the REMUS and their other instruments out of the water, is always challenging, rewarding, and a great experience. Our Bosun and deck crew are amazing, and they always get the job done, even in single-digit weather with a -12 degree Celsius wind chill. This is definitely the coldest I have ever experienced, even with the mustang suit.
Apart from my daily duties, we are nearing the end of the cruise and internship, and now I get to work on more side projects. I’m focused on gaining more experience with 3D printing and designing. So, naturally, I found a mini version of the REMUS (left) that we’ve been deploying and recovering for a month, and I printed it. He’s adorable and ive started to paint it (it’s a work in progress!). I also was able to print a surprise birthday gift for my dad (on the right) since I am going to be on the boat for his birthday. He reads these blogs so surprise! Happy Birthday Dad! I’ll see you soon.
I also get to practice some more complicated soldering techniques since we have all the equipment.
Between all the fun projects, I celebrated Halloween for the first time on a ship, which was very enjoyable. Everyone was excited for Halloween because we knew the chef was hiding all the candy somewhere. On Halloween morning, it was like Christmas because on each table, there was a huge bowl of different types of candy. All the chocolate was gone by the afternoon; it was like the candy hunger games. I’m not kidding. Once again sharing our pumpkins below that the crew and I made to celebrate. You can also see more of the halloween decorations that were in the mess hall in the background. And lastly i wanted to share my family’s small ofrenda we did this year for dia de los muertos since I missed it.
As mentioned earlier, as we approach the back half of the trip, we need to prepare for the deployment of the big buoy we have on board. It’s enormous, weighing almost 6,000 pounds, and it’s an awkward lift. I attended the first meeting (out of the two we will have) that lasted about an hour, discussing the logistics of safely lifting this massive buoy off the ground. It will undoubtedly be a challenge, and since I’m new, I won’t be part of the lifting team. This means I get to stay warm and watch the entire lift, which promises to be an impressive endeavor. While still attending meetings, ice briefings, and training sessions (including ship safety jeopardy), we performed our first deep CTD cast of the trip. I took part in launching and recovering, as well as keeping an eye on the winch to ensure it didn’t coil in on itself. We went to approximately 3780 meters.
Operations continue every day like clockwork, with each person having their specific role. I usually serve as a line handler for the crane. As we repeat the process, we continue to refine and make changes, and it goes smoothly every time, which has been nice. However, on this second-to-last night before we headed further into the thicker ice and farther north, into the upper 70 degrees North, we encountered a malfunction. We were lowering our AUV over the backside of the ship with our A-frame, and suddenly, the hydraulics malfunctioned, with fluid spraying like a fountain. It seemed that a gasket had frozen and broken. So, we had to halt all operations and check each other to ensure we didn’t have any hydraulic fluid all over us. Everyone was fine, and the captain called for an immediate stop, but we had to get the AUV back over the side and pivot to use the crane instead.
Amidst all these operations, I had a strong desire to learn more about sea ice navigation. I had the opportunity to do a full shift with the chief mate on the bridge, steering the boat, navigating through ice ridges, and learning about sea ice radar reading. It was an incredible experience, as I got to drive a 260 ft polar-class vessel! It’s undoubtedly one of the top 10 life experiences for me. I wish I could share the video because the chief mate started to play Pirates of the Carribean music for me as I was driving the ship. Im at the helm lookng out the window at the spotlights and steering by hand. It was terrifying and awesome.
So, with all the deployments and recoveries we’ve been doing, we knew at some point, the scientific team would conduct their ‘dress rehearsal day’ for their AUVs. We didn’t know exactly when it would happen, but when I woke up (my roommate is a scientist), she told me that ‘today was the day!’ they would pull out all the stops. This was the final test before we headed up north to the upper 70s, where they would launch it, and it would remain under the ice for the entire year. Everyone was in high spirits, thinking we were finally moving closer to one of our last mission objectives before we transit to the upper 70s, drop off everything, and start preparing for the journey home. Little did we know that their dress rehearsal day would turn into the biggest operation of the entire trip, something we hadn’t anticipated. It quickly went downhill.
Their dress rehearsal transformed into something known as the Long Walk. It doesn’t happen often if the ship and crew can help it, but sometimes it’s necessary, as we discovered today.
We found ourselves in a position in the ice where we thought the open water would hold and not completely freeze over, but we were wrong. The ice pressed in from all sides. This wouldn’t normally be a problem, but we had an AUV in the water that we needed to recover. Unfortunately, it became entirely trapped under the ice and was malfunctioning, causing it to swim further and further away from the ship. We couldn’t move too much, risking hitting the AUV. So, we had to wait in the dark on deck and watch as a flickering light under the ice blinked at us, trying to come closer. It was beeping, trying to alert us to its location. It was a distressing sight and the scientists had it beeping as loud as it could, yet we could still barely hear it. The ice was at least 2 feet thick.
In this situation, the only thing we can do is send someone out into the dark to walk on the ice with saws and tools. They would have to cut through the ice to create a hole large enough to clip the AUV to the crane, allowing us to pull both the AUV and the person out. When we realized what was happening, the captain, Bosun, and Chief Mate had to decide who would go out onto the ice to perform this task, and the chief mate volunteered. We had emergency sleds ready for him, lowered over the side. Back-up team members were prepared, suited up in case they needed to go out and assist the chief mate if he fell through the ice or if something worse happened. It took the entire crew and most of the science team to ensure every safety measure was in place, with polar bear guards on alert, before the chief mate descended onto the ice in the pitch-black darkness. When I say pitch-black, I’m not exaggerating; you can’t see anything beyond the ship’s lights. You only hear the crunching and shearing sounds of the ice colliding.
I, once again, served as a line handler, and aided in hoisting his safety equipment over the side of the ship for him to use. Our captain made a final attempt to get as close to the AUV as possible to minimize the chief mate’s walk. The captain’s driving skills were impeccable, and he covered half the distance. The chief mate then climbed over the side of the ship on a metal ladder. As he descended, he reminded everyone of our responsibilities in case he fell through the ice or became trapped beneath it with the strong current in the area.
He ventured over the side, and the entire ship and crew fell completely silent, holding our breaths as he descended the ladder and got on his emergency sled. We turned off our lights, and then we spotted it—the blinking lights of the AUV, trying to break through the ice surface, accompanied by its loud beeping. As a last-ditch effort, the scientists hit the command for the AUV to come home (back to the ship), and miraculously, it worked. The AUV started swimming towards us, and we saw its lights drawing closer. It reached the ship, and we handed down ice picks and spears over the side while our chief mate hammered away at the ice. However, the ice wasn’t breaking; it even broke one of the tools. In a desperate attempt, we dropped the 600-pound crane on it, but it remained unmoved.
My mentor, Bern, found a huge ice saw in the tool shop, and that did the trick. We finally saw the AUV beneath the ice, but we weren’t done yet. Because of the boat’s position and the strong current, we had to be extremely careful not to hit our chief mate and the AUV with the ship. Our chief mate hooked it and within seconds he got back onto his sled. When we heard that click, like a normal procedure, I was attached to the crane hook, ensuring that the hook and the AUV didn’t swing as it was hauled over the side. However, this time, I had never pulled a rope faster in my entire life. I hoisted the AUV back onto the ship, and we finally had it on board. Our chief mate was next, and our captain was there to pull him back to the ship with a safety rope attached to the chief mate. Once the chief mate was close enough, he climbed the ladder and was safely back on board. Cheers erupted from the crew, the scientists, and from the bridge over the radios. We had successfully recovered our chief mate and the AUV together, safe and sound.
The only thing left to do was get the emergency sled back on board. My rope was once again attached to the crane hook, and I hauled the emergency sled back onto the ship. The crew unhooked my rope, and we went back to business as usual, but everyone’s adrenaline was still running high. I couldn’t sleep for a couple of hours, so I kept looking at all the photos and videos of our chief mate on the ice, ive shared a few I have below. In one of the pictures that was taken of the crew watching, you can see me in the back hoisting my fist in the air because our chief mate found the AUV and had broken it free. We had successfully completed an long walk.
Now, we’re heading to the upper northern latitudes to complete the last part of the mission—dropping off the AUV and the buoy. We are currently at 75 degrees North and 142 degrees West on our way to do just that, breaking through the ice. Then, we’ll start our journey home. It’s hard to believe it’s almost over. Thanks, as always, for reading.
Mari
