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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.