It has been a busy second week. This week I finally got to see the launch and recovery process of Alvin, which was amazing. The weather was ideal at first, with very calm seas—almost flat for the first couple of days, which is uncharacteristic of the Juan de Fuca Ridge. Later on, the swell returned to double digits, which took some getting used to. Nevertheless, I had the opportunity to get my hands dirty with the pre- and post-dive operations alongside the mechanical team.
Most mornings during pre-dive, I helped flush the lines of any air or water with either Carnation, hydraulic, or Brey oil, depending on the system. This ensures proper pressure compensation in the junction boxes that house the electronics for the ballast systems, communications, etc. Brey oil, I learned, is used instead of Carnation to prevent arcing in electrical boxes that draw more current. I also helped load the sub after the pilot finished their pre-dive checks inside the sphere. During this time, I handed down CO₂ scrubbers, towels to remove condensation, blankets for comfort (since it gets quite cold), and lunch for the pilot and observers.
The sphere is very well taken care of. Before each dive, all passengers must shower and wear clothing made of natural fibers to ensure safety. Synthetic materials can be flammable and may wedge themselves in the window seals, which play a crucial role in maintaining the pressure boundary. Even when the hatch is inspected in the morning, the person conducting the inspection must be free of oil and dirt to maintain cleanliness. After the sub is launched, we scrub the hangar and refill the oil containers so that everything is ready for any evening maintenance.
Post-dive operations can be a little fast-paced. As soon as the Launch Coordinator indicates the sub is secured on deck, we quickly rinse down the entire sub to prevent corrosion, cover the windows, and remove access panels to begin inspections. I always do a general “mech inspection,” which involves walking around the sub and checking for any loose bolts, wiring, or abnormalities. This past week we had water intrusion issues with the port main ballast blow box. We spent a few late nights draining and pressure testing the box, as well as testing the check valve and bladder for leaks. Unfortunately, we still haven’t found the culprit, but hopefully by the next update I’ll have an answer.
Additionally, there was water in the port thruster—which is bad, but also good for me, because I got to help take it apart. First, we swapped the motor for a ready spare so the sub was dive-ready, then made the repairs. We drained the motor of hydraulic oil, replaced a damaged O-ring and crane seal, and then carefully refilled the motor. This was fun but tedious, since every bit of air introduced into the system has to be removed. You wouldn’t think it would be much, but it is—so we had to slowly fill the motor using a tube while shaking it to release all the air.
All in all, it was a great week. I was able to watch the recovery process from the bridge and see the captain’s role in retrieving the sub, and I even got to check out some of the critters scientists collected in a bio box from the hydrothermal vents!
It feels kind of odd to say that it’s only been two weeks since I left, but I found that being on a vessel tends to screw up your sense of time. I’m sure the other members of the crew agree with me.
We’ve had a total of five dives so far, and dredged up plenty of interesting things. The dives for yesterday and the day before were cancelled due to unfavorable weather conditions, but it went somewhat back to normal today so we got to have a pilot-in-training dive, albeit the deployment was later than usual.
There’s a wide variety of samples that we collect on this specific cruise – sometimes we take water samples of the hydrothermal vents using isobaric gas-tight samplers (IGTs) which help keep contents pressurized when the scientists are doing experiments on the nitrogen-cycling properties of the microbes in the water. Sometimes we also bring up freaky little creatures like tube worms and this scale worm in the picture below!
A scale worm we dredged from the Endeavour hydrothermal vents
Depending on what kind of samples we want to collect, naturally we would have to change tools for the job. The basket in front of the HOV Alvin typically holds all the equipment needed to complete the dive objectives of the science team for a dive, and it is our duty as the maintainers and technicians of Alvin to swap these out as needed per dive.
Us handling a Universal Fluid Obtainer (UFO) on the basket
As an intern, my daily routine usually consists of getting up early start helping the team with pre-dive checks – making sure that cameras are striped, calibrated and properly cleaned, ensuring parts on the HOV are secured, refilling CO2 scrubbers, etc. We roll Alvin out on the tracks leading to the A-Frame at the aft of the ship, where we attach stacks of ballasting weights to it and put the pilot and observers in before we send it into the water.
Sending Alvin out using the hydraulic-powered A-Frame
Once the HOV is in the water, swimmers on a smaller boat will go to it and do some last minute checkups like unhooking safety lines and verifying communications are good to go. The phone the swimmers use to talk to the passengers of the sub is actually not waterproof, so while they’re verifying comms they also have to be very careful not to get it wet. The design is kind of counterintuitive, but the fact that the phone does not need to be powered independently makes the drawbacks worth it. Still, it is pretty comedic to see the swimmers make their way back to the little boat raising what looks like an old landline phone above them the whole time.
Almost done with deployment. Boat and swimmers.
After the sub goes down, we have someone in the top lab to monitor GPS position and to maintain communications with it every so often. Us interns usually take this time to clean up our messes from the morning of deployment, and then it’s time to muck around until we get the signal to get ready for retrieval.
swabbin timeBringing him back in
During retrieval, we finish up with post-dive tasks like hosing down the sub to wash off the saltwater and securing him back in the hangar for safety and in case bad weather starts rocking the boat around. We usually get some sort of report from the pilot about equipment or components that didn’t work so well and may need to be fixed or replaced, and our evenings are pretty much occupied with post-dive and fixing up the sub for tomorrow’s dive.
Of course, if the weather conditions are unsafe for swimmers or pilots we may have to call off some of our dive days. The swells were pretty big yesterday and the day before that, and we used the time not diving to finish up any maintenance that we’ve been putting off – fixing of lasers, replacement of important wires to the propellers that route inside the sub, things like that.
The weather’s getting a little rougher…
I’m learning lots of things out here. I haven’t needed to do any of this in my daily work, but the crew and the Alvin team taught me a whole array of knot-tying techniques which I’m sure is going to come in handy someday…? During downtime I also try to see what the other departments are up to, like bothering the scientists in the lab to find out what they’re doing with the water samples we bring them, or pestering the bridge about navigation. It’s been lots of fun, but it’s also starting to feel like I already spent a month or two at sea. Time is not real on this vessel.
My second week on the Healy! And still no science- mostly. Our long, long transit nears conclusion, but we’re still in the scientific doldrums. Thus far the science party’s just been preparing their equipment, although a couple small buoys have been literally tossed over the side with zero fanfare. If this sounds unenthralling, it’s anything but.
WE’RE IN THE BERING STRAIT!!! The last few days in the Bering Sea have been beautiful. Not clear, but the reflection of the hazy sun on gray waters turns the sea into quicksilver, and if you’ve read my last blog post, then you know how I feel about the nights here. Looking over the prow, I can see fat puffins failing to get airborne as they half flap, half flail away from the ship. Moon jellies, lion’s mane, and sea nettle jellyfish zoom by us just below the ocean’s surface with surprising frequency.
This morning we passed Nome, and I’ve been watching OpenCPN, which tracks our ship, as we neared the Diomedes and the narrowest stretch of sea in our journey north. We were still ten miles away when Brendon encouraged me to look on deck. I bundled up, and was astounded to see Little Diomede to our port side, Big Diomede peering out of the gloom behind it. We’re quickly entering fog, but the haze only consumed the island tops in that moment. Fairway Rock, or Ugiiyaq, south of the Diomedes, shone in a runaway beam of sunlight.
Although it’s been four years since I moved to Alaska, the sense of wonderment still hasn’t eased. Climbing frozen waterfalls, watching Denali’s shadow piece the clouds during sunset, or even just dodging a moose on campus strikes me with awe and disbelief, with a Wow! I’m really in Alaska!
I got that sense as I stood on the flight deck, the last retreating rays of golden sun giving the world a hazy, heavenly feel. Disbelief at where I’ve come in life, from the dry desert, and immense gratitude to everyone who encouraged and helped me get here. I wished they could join me as I stood on the edge of the world, sailing farther north than dreams could reach. These Wow! I’m really going to the Arctic! feelings strike every time I step out on deck, and I treasure this experience and everything it offers.
And while the science party waits in anticipation for our approach to their sites, STARC has been active: troubleshooting, repairing, and, for me, getting the hang of things. Our CTD checklist is complete. Niskins have been re-gasketing, springs re-tensioned, bottles re-placed when nothing else worked. Brandon (not Brendon) walked me through the tech of the CTD, and him, Cora and I teamed up for a final blitz, rewiring and reattaching sensors.
An attempt at a polar bear I crocheted out of scrap wool for Cora. Omen of things to come?
We also tackled disassembling the multicore a few days ago. Unfortunately, the multicoring aspect of this cruise was cancelled last minute, but the multicore was already assembled on deck. It sat there like a giant spider on the back deck, gray and mourning the Arctic sediment it wouldn’t collect, for a week or so before we decided it was time to take it apart. Brandon, Cora, me and the deck crew attacked it in a flurry of activity one calm morning, and within a couple hours it was was returned to its coffin-like wooden storage boxes. I’ve done a lot of sample collected from multicores, so it was cool to get familiar with the hardware itself.
Goodbye, multicore! It was nippy out so I broke out my froglaclava. / Cora McQuaid
I’ve been getting familiar with the sonars lately, watching as a land based technician remotely battles the EK80, a bottom-finding sonar determined to freeze when synced externally with other sonars. I read a short manual for our multibeam, but mostly have been playing with the Knudsen Echosounder, which gives a two-dimensional profile of the seafloor as we pass over. On a previous cruise, I’ve used it (as in watched, while a martech adjusted the settings) to make crisp sub-bottom profiles, but at our high speeds, when it isn’t the primary sonar, the Knudsen doesn’t look so great. So much so, in fact, that Brendon was concerned something was wrong- maybe heave compensation? Brandon and I traced the “serial string data” of the ship’s heave all the way to the Seapath 330, one of the positioning programs, but couldn’t find an error, and we were finally forced to admit it’s probably just our speed, and the fact the Knudsen doesn’t do to well in the shallow, muddy Bering. We won’t be here much longer, and I look forward to learning the sonar settings in deeper waters- and ice!
And just like that folks, we’re back at it again! This time, I hopped aboard a flight headed for Gulfport, Mississippi! The flash temperature change from the arctic to the deep south has me feeling like a defrosting lizard, but that won’t stop me!
Ahh, what a lovely sight- I finally get to join the boat from a pier this time! My previous two journeys started with a smallboat ride and a sketchy climb up the Jacob’s ladder. This is the R/V Point Sur. Though I have not sailed on this ship before, I am all too familiar with it. The R/V Cape Hatteras, the ship I sailed on for my education, is an exact copy of the Point Sur; sister ships! It feels familiar and foreign all at once.
Work had already begun by the time I arrived. The crew was set about fabricating some metal mounting gear for the equipment that the scientists had brought on board. Crew member Todd will be wielding an oxyacetylene torch, ready for action!
The night is always young onboard a ship. As many people went off ship for dinner, I stayed behind to get settled in properly. No later than everyone left, an engine room alarm began blaring! I found this light blinking red, and sent a message out to the responsible parties. All was well, but you have to stay on your toes at all times! There is truly no telling when things can go downhill.
This cruise is focused on ROV operations. The remotely operated vehicle (ROV) will be sent to the seafloor, to collect samples and take a look around the area. Deep sea corals are the main focus for their research!
On the deck, you can see the configuration of their gear; Left is the ROV, which is attached to the yellow tether line. On the right, you have a weight package that is sent to the bottom to help control and sense the ROV. All three of these pieces are deployed together and work in tandem to complete the dive!
Our last night in port gave us a lovely sunset as we made our final preparations for sailing out to sea. We set our ‘sails’ out at exactly midnight, for a somber march out of the bay. Leaving behind the glow of the city for the inky black of the open ocean. It’s good to be back out at sea.
No time for poetry, you have a steaming plate of cable spaghetti to deal with! As an older ship, there are many bygone years of outdated technology being replaced. In the process of revitalizing the equipment, some cables get… let’s just say left behind! We installed some new monitors on the bridge for the captain to keep tabs on the ship, which meant running HDMI cables to each one of them. Many hours spent detangling, and the monitors are up and running perfectly.
Another facet of science on this trip is EDNA. Using the fancy gizmos and gadgets you see attached to our CTD, the scientists can extract environmental DNA from the water. Meaning, they can tell what critters went through the water! They can compare this data with ROV footage.
Speaking of ROV footage! Once the ROV was deployed and settled on the bottom, the real work began. Many eyes spent many hours watching the continuous stream of video. An incredible sight to behold! On it’s first descent to the seafloor, around 500 meters down, we landed right near this handsome fella- I have roughly identified it as a Gulf Hake, or Urophycis cirrata. I am by no means a biologist, but that is my semi-educated guess!
The ROV had just lighted onto the seafloor, when the operators noticed something was amiss. The systems weren’t operating as they should, and the team made the executive decision to recover immediately. Unfortunately, their suspicion was well met. A connection point on one of the attached components failed, meaning it completely flooded with water. This melted all of the components and wiring on the inside, which is something that is not repairable at sea.
After a few brainstorming sessions, adjustments to the ROV, and more than a couple prayers, the team found a temporary solution. The ROV was set up excluding the flooded components, which makes it usable but with greatly reduced function. Though it is less than ideal, it does at least mean the cruise can continue rather than heading back to port immediately.
On the second dive, the ROV was able to collect a few small coral samples and bring them back to the surface. The ‘arm’ you see pictured has an apposable hand that can be controlled from the ship, and a little container to drop samples into.
My mentor for this trip, Grace, instructed me during the first few CTD casts, and trusted me to operate the computer for the next one! Though I may have forgotten to take off my hardhat, we successfully recovered another batch of water samples. The water we bring up will be used for sampling and for storing the live coral recovered with the ROV.
During this cast, we found that bottle #9 did not close at all, meaning it came back completely empty. We investigated, and determined the bottle to be operating smoothly. The next step was to ensure that the firing mechanism worked! We disassembled the housing, and found corrosion on the magnet responsible for releasing the lid of bottle nine. A quick scrape removed the corroded material, and a deck test proved that the issue was solved. Huzzah! If only every problem was so simple…
Yikes… This is the interior of the flooded compartment from the ROV. As it turns out, delicate electronics don’t like saltwater! This not so simple problem could not be solved while offshore, as the parts and personnel necessary are simply not on board. A integral part of working at sea is repairing what you can, and working around what you can’t!
Even with some non functioning parts, the ROV process is still well underway. After each deployment and recovery, the science team jumps into action. They remove the sample compartments from the ROV housing as quickly as possible, as coral is extremely sensitive to temperature fluctuations, and they want their samples live. Once they are inside, they separate the samples into individual holding spaces, full of fresh seawater saved from the most recent CTD cast. These tubs go directly into a refrigerator, where the temperature is set to the same as their natural environment. It’s cold in the deep sea! This gives the animals the best possible chance at survival for testing and studying.
Oh hey, I know her! During ROV operations, my job has been between operating the A frame, and adding tension to the winch wire (pictured). This ensures the wire spools correctly, and makes every elses lives a bit easier. Well, my first week on the Point Sur has been busy and very exciting! I’ll be out here getting grease everywhere and pulling the line tight, while the scientists decipher hours of ROV footage; I know you’re jealous, but fear not! There is to be a public broadcast from the ROV team. Please join us to see some of the action live!
I just wrapped up my first week with the Alvin Team, and it’s been amazing in more ways than one. Upon arriving in Oregon, I finally got to meet the team in person. Everyone has been wonderfully patient and kind, showing me the ropes of both their operations and, of course, the engineering behind Alvin. I also met the crew of the RV Atlantis during a Labor Day picnic and cookout they hosted on the dock before we set sail.
This week, I was introduced to the sub and its critical systems. Since Alvin hadn’t been operated for about a month, we spent three days on maintenance, which I was able to observe and help with when possible. Some of the tasks I participated in included ensuring pressure compensation in the junction boxes and tubing that house communication cables, pressure testing the check valves on the main and variable ballast systems, and installing the seawater filter for the variable ballast. I also learned how the team inventories and stores spare parts, as well as the strict protocols for replacing them. Their attention to detail is remarkable—every component must meet precise standards, and even the slightest thread damage can make a part unsuitable for dive operations. I also witnessed the installation process of the batteries; they provide 120 volts to the sub. We rolled out Alvin to expose a hatch between the tracks in the hangar that allows access to the hold where the batteries are stored and maintained. The batteries were lifted into the sub using hydraulics.
In preparation for the first engineering dive, I helped remove the coral-cutting claw from the robotic arm and replace it with a three-pronged gripper more suitable for this expedition, collecting high-temperature water samples at hydrothermal vents. We also held the “weight party,” where we stacked steel plates to aid Alvin’s descent on the Juan de Fuca Ridge. Unfortunately, our first dive was canceled after a recovery buoy detached from a Canadian mooring line. Since we were nearby, the RV Atlantis was asked to recover it, which we did.
Even so, I’ve already learned so much about plumbing and mechanics in just one week, and I’m excited to see the data and pictures that Alvin collects after all our dives are complete!
Week 1 is already over, and it still feels kind of surreal to be out here. There have been so many exciting things and interesting people that I’ve encountered that it’s difficult to recount them all in one post without boring everyone who reads this, so I’ll show the most important things.
I met up with the Alvin team after flying down to Portland from Seattle, where we drove down to Newport where the Atlantis was docked together as a group. When we got there, I got to take a quick tour of the premises. As someone who’s never been on a research vessel, the Atlantis felt pretty average from the outside but was way bigger on the inside – rooms and halls were pretty spacious to move around in. Onboard amenities were much more fleshed-out than I thought they would be (there was a punching bag in the science hold?!), and the galley cooks up meals way better than I ever did in my entire college career. Shoutout to the cooks who greet me by name every meal.
First time seeing the Atlantis!I WILL be wailing on this punching bag during my time off
As for the HOV Alvin itself, it was also pretty big – maybe the size of a small whale or an orca perhaps. During our pre-cruise maintenance and housekeeping work I got to walk around the top of the sub and climb into the sphere where the pilot sits. Alvin recently got a refitting recently with an ergonomic seating area, and I have to say it was decently comfortable in there.
Me with the HOV Alvin in the upper portion of the hangar.This is one of the submarines of all time.
Most of my work on the sub has been checking in on little things like searching for air or water bubbles in the tubes of oil inside the HOV or draining said oil from junction boxes in the front so that we can wire scientific instruments to the electronics systems. I helped with loading provisions and stores to feed us during the cruise onto the ship and checked the windows on the sub for scratches or blemishes. The two most exciting events that I helped out with were replacing one of the fridge-sized lead acid batteries and distributing and stacking steel plates which will eventually be used for ballasting.
To access the batteries in the first place, we had to move Alvin forward in its hangar to operate a crane that would open the hatch in the floor that led to the room with the battery in it, which was process that took a little time to complete. The battery that was supposed to go into the Alvin didn’t come with a casing on it, so part of our duties during the pre-cruise was to get the casing off the old battery and slide it onto the new one – main issue being that the casing is basically filled with oil. One aspect of this job I learned very quickly was that literally everything is covered in oil since it helps mitigate the effects of pressure in the deep ocean, and that I should give up on the prospect of having any unstained clothes on this cruise.
One of Alvin’s lead acid batteries returning to its designated slot via hydraulic lift.
The stacked steel plates are used for the sub used as ballast to control its buoyancy underwater, and it dives down or resurfaces by jettisoning some amount of these steel plates that we attach to it. As such, we had to prepare several stacks since every dive would have at least 3 stacks of plates weighing more than 300 pounds per stack. Picking up these rusty steel plates all morning was a decent workout for my forearms. I also got rust all over my clothes, but I brought all the clothes whose safety I didn’t care about so it was expected. It’s for that grimy mechanical engineer aesthetic anyway.
Fellow MATE intern and coworkers chatting during the weight party.
We left Newport yesterday on the 5th. Due to the size of the vessel the boat rocks pretty slowly, which is nice to fall asleep to but kind of annoying when you’re doing fine, detailed work with small instruments and tiny probes. It’s better than the smaller boats I’ve been on though. Seeing the vast expanse of water on every side of you with nothing to keep you company except the ship and the gray clouds overhead feels kind of surreal. Liminal, even.
The views of Newport, Oregon.
I lied about that last part, actually. There were other things keeping us company – there was a massive pod of dolphins that swam up to the ship as it was traveling to our dive site, and they were just frolicking and being silly on either side of the ship and under the bow, racing the ship and jumping around. We guessed that they were Pacific white-sided dolphins based on their coloring and our location. Genuinely one of the most breathtaking experiences I’ve ever had.
My poor attempts at capturing the moment.
I’ve been having a lot of fun the last few days, and I expect to have even more fun when we actually get around to Alvin dives tomorrow. It’s around 9pm when I post this, and I do have to wake up at 5am for deployment preparations, so I’m going to leave it at that for the time being. Will update next week.
Hello everyone! I’m Katie Wade, a recent Ocean Engineering graduate from the Florida Institute of Technology. Soon I’ll be heading to Oregon to join the WHOI Alvin Team on the RV Atlantis for a research cruise along the Juan de Fuca Ridge, where I’ll be working as a Mechanical Engineering Intern.
I grew up in Merritt Island, Florida, which fostered a deep love, respect, and curiosity for the ocean. For me, nothing beats a day on the water, so I’ve always hoped to blend fieldwork into my career. I never expected that pursuit would lead to such an incredible adventure—I’m deeply grateful to the Alvin Team and the MATE Program for this opportunity.
During my undergrad, I spent two years at the Center for Corrosion and Biofouling Control (CCBC), where I worked in a multidisciplinary environment that deepened my understanding of how marine life intersects with engineering. I also helped design and build an ROV as part of a team project, which inspired me to pursue underwater robotics. So, I’m excited to continue growing both my ecological knowledge and technical skills on this cruise to become a better engineer!
Here are some pictures of me with other students from the CCBC and working on deck the RV Hogarth during a marine field project last summer.
Hello from the Bering Sea! I’m breaking from my weekly update plan to monologue a little bit about the quiet beauty of the ocean and the little things that make being at sea an experience like no other.
I’m in the process of waking up earlier and earlier to adjust to my 6 AM – 6 PM shift, and this is the first morning I wake up and start my shift before breakfast. I haven’t quite figured out a direct indoor route from the stateroom I share with Cora to the STARC computer lab, so I usually step out on deck and descend a stairway that feels more like a ladder to the correct deck. This early in the morning, the sun hasn’t risen yet, and it’s completely dark. The Healy goes dark at night, which means no outdoor floodlights or illuminated walkways save for dim red lamps, which are so subtle it feels like my approach to the lab relies more on muscle memory. The ship is enveloped in fog, blocking any moon or starlight or reflection from the seawater, and as I descend the staircase, the inky blackness might as well be space. And I, my center of gravity rising and falling as the ship heaves through the waves, could be floating out there in the vacuum.
An animation I made on a previous cruise.
Even in the middle of the Alaskan wilderness or Arizona desert, the darkest night is a cramped storage closet, full of leaves or sand or small creatures or just life compared to the sense of pure emptiness you get in the sea at night. It’s a feeling of complete aloneness, utter freedom, where it feels like the borders of reality are a little bit fuzzy, and maybe we’ve accidentally traveled a millennia and become a ghost ship in some distant future.
Descending the steep stairway, I near the water level, and from here the splashing of the waves dominates any lingering engine/exhaust/fan noise from higher decks. I try to discern a rhythm in the splashing, but though the rise and fall of the ship is uniform, every contact, every wave, every splash is unique, and the task is fruitless. Further aft, away from the prow of the ship, the splashing turns to hissing, as the roiling water churned up by the prow surfaces, fizzing like the Healy is a giant Alka-Seltzer tablet, bubbling away in the sea. This sound is consistent, waiting to encompass you the moment you get close enough, and it’s comforting, like holding a seashell up to your ear. I wish I could record this sound to fall asleep to every night, but the moment I leave the ship I know I’ll forget that ephemeral hissing, just strong enough for ears but too subtle, too blurry for an iPhone.
My first cruise, that planted the seed that led me to the UNOLS-MATE internship, was in the Bering. As my first watery love, something about it feels like home. I know halibut and cod drift tens of meters below us, crabs and brittle stars sifting through silty sediment. People on the coast are chasing the salmon runs, stocking chest freezers to feed themselves through the winter, and I’m sure we’re passing distant commercial fishing vessels, manned by college students and drifters and seasoned hands. This sea is cold, merciless, and unforgiving, and I know that will only intensify as we continue our journey north, to seas new to me. I know I’m just another speck in this sea, here just a moment in its aquatic eons. But the hissing bubbles whisper welcome home, and the dark, depthless night wraps me in its embrace.
I hit the deck, and am getting a little spooked by my inability to distinguish shadows from structures. On that first cruise we pulled up massive, 30+ foot jellyfish tendrils, and I’m not quite convinced there isn’t a gigantic, gelatinous leviathan waiting to pluck me from the ship as vengeance: This is for the sea nettles and moon jellies you keep yanking up on your multicore, punk! I fling myself through a door and spin into the lab, where my people, others who grasp the sea in its infinity, await, who also welcome me home.
Hi! My name is Aidan Lee, and I am one of the interns working with the electrical team of the HOV Alvin through Woods Hole Oceanographic Institution on the R/V Atlantis in early September. I’ll be boarding in Newport, Oregon after meeting with the team in Portland, and I’m excited to get to meet everyone there! I graduated with my bachelor’s degree in Electrical and Computer Engineering at the University of Washington in Seattle, and joined a remotely operated vehicles robotics team competing in the MATE ROV Competition during my time as an undergraduate. I’m looking forward to seeing what ways my technical skills from developing ROVs can apply to the HOV Alvin at sea!
Below I’ve included a few pictures of me, some of which are during the 2025 MATE ROV Competition in Alpena, Michigan. I’ve got friends on the team who have previously been MATE interns who speak very highly of the program, so I want to make the most of my experience here.
I will be back with another update in approximately another week or so. See you guys then!
And we’re off! The Healy set sail (can I say that?) Thursday, chugging down the Aleutian Chain for science tests and drills before we start cruising up north to the Arctic for our stations.
The view as we tug-boated out of port. Fun fact, Kodiak’s powered by renewable energy, mainly from these wind turbines.My very excited, blurry picture of Alaska’s only electric crane shrouded in fog. It was made possible by Kodiak’s unique grid.
But before that: I got into Kodiak Monday night, and met up with the STARC (Ship-based Technical Support in the Arctic) team mid-transition. I met Maya, Emily, and Christina as they were leaving, and Cora, Brandon, Bowman, and Brendon, my mentor, who are on the STARC team for this cruise. We got dinner, something we’d do every night in Kodiak before leaving, along with exploring different spots of coastline- getting our fix of restaurant food, nature, and solid ground before heading off for six weeks. I’ve been thinking about doing a critter count, inspired by Kaleigh’s bear count, but within five minutes of the first beach my starfish, sorry, sea star count was already astronomical.
Sights of Kodiak!Scientists recently identified a bacterium responsible for sea star wasting disease, which I think this red sea star has.
My rough wildlife count for this week, on land, was: two kingfishers, one bald eagle, endless sea stars, one dead rockfish, many sculpin, even more anemones, and a few chitons. Zero bears but I’m fine with that (I’m Alaskan, I’ve had enough!). I am hoping to see a polar bear from a very respectful distance, but Kodiak grizzlies can stay away. Please. I’m now resetting the critter count for being at sea, though I can already add four puffins and a guillemot that Cora ID’ed.
Anyway, the moment I got situated on board, work began, with me lending a novice hand as we replaced a damaged GPS cable. But the real mission of the last few days has been final repairs on some imploded CTD niskins, and equipment setup for the new science party. Most of the damaged ones have been fixed or replaced, but we had a couple that needed gaskets replaced or springs re-tensioned. On a previous cruise I’ve collected CTD water samples, so this wasn’t too unfamiliar, but then we moved to setting up a new flourometer. I’m new to sensor setup, but Brandon walked me through the CTD configuration and installed the new sensor. And then, our first CTD test cast! One niskin didn’t deploy, but other than that it went well.
So much more has happened at such a lightning speed that I can’t quite put it on paper- tours of the ship, winches, water wall, sonar, etc. I’ll go in depth on these aspects as I work with them in the upcoming weeks.
Replacing a gasket / Brandon D’Andrea
The next few days we’ll be transiting north, working on setting up all our sensors ands making sure things are running smoothly. I will be tagging along and familiarizing myself with the STARC duties onboard, and working on outlining my goals for the internship. Additionally, hoping to establish a gym routine- the gyms here (yes, plural) are well-stocked and calling my name. I brought hang board holds, and Cora and I have been trying to do pull-ups and push-ups on the hour to stay energized. On a previous cruise I trained for a half marathon. Maybe my goal this time will be a couple pull-ups.
Looking forward to everything I have to learn and share with y’all.
