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As we approached the third and final week of the voyage, I was beginning to fear that the lack of fresh vegetables and lettuce as well as limited sunlight might have a permanent effect on my psyche.  I also knew that that the chances of seeing Arctic wildlife were diminishing by the day.  So I was I was filled with mixed emotions as we wrapped up the research and began our journey home. Over the course of the trip, we had completed 13 CTD transects for 183 CTD casts and, as we headed back towards Dutch Harbor, the last few days of the cruise were spent relaxing and catching up on much needed sleep. I also finally got the chance to stand on the bridge and was lucky enough to spot several whales, most likely humpbacks, three pods of porpoise and two ringed seals, one of which was eating a large crab of it’s chest. The time also gave me the chance to reflect on how lucky I was to have had the opportunity to join the scientific crew aboard the Healy. Not many people can say that they have traveled above the Arctic Circle, cruised along the International Date Line, conquered the Gumby suit, witnessed the loss of sunlight at the rate of ten minutes/day, fallen asleep to the pitch and roll of 20 foot swells or listened to the eerie sound of miles upon miles of meter thick frozen ice being broken apart or dropped a personally decorated Styrofoam cup to the depth of 3,000m and seen it return as a perfect miniature of its original self, all while learning about and assisting with important scientific research.  Now that I am back on land, I can truly say that I will miss life onboard the Healy and would jump at the chance to return for another expedition. The experience was one that I am extremely grateful for and will be difficult to forget for all the right reasons. There are so many memories that I want to hold on to—some big, such as the confidence I built up in learning to operate the CTD or seeing the Northern Lights—others, small moments such as clumsily walking into a Conex box and scarring my forehead, thus giving inspiration for a hastily put together Halloween costume as a blind mouse. I would like to thank everyone who supported me along the way, especially, Bob Pickart, Carolina Nobre, Scott Hiller and Alex Quintero for putting up with my slow learning curve of both the CTD and the science, the US Coast Guard for providing support for important research, the MATE program for providing me with the opportunity and the science team (Tanja, Lauran, Liza, and Maria) and crew (Brian, Kevin, Mo, Gianna, V-dub, and Jeremy) for keeping me honest, helping me laugh at least once a day and appreciating the simple things.  A very special salute goes to the Coasties, who do such an amazing job operating the ship—I am in awe of their discipline and efficiency. Thank You.

Even though the Healy is a Coast Guard boat, its primary function is to provide technical and man support to Arctic scientific research. I was impressed, although not surprised, by the high number of projects that were benefitting from Healy cruise 1303. For example, from each CTD cast at least 8 different, however, related researchers were collecting important data. One of my favorite parts of the cruise were the science lectures that were given on sporadic nights throughout the trip. As someone who is just beginning a career in oceanographic research, this was an amazing opportunity to learn about different types of research that have important environmental implications.  The following are summaries of a few of the research projects aboard the boat.

Lecture 1—Breathing in: What we learn about life and death in the ocean from oxygen (Laurie Juranek—Oregon State University)

 Studying oxygen concentrations in the ocean allow researchers to track and better understand the biological and physical processes at play over a time frame as short as a few weeks to as long as several centuries.  In order to study these concentrations, Dr. Juranek establishes “water columns,” which are conceptual columns of water from surface to bottom sediments and are useful for evaluating the stratification of the thermal or chemical layers in the ocean.  Oxygen is present in these water columns as a result of both physical and biological processes; however, what primarily interests researchers is the oxygen in the water resulting from the biological process of photosynthesis because oxygen levels are indicators of phytoplankton (diatoms, coccolithophors, cyanobacteria, etc.) going through the photosynthesis and providing or becoming the bottom of the food chain and, by extension provide a picture of the overall productivity of the ecosystem. Surface water samples with high oxygen levels are an indication of higher productivity, while areas of low oxygen are an indication of low productivity.

In order to illustrate productivity in the water column, Juranek, uses known relationships between water temperature and the amount of dissolved oxygen and argon to determine the deviation of oxygen saturation from the expected equilibrium levels. The reason for looking at the relationship between oxygen and temperature is that the interactions are predictable as colder waters are able to hold higher amounts of gas. Argon is used as a comparison gas because it is an inert gas and, therefore, not impacted by biological processes, while it still acts in similar ways to oxygen in the water column. Surface water is collected during underway transport and then sampled using a mass-spectrometer to determine the weights of the gasses present in the water. Using the relationship between the argon and oxygen saturation levels, Juranek is able to determine if the direction of the oxygen flow is a result of biological or physical processes.

Based on the most recent data collected on the cruise, Juranek is finding that the highest rate of productivity is at the Chukchi shelf, while the lowest rate of productivity is in the Bering Strait, where the water is relatively unstable. These results are what she was expecting to observe; however, she is excited to continue to sample throughout the area.

Lecture 2—Nine North Slope Mooring Cruises: What have we Learned? Bob Pickart (Woods Hole Oceanographic Institute)

Prior to 2002, very little was known about the currents of the Arctic Ocean and what happens to the warm Pacific water and cool Atlantic water after entering the Bering Strait. Over the last ten years, Dr. Pickart has been gathering data about the water flow dynamics, particularly within the Pacific Water Boundary Current that runs between the northern Alaskan coast and the Beaufort Shelf and flows as far west as the Amundsen Gulf in Canada. Originally it was hypothesized that a majority of the water entering at the Bering Strait would follow the expected path along the northern coast of Alaska. However, the collected data reveals that the PWBC is “leaky,” with less than 20% of the water making it into the current. Even more striking is that this percentage has been decreasing over the last few years, while the amount of water entering the Bering Strait has increased. Based on the data, Pickart believes that the water is lost as a result of two pathways, eddies and storms.

Pickart uses both moorings, which provide continuous data collection for as long as the battery lasts (about a year), and CTD transect lines, which provide a snap-shot of the water column.  Using the moorings, which are deployed and collected yearly, Pickart has gained a much better understanding of the impacts of storms on the PWBC, but hopes to further this knowledge, particularly with respect to the impacts of the increasing shifts in wind patterns and the resulting current changes, with data collected over the last several years as well as this voyage. Traditionally, the current flows east with the “warm” Pacific water on top of the “cooler” Atlantic water. In opposition to this current, the winds blow from the east. Typically, these winds have little to no effect on the current direction; however, during major storm events that result from the Beaufort High and Aleutian Low, the increasing wind speeds have a current altering effect. Pickart has discovered that it only takes wind speeds greater than 4m/s to result in a reversal of these currents.  Not only does the current completely change directions and flow to the west, but also the cooler Atlantic water pushes to the top, resulting in what is known as an upwelling event. Additionally, the warmer waters are pushed north into the ice regions, resulting in dramatic ice melting events. Following a storm, the winds subside and the current returns to its natural state. As the climate is changing, the winds in the Arctic have become more intense, especially during the summer and winter months leading to more upwelling and ice melting events, even during non-storm periods.

To further understand the current patterns of the Atlantic and Pacific waters, data collected through CTD casts are conducted on transect lines along important oceanographic features within the PWBC that include Barrow Canyon and Hanna Shoal. The CTD casts create full profiles of the water column and enable Pickart to use the abiotic features (mainly temperature and salinity) of the water to determine the origin of the water.  Using this data, he can create maps of the water flow patterns throughout the western portion of the Sea.

Lecture 3—Ocean Acoustics, More than Just Whales (Bruce Thayre—SCRIPPS Institute of Oceanography)

Thayre is using acoustic information collected from moorings to determine the anthropogenic impacts of sound on aquatic environments in the Arctic region. Instrumentation converts sound waves into a frequency, which is then used to make a spectrogram of the sound wave as it passes a fixed point. Using these graphs, Thayre identifies the different types of sounds occurring at all times. As it turns out, the Arctic Ocean is a very noisy place, filled with sounds resulting from biological, environmental and anthropogenic sources. Some of the loudest sounds in the ocean are marine mammals, rain, the movement of ice and seismic testing. Thayre is most interested in the sounds resulting from the air guns used for seismic surveys for oil and gas development. These air gun shots can be heard from over 100km away. Understanding the impacts of these sounds is important because they are most frequent during the months of September and October, which is also peak whaling season, so there is concern from local whalers that these tests are disrupting the yearly hunt.

Lecture 4—What can we Learn from Ice Algae in the Arctic (Tanja Schollmeier; University Alaska Fairbanks)

In order to gain an understanding of the impacts of changing climate on the Arctic benthic community, Schollmeier is using fatty acid and ice biomarkers to follow the food web. Within the Arctic ecosystem there are two different types of algae, ice algae and open ocean algae. Each year ice melts and reforms; with the reformation, there is an associated ice algal bloom. As a result of the seasonal timing, these ice algae rely heavily on C₁₃ for growth (while open ocean algae rely on C₁₂). Using fatty acids, this C₁₃ can then be traced up through the food chain in organisms from diatoms to benthic filter feeders such as clams, mussels and crabs. In areas where there has been higher ice coverage, there is typically a higher concentration of C₁₃ fatty acids in the benthic community. Additionally, Schollmeier uses the ice biomarker IP₂₅, which is a highly branched isoprenoid as it is only produced by algae that lives under the ice where light can shine through. As this is a relatively new strategy for tracing the consumption of ice algae, Schollmeier plans to quantify IP₂₅ in samples collected in the water column, sediment and benthos. The ultimate goal of her project is to use fatty acid and IP₂₅ analysis to determine if there are patterns of quantity along ice cover and, if so, to determine whether some organisms or specific feeding types show different patterns of algae consumption.

After living aboard the USCG Healy for two + weeks, I am finally becoming accustomed to living on a large ship. Thankfully my greatest fears of being violently seasick have yet to come true and, in fact, the pitch and roll of the boat often rocks me to sleep. My days have blended together becoming a blur, judged not by the time, but rather what part of my shift I am in and when the next time I can sneak away to some corner for a strategic nap. I have learned to appreciate the simplest things, like a Snickers bar handed out after dinner. I have also been very lucky to find myself in the company of a crew and group of scientists, who teach me something new each and every day. They also have the uncanny ability of making fun of themselves, just as easily as they can give me a hard time for doing something as awkward as walking into a stationary container box or falling off a chair. I have also found myself going from some serious conversations about politics or science to laughing hysterically about nothing at all in a five-minute time frame—all of which makes the long days go by so much quicker.

The hours are long and the schedule tight. My “day” usually begins around 0330 and I start my 12-hour shift at 0400; however, these hours are a generalization and they have been shifted many times to better match a CTD line. Although a CTD line may not last my full shift, they often do, so I struggle to find the time to visit the gym, eat a meal and, most importantly, write a blog and maintain my journal. Even the weather and the increasingly dark days have taken on a familiar pattern. Since boarding ship, we have had at most 5 days with sunshine, while the rest have been gloomy, foggy and grey. When the sun does show itself, it stays along the horizon all day long creating an almost permanent pre-dusk glow. Since entering the Arctic Circle, we have also been losing day light at a rate of close to 10 minutes a day.

Mealtime is one of my favorite times of the day. While the food may not be the best and is similar to the cafeteria food I quickly abandoned in college, it is the main social affair of the day. For each meal, the galley is only open for an hour, so almost everyone who is awake on the boat shows up. At first, the crew sat on one side and the scientists sat on the other, much like a high school cafeteria, but that lasted about a week before the science crew (the coastguard members that we work with directly) joined the ranks of the scientists. Beyond mealtime, there is little interaction with the crew unless it is at one of the organized “events” that include science lectures, Saturday morale night (an activity and movie played on the big screen) or Sunday trivia. Working as part of Team CTD, I also spend a significant portion of my day with different crew shifts that come in and out of the lab space. Otherwise, interactions include frequent passing in the narrow hallways and stairs or short conversations at one of the two gyms aboard the boat. Which brings me to one of the few things that I will not actually miss about living on the boat: navigating the myriad of doors. Because of the need to secure everything at all times for transit, all doors are secured from both the inside and outside. There are also watertight doors between every section of the boat. In order to isolate any flooding accidents, these doors are secured by opening and closing a bar handle. When walking anywhere, everyone jockeys to be in the middle of the group so that we can avoid opening and closing the heavy doors.

Communication on the boat takes me back to my youth when all the “cool” parents had pagers. The only way to find someone who is not in the same room with you is to dial their pager number and wait patiently for them to call you back on the phone that is on whatever room you are in. Although it is not always the most efficient method of communication, it seems to be a good match for the ship life.

Since we have been underway, we have passed several significant landmarks and seen some things that few people ever get the chance to see. Breaking ice is absolutely wild and not like anything I have experienced before. The boat relies on brute force to blaze a trail for us to follow. As the boat moves, it crashes up and down while the ice crumbles beneath its weight. There are then long scratching noises along the side of the boat as huge chunks of ice move past us. The thicker the ice the louder and bumpier the ride becomes. While we were on the ice, the crew saw one polar bear; unfortunately, I missed it because I was squeezing in breakfast before the next CTD cast. We have also had the rare opportunity to cruise past the Smoking Hills of Canada, which are deposits of lignite (carbon-rich shale and pyrite rich in sulphur) that can ignite spontaneously as the hill erodes and the mineral veins are exposed to the air. Finally, as we headed west again, we took a detour to watch the sun set over Herschel Islands. We were lucky enough to have the clouds lift just enough to let the sun shine through.

The first several days of our journey had us steaming northward in the Bering Sea, through the Bering Strait and into the Beaufort Sea. The Bering Strait is significant because at its narrowest point (57 miles), it separates the eastern most point of Asia (Cape Dezhnev, Russia) from the most western point of North America (Cape Prince of Wales, Alaska). As we traveled through the strait, I was taken back to lessons taught in elementary school Social Studies and tried to imagine the strait as a frozen land bridge that served as a major migratory route from Asia into North Americans for nomadic humans as they followed the herds in search of food. Unfortunately it was both too dark and too foggy to see both Russia and Alaska as we passed through, I hope that on the way back that we have to opportunity to be in this unique location.

Once in the Chukchi Sea, not only had we officially left the Pacific Ocean and entered the Arctic Ocean, it was finally Team CTD’s turn to join the science fun aboard ship! CTD is an acronym for Conductivity, Temperature, and Depth and serves as the primary tool for determining essential physical properties of seawater. The data collected with the CTD includes information on the temperature, salinity, chlorophyll, and oxygen levels. The water that is collected is used to verify the computer generated numbers, as well as supply water for nutrient, methane and phytoplankton counts. The advantages of a CTD are its remote sensing capabilities and accuracy. The CTD itself is very lightweight and can be used at depths up to several thousand meters. A shipboard CTD, such as the one on the Healy, is made up of a set of small probes attached to a large metal rosette wheel. The rosette is lowered on a cable down to the seafloor, and scientists observe the water properties in real time via a conducting cable that connects the CTD to a computer on the ship. On the Healy, it is the Coast Guard crew is in charge of lowering the rosette, while I am in charge of operating the computer.

As the CTD operator, my primary responsibility is directing the winch driver as to when stop the CTD to collect the water samples. A remotely operated device allows the water bottles to be closed selectively as the instrument ascends. After the CTD is recovered, it is also our job to make sure that samples are collected in the correct order, gather the water for salt samples and set up the CTD for the next cast. A standard CTD cast, depending on water depth, takes about 15-60 minutes to complete. The whole process is then repeated at each pre-determined site along the transect line. There are nine of these transect lines throughout the Beaufort Sea that are part of different projects. As the cruise continues, I hope to understand more about each of these projects, but as it stands, I understand that the main goal of this cruise is to better understand the flow patterns of the Pacific and Atlantic currents in the Beaufort Gyre and how they are impacted throughout the year by storms and ice.

I am part of a two-person team. The other part of the team is a student from Russia, who is currently working on her PhD in oceanography from the University of Moscow in association with Woods Hole Oceanographic Institute (WHOI). My partner is also my roommate, but we rarely see each other because when I am working, she is sleeping and vice versa. When we do see each other, there is a bit of a language barrier, but her command of English is far better than my non-existent command of Russian. When each of us is on duty, there is very little down time as so much science is being done and the CTD is in high demand as it is gathering data for multiple projects. Before my first time operating the CTD, I was walked through the whole process only once, leaving me very nervous for my first shift. I, however, had a watchful and extremely helpful eye guiding me through the first few casts until I got the hang of the process. Fortunately, my fears proved to be unfounded as I, was able to pick up the important skills rather quickly and, by the end of the first day, I was able to operate the CTD pretty much independently and without any major mistakes.

The regimentation of daily life on the Healy has been quite an adjustment. Meals are served for an hour and only an hour, weekly room checks are required, and the crew is called by their last name and rank. I have yet to figure out what all of the acronyms stand for, however I have begun to understand the chain of command. Fortunately, for me I have developed several nicknames including, the girl who lost her shoes (as it turns out this was actually not my fault as another girl from the science crew had mistaken them for her own and showed up to breakfast an hour later with them on). For someone, who is not known for her neatness, the need to stow everything and leave nothing out has been quite a challenge. Furthermore, I have yet to grow accustomed to the daily drills, in which we must check in while the crew practices for emergency situations. The most recent drill included several fake fires throughout the boat, a flooding in the boiler room and one of the crew getting a piece of metal stuck in his chest. All of which is highly simulated with fake blood and all. I am absolutely impressed with the efficiency in which the boat and crew function and complete daily tasks without questions and little complaining.

As we have been underway, one thing that I am extremely grateful for is the size of the Healy as we pitch and roll through the rough seas. When I look out the window at the sometimes 10-20 ft swells all I can think about is how glad I am not trying to navigate one of our small DISL boats. Getting accustomed to this constant pitch and roll has been another major adjustment for a “balanced challenged” person such as myself. Thankfully, I have not been seasick; however, walking down a hallway without crashing into the walls is a constant struggle. The listing of the ship has also added a whole new dimension to daily tasks such as working out and showering.

Although I have yet to see a whale, I did see the Northern Lights for the first time. I have seen them many times in pictures and I have heard about how beautiful they are, but nothing compares to seeing them in person. On this particular night, I got a pounding on my door around 11:30 p.m. (just as I requested) if the Northern Lights were going to appear. At the time I was getting some much needed sleep before my next shift, which was set to begin in several hours. Although I was exhausted, I knew I didn’t want to miss the opportunity, not knowing if it would ever come again. Once up on deck, I stood with three other people in the nipping cold and was mesmerized by a giant green brushstroke that painted itself across the sky and then slowly faded away. I was so happy that I actually got to witness this natural beauty first hand. If I do get the opportunity to see them again I plan to whistle at them as I was told by a fellow scientist aboard the ship, who is an Inupiaq Native from Point Hope, Alaska, that this will encourage them to dance.

My first day of this incredible journey began at 4:30 PST as I set out for the San Francisco airport for a series of flights that would end 12 hours later in the tiny fishing port of Dutch Harbor, which is located on the Aleutian Island of Unalaska, Alaska. During WW ll, Dutch Harbor was one of the only locations on US territory to be bombed by the Japanese. Today, it is the largest fishery port in the United States and transfers huge harvests of king crab, pollock and cod from the continental shelf in the Bering Sea. Dutch Harbor is beautiful with sweeping vistas that include its resident active volcano Mount Makushin. I wish I had more time to explore the island but at 8:00 on the morning of my second day, I “reported for duty” on the USCG Healy.

The USCG Healy is nothing less than impressive. When I arrived on the boat for the first time, it was still dark in Dutch Harbor, so all I saw towering above me were the lights of the small, highly efficient city and community I was about to become a part of. Commissioned in 1999, the USCG Healy is currently the only active large icebreaker in the Coast Guard’s fleet. It is designed to break 4.5 ft. of ice continuously at 3 knots and can operate in temperatures as low as −50 °F. It was named in honor of Michael A. Healy, a highly influential captain in the US Cutter Service (which preceded the Coast Guard) during the last half of the 19^th century. Healy spent many years in the Alaskan waters acting as a judge, doctor and policeman to the Alaskan natives, merchant seamen and whaling crews. Also a pioneer in arctic navigation, he made science a key part of each of his missions, attracting the attention of renowned naturalist John Muir, who accompanied him on several expeditions. As a legacy to Healy, the Cutter Healy is designed to conduct a wide range of research activities in addition to its search and rescue, and resupply services.

Within the first ten minutes of boarding the ship, I had already been lost three times, overwhelmed by the maze of hallways that all look the same. A good portion of the first day was spent in safety training, which included all of us donning the very unfashionable, terribly cumbersome “gumby suit,” which is a special type of waterproof dry suit that is designed to protect the wearer from hypothermia from immersion in cold water, after abandoning a sinking or capsized vessel, especially in the open ocean. The exercise provided high entertainment for all and, hopefully, we will never need to put the suits to real use. The rest of the day was spent getting my sea legs, gazing at the spectacular scenery and exploring the ship, which includes more than 4,200 square feet of scientific laboratory space, numerous electronic sensor systems, and oceanographic winches. Whether it was watching bald eagles fight on shore, witnessing the efficiency and skill of the Coast Guard crew, or learning about the science being conducted on board, I must have said, “that is the coolest thing I have ever seen” at least three times every hour. I, however, still continue to get lost and need to find new ways to get to where I need to be. Hopefully, in the next 24 hours I will become comfortable enough to get around without asking for directions from every person I see. If you would like to know where I am at all hours of the day the ships progress can be followed at: http://mapserver.healy.polarscience.net/ Tonight we will start to head North to our intended destination in the Beaufort Sea with promises of science, whales, northern lights and ice!

As much as I would like to say that I am mentally prepared for the adventure I am about to embark on, I have to admit I am unsure of what to expect from the next month aboard the USCG Healy.  However, there are a few things I do know: I know that this will be unlike any experience I have ever had and I know that I will be working with a crew of brilliant scientists and highly skilled Coast Guard members on a project to understand the relationship between the circulation and ecosystems on the shelf and continental slope in the Beaufort Sea. I also know that I have high hopes to see beluga whales and polar bears and experience the delicate marine Arctic ecosystem before it disappears as a result of increasingly changing climate.  Most importantly, I know that I am eager and ready for the challenge of expanding my knowledge of the Arctic in a real time and hands on way, as well as learn new oceanographic technical skills.  Finally, I know that I have five days before I leave for the next chapter in my scientific career and what I really need to do is buy myself some warm socks and plenty of motion sickness medicine.