Mud: A Thing of Beauty

Okay, so I'm feeling kind of emotional.

I just don't know if I can do it today.

I'm just not sure I can write about science.

Or engineering. Or cores or man baskets or drilling or winches. I don't think I can do it. Really, what I want to do is to write about is champagne and lingerie. I want to write about high-heeled shoes and the new lipstick from Mac and what happened at the Paris Prêt-à-Porter. Honestly, this trip on the Knorr has got my brain twisted up into one big salty pretzel and I feel so confused and adrift and out of element, that I just want to cry. And in fact, that’s what I did this morning. I sat on the side of the boat—I mean ship, whatever--the stern side? Is that it? It all feels kind of stern to me) and I cried.

And then, after a while, I felt much, much better.

There’s no crying in Science!

Well, as far as I can see, there’s no crying in Science. Everyone here is very rational.

Unemotional.

Serious and levelheaded.

I am trying to get with the program.

After all, we are doing very important work. Well, the scientists and crew are doing very important work. I am just observing. And okay, for all this rational thinking, I’ve noticed that there is also a certain romance in our mission. I mean, just the fact that these WHOI scientists are trying to save our precious and beautiful ocean is well…romantic! Oh, and despite the fact that they are using all this heavy machinery, they are also incredibly careful and precise. I watch as they stare at their computer screens for hours, mapping out the course of the next deployment, all in search of a place where the mud is good.

And there is a lot of waiting. There is a lot of patience. Time marches forward with a sense of expectation in the air, a kind of quiet, yet palpable tension, and then suddenly, Chief Scientist, Dr. Lloyd Keigwin shouts out: “we’ve just found the mother of all mud!” (Yes, he actually said this yesterday.) I watch as everyone suddenly jumps into action—grabbing hard hats and vests and getting into man basket, the control units—each member of the team taking up their role in the deployment of a core. It might be a long core or a gravity core or a multicore. It might be a combination of these.

To watch this team effort is a thing of beauty. It’s truly awe-inspiring, because each member of the team is completely dependent on one another. It’s dangerous work out there on the ship’s deck and the ability to place trust in one another is everything. And then there’s the precious mud that must be brought up from the bottom of the ocean. If there is an “over-penetration” and there is no water on top of the core to show where the “present” time begins, then the core is ruined and all that planning and plotting and strategy and pulling and pushing and sweating and heavy lifting is for naught.

“This core’s gonna be funky.”

Next there is the cutting of the core, the measuring, the labeling, the organizing and assembling, so that scientists can later share the samples and proceed with lab work back on land. Today, a core came up cracked due to the pressure. Kathryn Rose walked into the lab—covered in mud, wearing her hard hat and steel-toed boots—and announced “this core’s gonna be funky.”

Yes, there was crack in the pvc (the plastic) and so water got it. Cutting it will be tricky, but much of the sample will be salvageable. This is just one of the many mechanical things that can go wrong. It's also one of the many things that make the work dynamic, suspenseful and highly dramatic.

There’s always tension in the air.

It’s no wonder that these hard-working scientists and crew spend the down time laughing and telling stories, watching clips from “Family Man” and reading books or watching a comedy like “Anchor Man.” If it’s sunny outside some of scientists and crew take off their shirts and fish for tuna and striped bass off the stern.

And yet, I sense that there is no authentic “down time,” but rather there is a kind of anxious waiting. I’ve watched them up at midnight, the ship rolling and rocking underneath our feet--steaming forward to a new destination where the scientists will deploy another core. I’ve watched as the scientists take catnaps

in front of their computer screen. I’ve seen Dr. Keigwin do this, head down on the desk, as if he simply cannot bear to be separated from the computer map that reveals where he might once again capture "the mother of all mud."

Dr. Keigwin is an interesting character.

First of all, he’s very fashionable. He wears striped Picasso shirts (although he tells me they’re actually Russian Sailors shirts) and he has longish blonde hair that he often ties back in a small ponytail. My laptop is right beside Dr. Keigwin and Dr. Nick McCave and I can tell you that they both have always have an expression of intense concentration, combined with a little bit of worry and a seriousness of intent that makes you tiptoe by the two of them for fear you might disturb their scientific ruminations. At least I find myself tiptoeing by them in the morning when I come down to the lab and I find both already intently at work, staring into the computer screens at the map of the ocean’s floor and I suspect both Lloyd and Nick have been up for hours at this job--looking

for that perfect location to drill for mud, always in search of the perfect mud.

But it’s not just about the mud.

It’s about what lives inside that mud—those little plants and animals called foraminifera. I’ve seen xeroxed photographs of them, and truthfully, I still didn't get what the fuss was all about. But then, Dr. Cynthia Pilskaln sat me down in front of the microscope the other day. Oh my God! That’s actually what I blurted out, because there--through the eyes of this lens—an entire world opened up to me.

These creatures are so delicate, so intricate, so beautiful! Looking at them under the microscope reminds me of a jewelry box full of leaf-shaped trinkets, silver necklaces, little button clip on earrings, and strands of pearls. Jewels. You can't see it in this picture which I got from the internet, but everything glitters and shines. It's all silver-toned and quite exquisite. You feel as if you are looking at buried treasure.

And they hold valuable information about the future of the ocean! They are a window into the changes that have happened over thousands of years and they can help foretell the future. Some understanding climate change comes down to this very fragile and beautiful creatures.

And, they're inspirational. At least to me. This was my eureka moment. Hidden in the mud, I found the heart of design, fashion, art and beauty. Better than watching a fashion show!

With all this beauty and grace around me, how can I be sad?

Well, I'm not anymore.

See you tomorrow!

It's Raining Men!

The Man Basket

Yes, it seems I’ve made another mistake. In my last post I said that the “man basket” is the place where someone sits in a little booth high above the ship, directing all this huge machinery. Actually, that’s not the Man Basket at all. That’s called a “Winch Shack.” This afternoon at lunch, the lovely Sarah Schulenberg, a grad student from the University of New Hampshire set me straight. This is Sarah.

She’s currently on the PhD track for a degree in paleoclimatology, specializing in oxygen isotopes and trace elements in relation to the strength of the summer monsoon in the Indian Ocean. So obviously she knows what she’s talking about!

This is her second trip on the Knorr. Her advisor is Dr. Rose Came. Oh, and Dr. Rose Came’s advisor was the one and only Dr. Delia Oppo from Woods Hole Oceanographic and I happen to be a friend of Delia’s and in fact, I’ve had dinner over her house many times. She’s a great cook—and oh, dear—I think I’ve gotten off point!

But, it is a small world, no?

Oh, the point, yes the point.

So, not too long ago, Dr. Rose Came and Dr. Bill Curry (oh, and I know him too and his very elegant wife, Dr. Ruth Curry). They’ve been to our house for a dinner party not to long ago. Okay, now I’ll stop digressing.) Anyway, they contacted Sarah because they needed help on the Knorr. She loved it and so they asked if she’d like to come on board again and of course, she said yes. Sarah is totally into the work.

She told me how great it is “to see where the science starts.” And while she admits the work is exhausting, it’s also really fun. And she’s learning a lot because it’s all “hands-on.” Oh, and of course she also loves the people, the camaraderie, the team atmosphere and helping guest bloggers (that would be moi) get the facts straight! Actually, she didn’t say that, but I know she does care about getting things right.

That’s how the scientist’s mind works.

It’s really interesting for me, because I don’t think like that at all. As a writer (I often write fiction and short stories, along with nonfiction) I’m more interested in the emotional truth than the truth-truth. I love to think about how everything is a metaphor for something else. For example, all this mud is not just mud, but it’s kind of like the ocean’s bed. It’s where it dreams. Kind of Jungian, dontcha think? Oh, and if you carry the metaphor even further, if we muck up the bottom of the ocean's bed, then how can it sleep properly? I meant, we all know what happens when we don’t get enough sleep. We get cranky! Well, suppose the ocean gets cranky? I mean, we’ve been doing a heck of a job mucking up the ocean and now it’s becoming more and more acidic and well, isn’t that kind of like trying to sleep with acid reflux?

Okay, well maybe not. But you get the idea.

Anyway, I suppose that’s how I got the Man Basket mixed up with the Winch Shack!

So, to set the record straight. This is a winch. And if you look closely, you can see a little booth. That's the actual winch shack.

And this is how it works: The crane is used to deploy the multicore. Then the Bos’n stays on deck (that’s short for “boatswain”—kind of romantic sounding, isn’t it?) and directs an able bodied seaman (AB) to take the slack out of the wire. Next, the crane lifts the multicore over the side of the ship and is parked outboard of the vessel for the entire deployment. Recovery is exactly the opposite. Got that?

The Dog Dish

Okay, so to continue.

This is The Dog Dish. I think it’s kind of obvious why it’s called a dog dish. I mean, it looks like a giant dog dish!

The crew attaches the dog dish. It houses the acoustic equipment and the release system. That means it basically tells the piston core when we want it to drop to the floor of the ocean.

The Man Basket.

Now, this is what the Man Basket looks like. Very different. It’s not high above the ship, but it actually is hanging off the fantail of the ship.

Dr. Cynthia Pilskaln in the Man Basket:

Okay, I have to stop now, because I am a little out of my league here. Though, honestly, I’m trying to catch up!

So, instead of talking about The Man Basket, let’s talk about MEN! Oh my goodness--there are so many handsome men on the KNORR!!!

Men at Work

Yes, this topic is much more up my alley. I just have to send out this message to all my gal pals out there in New York City, L.A., San Francisco and Chicago--if you want really want to meet a fabulous guy, then you should come on board the Knorr! I mean, really. They’re all rugged, sea-faring, manly men! Handsome, tough, and tanned. Oh, but these guys aren’t all brawn and no brain. No, no, no. They are very brainy! You’ve got the most brilliant minds out here. And they’re not the like those writer/artsy type guys I’m used to meeting at AWP (Associated Writing Programs) or BEA (Book Expo America) or at The Virginia Center for the Creative Arts or the Ragdale Foundation where everyone is an artiste!

These guys not only know their science, but they read books! Lots and lots of books. Here's a small selection of books I found on board:

Okay, nobody on board is really reading this book. French Women Don't Sleep Alone. That's actually my book. As in, I'm the author.

Yes, it’s true. I’m part French (well, my grandmother was French) but no, I don’t sleep alone (except when I’m out to sea). I sleep with the one and only Dr. William G. Thompson of Woods Hole Oceanographic Institution. Yes, I just happened to be married to one of those rugged/brainy scientist-types, so girls, I do know what I’m talking about!

Ooooh la la!

I meant "sediment", not "sentiment"

Lattitude: 39 Degrees

Longitude: 067 Degrees

This is my August horoscope from Susan Miller’s, Astrologyzone.com:

Cosmic storms will rumble through the heavens in early August, but you may be one of the very fortunate ones who will be blissfully unaware of all that's happening to others. Planks will be falling, the ship will be rocking, and you'll be swinging in your hammock, reading your iPad, completely unaware that the boat nearly capsized. When told the captain had a near miss, you'll look up blankly and say, "What are you talking about?"

Seriously, that’s my August horoscope for Aquarius.

Okay, so I admit it. I am feeling a little blue today.

First of all, I am homesick. Not seasick, thank goodness, but definitely homesick. I sat on the deck this afternoon and as the Knorr was steaming along, making big waves, I looked out into the distant horizon and saw nothing. Nothing but blue, blue, blue water. Well, I guess that’s no surprise, since we are in the middle of the ocean. But suddenly, it dawned on me that I am in the middle of the middle. I am days from land, from home and all that’s familiar.

And I’m not just talking about what’s familiar in terms of land, but what’s familiar in terms of my life. I am in deep water, both literally and metaphorically. I wish I had brought a copy of Elle Magazine with me. I wish I could go for a mani/pedi right about now.

I wish I could get on the phone and talk to my friend Laurie who’s an actress/writer in New York City and honestly, I’d be thrilled to hear about her latest boy-troubles!

More than anything else, I miss Dr. William Thompson! (That’s would be my scientist/husband). Here he is in his lab at WHOI.

He brings me coffee every morning. Now, more than ever before, it has dawned on me what an incredible luxury this cafe á la Thompson is for me! This isn't actually a cup of coffee he made, but it gives you the general idea. Pure luxury!

Here on the Knorr, I must wake myself up and somehow make it down to the kitchen—excuse me—galley—and fetch my coffee before it closes at 8:15 a.m. I think that’s the time—truthfully, I missed breakfast this morning. I did figure out how to make the coffee and I did fetch myself a mug, but still.

I suppose I have become spoiled. Yes, very spoiled.

And this brings me to the point of this blog post. While I am a total slacker—by that I mean, I prefer to write about things than actually do things (okay, not always, but a lot of the time), these climate change scientists are working nonstop! They are so passionate about saving this planet and especially our ocean from the onslaught of climate change—that they are up at 2 a.m. lugging in these large gravity cores. They’re at their computers charting out the best waters to drop the cores. They’re using radio signals and operating something called a “man basket” where a man sits in a little booth high above the ship, directing all this huge machinery. And then, when the time is right, they set to work, quickly and efficiently cutting through the pvc (hard plastic) and capping the tops, labeling them, and securing them, while this enormous steel vessel rocks and rolls and shifts beneath our feet.

All this done with speedy professionalism.

And what was I doing last night at midnight while all this action was going on?

Sleeping in my “state room.”

And so, I confess, I also completely missed Dr. Cynthia Pilskaln’s sediment

trap launch! But I was given this photo from the event.

Cindy is the gal with the long, blonde hair and the California tan. In fact, she is from California originally. She grew up in the Laguna Beach area and fell in love with the ocean when she was a little girl, playing with hermit crabs in the little tide pools around the beach. She actually created little contests for the hermit crabs.

Here is a photo of this wonderful scientist.

And here is a picture of the mermaid clip she often wears in her hair.

She knew from a very young age that she wanted to study the ocean and so she majored in geology at the University of Vermont as a way to get into oceanography. Cindy then went to Harvard where she got her Masters and Ph.D. in geology with a focus in sedimentary chemistry processes. Today she teaches at the University of Massachusetts School for Marine Science and Technology in New Bedford.

So, about those sentiment trap moorings. See the yellow cone in the photo above? That’s designed to collect sinking particle matter in the ocean which either becomes sediment or is consumed in the water column. Cindy’s research is all about looking at the connection between surface ocean productivity events and the connection between what happens in the upper ocean, the shallow ocean and how all that gets translated into the sediments. I think sediment is actually fancy talk for mud. (Yes, we’re back to mud again!)

It’s sediment core not a sentiment core.

Yes, I have just been informed that for the past two days, I have been blogging about “sentiments,” when I meant to say “sediments.” Hmmmm…I wonder what it all means? Somehow, I’ve even turned the mud into something a little emotional, a little heartfelt. A sentiment. But, really, I apologize. I meant to say “sediment.”

But actually, mud is very complicated stuff. It includes plankton and all sorts of organic matter and can hold a record of long and short time scales. So, yesterday morning, the group of scientists dropped the sediment traps to 150 meters and 250 meters, and then they put down a big anchor and in May, Cindy and the scientists (doesn’t that sound like the title for a new t.v. show?) will come back and send a signal to the unit on the wire below the trap which will release the mechanism, wake it up, and then it’ll rotate and open, and magically (actually, very scientifically) the trap will float up. Each of the thirteen cups collects material samples and then rotates every twenty-day over the next eight months. Wow. Once she retrieves the samples, Cindy will be back to the lab doing microscope and chemical analyses to determine the amount and composition of the particle materials that have settled to the bottom of the ocean.

And why go to all this trouble? Well, the ocean is warming. And when the ocean warms, there are fewer nutrients for the phytoplankton and if the phytoplanktons have less food, then the fish have less food and if the fish have less food, well then the penguins have less food! And who would want to hurt a penguin! (Okay, I may be a little off on that last part, but you get the idea. This is important work.)

And now, I am going to say good night, because while it’s past nine o’clock, the ship is bustling and we are about to bring in a gravity core and everyone is wide awake about to go into action once again. This time, I am determined to stay awake for it! Bon soir!