There is hardly time to sleep on this vessel, let alone write with any regularity. The "Swedish" watch schedule makes mischief with one's sidereal rhythms. And I'm left unsure of how much sleep I am getting overall. Indeed, I'm not sure how to assess what "overall" means, for our rotation through every third of the three 4-hour night watches and three 6-hour day watches does not repeat until 3 full days have elapsed.
Yesterday (or was it today?) I knew I was really tired, because when Annette surprised Martha and I with her stash of "Science candy" I failed to successfully eat a Reese's peanutbutter cup. Half distracted by yet another fascinating addition to the lab's aquarium, half enthused by the prospect of chocolate, and half pondering three separate projects to be multi-tasked, I deftly unwrapped the cup and tossed it into my salivating maw. My eager tongue met only with frustration. Oddly, flavor swelled from my palette and cascaded along the innner edge of my upper teeth. Pushing up on the base of the cup, I crushed it against the roof of my mouth, but my tongue remained puzzled by a waxy experience and the flanking flood of flavor. Irked, I spat the crushed cup into my palm and scrutinized it angrily. Stunned that I had neglected to remove the candy from its brown paper cup, I looked up to see Annette and Martha doubled over laughing.
The daily reprieve from exhaustion (other than sleep) is the daily meeting of the
ship on the quarter deck. Weather and navigation reports are followed by presentations
of the scientific findings of the cruise to date. Class offers an opportunity to
present the theory of sailing and oceanography, an apt supplement to the daily regimine
of hands-on experience. We have covered points of sail, turbidites, how to heave to
via a Crazy Ivan or double jibe, and the basic geostrophic nature of Gulf Stream eddies.
Captain Al has read to us of the importance of sleep while asail, while Gary has
illustrated continental rifting and the formation of the Atlantic using only newsprint
and a Milky Way bar.
Classtime also affords an opportunity for the students to
share what they have learned about pointed questions and their own expertise or
interests. There is always a snack break and often significant distrations;
today
Bihn's fish lure hooked a Mahi-mahi mid-lecture!
The highlight of today and the cruise (thus far) was the swim call after the line
identification relay race. On the edge of the Sargasso Sea, likely in the
meanderings of the Gulf Stream, we lept from the bowsprit into the 21oC (~66oF)
indigo drink. It was glorious! Emerging from a white charge of bubbles, I
snorkeled in 3000 feet of azure expanse -- an infinite half-space of fuzzy blue,
subtley populated with dense life as far as my eyes could see.
Though the saying about such nutrient-poor parts of the ocean
goes "blue, blue, blue... dead,
dead, dead," I found an evanescent jelly or salp spiral, or a drifting clump of
sargassum with fish, or a mysterious turquoise sequin in every separate liter! Though
I have yet to snorkel in a true oligotrophic gyre center, I must insist that the
oceans are not filled with sea water, but with a soup of (mostly) gelatinous life.
The oceans constantly deliver us wonderful creatures and phenomena. I have marvelled at the perfect fit of the of the phronima amphipod inside the case of a gutted salp. I have rested near the rail with the storm petrel. I have been stung, but like the Portugese man of war fish who lives amongst the tentacles, I am alive here.
Previous Entry | Return to Logbook Contents Next Entry