tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19621511858353585992024-03-05T00:57:43.447-08:00The Blob Chasers: Tracking the DIMES Tracer in the Southern OceanJan Zikahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06482379177409674651noreply@blogger.comBlogger40125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1962151185835358599.post-2839858043946301822014-03-27T09:24:00.004-07:002014-03-27T09:24:58.849-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Is there anyone out there?<br />
<br />
If so I thought you might enjoy news from the most recent DIMES cruise. Check out Siobhan and Katy's blog at: http://www.adropinthesouthernocean.blogspot.co.uk<br />
<br />
Cheerio<br />
<br />
Jan</div>
Jan Zikahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06482379177409674651noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1962151185835358599.post-34294516668344392332013-05-01T07:12:00.001-07:002013-05-01T07:12:19.465-07:00Day 46: Farewell<div><br><blockquote type="cite"> <div bgcolor="#ffffff" text="#000000"> A beautiful sunset is taking shape over Stanley Harbour. Salinity samples have been run, tracer blobs analysed. The glass wear has been cleaned and packed firmly away. The labs have been swept, surfaces cleared and data backed. Tomorrow we will fly home, fatigued, relieved and with an increasing sense of satisfaction and achievement. <br> <br> As we sailed towards the the Falklands on Friday night. All work was called to a halt and a feast was put on by Hamish and the stewards. Officers wore their finest stripes and the rest of us tried not to look too shabby. After aperitifs and a fine meal - somehow fashioned from the last vestiges of the ships stores -the tracer team held an awards presentation. Xinfeng was congratulated for tireless sampling, Doctor John for his medical grade precision and Pierre for muscular bottle transportation (he needed to beat Gwyn and Andrew to an arm wrestle to secure the title). Yours truly was awarded the 'best dressed sampler award' for my full-body fluorescents-yellow rain gear. JB was notably disappointed as his 'dedication to cashmere jumpers' only got a special mention. Brian K was deservedly awarded the 'lifetime acheivment award for dedication to the tube and bottle. The awards where a bespoke combination of inflated rubber glove, pvc tubing and contorted coke can.<br> <br> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNgQhz6RPcFh5eqiFAL6dj0ULNHQTqSGtjwmWjzcocQWrINBvd85vVFiYdG-uAYN-iYlc-O1NMsaT3uTGKrUQbEuJWMsa9bbv6v379gj1IuMxBMJkax69I-IbEtNEd-TvOwbHmXaIqVjM/s1600/_DSC6775-739465.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNgQhz6RPcFh5eqiFAL6dj0ULNHQTqSGtjwmWjzcocQWrINBvd85vVFiYdG-uAYN-iYlc-O1NMsaT3uTGKrUQbEuJWMsa9bbv6v379gj1IuMxBMJkax69I-IbEtNEd-TvOwbHmXaIqVjM/s320/_DSC6775-739465.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5873013616253693730" /></a><br> <br> Pierre Crushes Andrew with a grin.<br> <br> <br> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYD5_JLTQzI0fQm5POb5lTXZNAbkQ4gFBrQBhp5wN7EJioQ5yzm1UAuJz_q-c6ilxdIyq0S9NYi6xM_JY2agbEydXAulX6uRZR43WVeeKcgmFkwIYls2K2_aWcHsd029MK1nllbFgmNBE/s1600/_DSC6787-742264.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYD5_JLTQzI0fQm5POb5lTXZNAbkQ4gFBrQBhp5wN7EJioQ5yzm1UAuJz_q-c6ilxdIyq0S9NYi6xM_JY2agbEydXAulX6uRZR43WVeeKcgmFkwIYls2K2_aWcHsd029MK1nllbFgmNBE/s320/_DSC6787-742264.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5873013623251585218" /></a><br> <br> Masters of Ceremonies Siobhan (left) and Ben (right) pose with the fashion guru, the Old-rubber-hand, the CTD junky, Beefcake and the closet Vampire Doctor John. <br> <br> <br> The impression left by the Falklands was less bleak than when we arrived. A gentle run to Gipsy Cove the evening we arrived, found Gwyn Andrew and I looking out over tranquil sandy beach with golden evening hues warming the distant rocky landings. The old team of peak baggers: Andrew, Pierre, Paul and myself spent Sunday hiking up one of the Twin Sisters past Stanley. The day had more of the chill-breeze and silver-skies we expect at this latitude. The walk climaxed with a view across this Island. It was across these summits that British troops trudged to Stanley. Wasted shells, rusty machine gun tripods and decaying leather boots, not to mention numerous cordoned off mine fields, leave a clear fingerprint of this recent conflict.<br> <br> Highlights of the trip - too numerous - I will not list them all. Scientifically, the surprisingly vast spread of the tracer blob will be the headline. The intense mixing due to breaking billows observed above a dense plume at the Scotia Ridge will no doubt motivate ongoing discussion and future experiments. In our memories, the visit of the Humpback and the glorious day on South Georgia will dearly rest. It is with unabashed sentimentality that I say this, but the strength of relationships forged and the unflinching good humour maintained by all throughout that will leave the greatest impression.<br> <br> Until the next voyage<br> Yours truly<br> Jan Zika<br> <br> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsQ1IMuK8mK2cWieF6TVg3oWyLIcePt2HM6q1I9MDjGaQHwJWlVEY8TZfj9e2OnPYQZXQXiLXsCbTO-MofKP2JS6mYGbjTSP7IWb5cp5rM1Wpu1H2PQL92lyyUhMaTk8ydpRb7tneYZ1Q/s1600/DSC_8424-744448.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsQ1IMuK8mK2cWieF6TVg3oWyLIcePt2HM6q1I9MDjGaQHwJWlVEY8TZfj9e2OnPYQZXQXiLXsCbTO-MofKP2JS6mYGbjTSP7IWb5cp5rM1Wpu1H2PQL92lyyUhMaTk8ydpRb7tneYZ1Q/s320/DSC_8424-744448.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5873013634332509074" /></a><br> <br> <br> From left: Marie-just-one-more-calibration-Jo, Floating-balls-Paul, Brian-let-me-tell-you-a-thing-or-two-about-pencils-K, Sean 'the fog maker', Jan-I-can't do that I've got a blog post to write...sorry-Zika, Andrew-3-figure-bar-tab-M, No-VMPs-today-James, 'I'm going downstairs to do salts I might be some time' Pierre, Andy-there-is-an-Alien-in-my-stomach-W, My-name-is-not-Gwen-Gwyn, Happy-with-a-rack-of-toast-Alex, Jean-God-Save-The-Queen-Baptiste, I-agree-with-James-John, 'What is a fart?' - Xinfeng, Brian-I-am-insecure-about- how-American-I-am-G, 'The Helmet is my Canvas' Ben, Duplicates-on-ten-Siobhan, My-name-is-not -Gwyn-Gwen and Phil 'The Polar Bear Hunter'<br> </div> </blockquote></div><br>Jan Zikahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06482379177409674651noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1962151185835358599.post-46495061662011209932013-04-26T20:29:00.000-07:002013-04-26T20:30:17.521-07:00Day 40: La Ultima Stazione!<tt>This afternoon at 1pm we took the last-final-ultima CTD out of the water. Lucky Stazione 128. Epic.<br> <br> From 5pm today science, sampling, tracer blob tracking and salinity calibration are all band. We are done. The festivities will be kicking off from 6pm and we'll roll into Stanley, no doubt bleary eyed, at 8am tomorrow. Then the packing, shipping, cleaning...and probably a bit of calibrating etc will begin its final throws. <br> <br> It has been an incredibly successful voyage. Four significant cross sections of the deep ocean have been made. Moorings have been recovered. An unprecedented amount of data on mixing has been gathered by the VMP. We have observed the evolution of the blob for the fourth year and it has continued to suprise. Our one unfortunate occurrence was the sea-ice south of the Orkney Islands stopping us from retrieving Lamont's moorings. Any, way we got off better than Shackleton did when he had too much sea ice.<br> <br> Well done everyone!<br> <br> There will be a final sign off in a few days.<br> <br> Cheers<br> Jan<br> <br> </tt><br> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdIOtLmFGv11DhQSDY3uC8ZiP75ijFsBd4sB9YNdpV9H_gDiXCsHhugKPuPRnOeXind3rvvRLvhPhxP6Y3wqsBU1sOSuyF8DHokyNP5WWK_qQ9Xk6Y_r1ZIv_1i-EINxHM7eM7bppnFNE/s1600/Day40-717521.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdIOtLmFGv11DhQSDY3uC8ZiP75ijFsBd4sB9YNdpV9H_gDiXCsHhugKPuPRnOeXind3rvvRLvhPhxP6Y3wqsBU1sOSuyF8DHokyNP5WWK_qQ9Xk6Y_r1ZIv_1i-EINxHM7eM7bppnFNE/s320/Day40-717521.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5871363826794657154" /></a><br> <br> Photo: Still friends after 128 Stations. The mostly day CTD crew including (from front left): Paul, Doc John (from back right) Gwen, Siobhan, Gwyn, Andrew and Me.<br> <br> <br> Jan Zikahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06482379177409674651noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1962151185835358599.post-53585706327598863152013-04-23T18:49:00.001-07:002013-04-23T18:49:56.396-07:00Day 37: I can'ey do-it cap'n I've only got the power of 8,000 homes<tt><br> One station from the end of the line, as we drank the last dregs of well mixed tracer blob from the Argentine Basin, the weather hits us. Winds over 50 knots. A growing sea. Foaming and mountainous. We can no longer drop CTDs. We could wait, bobbing and battered where we are. Better we make use of the time as the storm hits to begin the long steam home. We make a meager 5 knots into the wind. Walls of water crash over the bow. The ship goes from random walk generator to Martini shaker. Sleeping is boarder-line...if your bed has a boarder...if not...hold on.<br> <br> </tt><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW67SGWLJjY5XDl5A2hkCCB-4hyDQPFMj8RzF1m53xEophkkbQKBv3gcwgTqtUzJUYC8QoAOY1dOLD7xK1-w4CpFR7itE77OuvRiC_1B-X6P9faVwubij1J6ZjPXFFwK1aqw00fCrNW3Y/s1600/DSC_8298-796397.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW67SGWLJjY5XDl5A2hkCCB-4hyDQPFMj8RzF1m53xEophkkbQKBv3gcwgTqtUzJUYC8QoAOY1dOLD7xK1-w4CpFR7itE77OuvRiC_1B-X6P9faVwubij1J6ZjPXFFwK1aqw00fCrNW3Y/s320/DSC_8298-796397.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5870224704126292434" /></a><br> <tt><br> Photo: It is fun to be in the bar and notice the windows being cleaned from the outside...and the inside if you don't hold onto your drink.<br> <br> When a ship like this is in tough seas or trapped in thick ice, needless to say, it needs a lot of power. Yesterday the ship's third engineer, Mango (haven't figured out why he's called mango yet) took us on a tour of the ship's inner workings. It is difficult to imagine what lurks beneath. All we usually see are men popping up and down staircases and ladders wearing grease stained boiler suits. Are they greasing shackles? Shovelling coal? <br> <br> </tt><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYDcS7jHyJ7cMXM8jes4YA7SsUFJoF0XvkZcZ-vyopzAffDyjVIprW5HzePQkCgPWbtYAa_9WD8vmeUhIRIS9hBLZeCmUOkDpX0SWdrYP8ijbUZWHZydcEdMCGdw6Ox9hSoi7_1YyHE8A/s1600/P4192683-798166.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYDcS7jHyJ7cMXM8jes4YA7SsUFJoF0XvkZcZ-vyopzAffDyjVIprW5HzePQkCgPWbtYAa_9WD8vmeUhIRIS9hBLZeCmUOkDpX0SWdrYP8ijbUZWHZydcEdMCGdw6Ox9hSoi7_1YyHE8A/s320/P4192683-798166.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5870224714769976738" /></a><br> <tt><br> Photo: Mango doing his best Mickey mouse impression.<br> <br> The tour begins in the control centre. It feels and looks like a 1960's version of the future. Flashing lights, colour screens, countless dials and of course...red buttons! There are large machines down here, very large. Just the rudder has 4 motors powering it's movement. The propeller shaft spins at the rear of the boat and is as thick as a large tree trunk. There are desalination chambers for our drinking water, and everything is powered by 4 huge engines, two 3 Megawatt and one 1 Megawatt, 8 Megawatts in total. Wondering what a Megawatt is? The former president of Indonesia? 1 Megawatt is enough to power about 1000 American homes. So the force we need to move through ice and keep us alive (and quite comfortable) could sustain a small town. <br> <br> </tt><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAATl7cv29deEta8sedkjIKwSKne-v3_2a0lVUnpvVOBUXlDMdVKs6AtAPMvdGQ8VpyNhT1XaJZF823mCokJKNMohH4tOZX-MRLKTstC1gpiZ_p0BAGVyGcCJ3E0-FvJiqhESWnDtFsXk/s1600/P4192689-700525.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAATl7cv29deEta8sedkjIKwSKne-v3_2a0lVUnpvVOBUXlDMdVKs6AtAPMvdGQ8VpyNhT1XaJZF823mCokJKNMohH4tOZX-MRLKTstC1gpiZ_p0BAGVyGcCJ3E0-FvJiqhESWnDtFsXk/s320/P4192689-700525.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5870224721787504962" /></a><tt><br> <br> Photo: See, told you!<br> <br> It is fascinating how much of the ship has been modified for science. Water and air are transported in oversized pipes to prevent vibration. Parts in contact with the sea are designed so that oil and water come in rather than out to prevent contamination. Special power supply to prevent surges and static. The ship has huge compressors for seismic surveys. These send out a shock and the reflection tells us about the sea bed and the earth below it. They used to do it with dynamite but Mango says they never let him play with them. </tt><br> <tt><br> If all goes well we'll get to within day a day of Stanley on the 25th. We will then squeeze in a few more CTDs near the South American Continental Shelf. There's got to be some tracer in them there waters!<br> <br> Cheers<br> Jan<br> <br> <br> </tt> Jan Zikahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06482379177409674651noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1962151185835358599.post-21103723550924180562013-04-21T16:57:00.001-07:002013-04-21T16:57:17.554-07:00Day 35: Power for a small town of murderers<tt>The voyage draws to its final week. We are across the 50S latitude. We sit over a shallow hump 1500m down. To our north the sea plunges to 6km into the Argentine Basin. </tt><tt>The circumpolar current surges beneath us once again. </tt><tt>The cooler Antarctic Waters to the South twist and dance around the warm Atlantic waters. A tango of frontal interaction. Between the tosses and turns we search desperately for the blob of tracer. We only have a few opportunities left to taste the tracer before we steam to the Falklands.<br> <br> Th Argentine Basin is deep. Six km down into the ocean means there is 6km of water above you. The pressure felt at that depth would be like having about 3,000 people walking all over. There would be the kids on top, the teenagers, the old fogies, Oliver Cromwell, Julius Caesar, the Neanderthals, the lot. Even a few large Dinosaurs and the bus they are all travelling in (if this doesn't make sense to you see the previous post on taking a bus with Genghis Kahn). To have a little fun with that sort of pressure, and to get a little memento of the voyage, Pierre got the scientist on board to decorate a polystyrene cup. He then attached the cup to the CTD before it went all the way to 6km. <br> <br> <br> </tt><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJSQ1MR_e3lbTL5gqGezLVVu8LOgNiYxTSx5fxrYmBd0ffgLljwFCtt8jlB6hC54J2qrTvNsmieIaAPGJP-_stMargTqbnAdvmf4tN8Zm8YZvCzgkmDoJ3TbkSPiDgHxID4vpdTsuFBAc/s1600/P4212714-737554.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJSQ1MR_e3lbTL5gqGezLVVu8LOgNiYxTSx5fxrYmBd0ffgLljwFCtt8jlB6hC54J2qrTvNsmieIaAPGJP-_stMargTqbnAdvmf4tN8Zm8YZvCzgkmDoJ3TbkSPiDgHxID4vpdTsuFBAc/s320/P4212714-737554.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5869453510615818338" /></a><br> <tt><br> Photo: Pierre's little Cup and it's original size.<br> <br> To ease the tension of not finding much of the blob, a competition is proposed: who can guess how much we will find? previous year's maximums have been around 1 and 0.5</tt><tt> (in Femto-Moles - 0.000000000000001 moles)</tt><tt>. This cruise it is barely above 0.15. Some have boldly predicted the tracer is centred up this way and we will catch it at around 0.5. Others are more pessimistic and predict there will be almost none. I am assuming the people who say higher are as right as the people who say lower. So my best guess is that we will find the blob at the same concentration we have all voyage...so that's what I go for...I won't gloat...but...so far I am right....<br> <br> </tt><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMRRYLfP4fUDS48AAfNAQOgaA4ojziV8GTIDsTh5jv0CLfDRPpsC8MsmWhZ4Cd5w5poKGMZtAL8JXauD0FSyBL1stnDngNkBtXpTYM4d-U2_BFWapRuS-Wiss7rNaHmFmXOEvftIXld5s/s1600/P4212718-739646.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMRRYLfP4fUDS48AAfNAQOgaA4ojziV8GTIDsTh5jv0CLfDRPpsC8MsmWhZ4Cd5w5poKGMZtAL8JXauD0FSyBL1stnDngNkBtXpTYM4d-U2_BFWapRuS-Wiss7rNaHmFmXOEvftIXld5s/s320/P4212718-739646.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5869453512738389794" /></a><br> <tt><br> Photo: The 'tracer worm' showing what everyone guessed. (I won't gloat yet...)<br> <br> Picking the peak tracer isn't the only game going around the ship. A game of 'Killers' has been instigated. Each player gets the name of another player. This is their mark. The mark must be found alone and the words 'your dead' uttered (preferably followed by an evil laugh). No witnesses. </tt><tt>The mark carried by the dead is passed on and the killer. They pursue their new mark and on the game goes...until only two are left. </tt><tt>It may ease the monotony, but the tension could be cut with a dagger (to the back). Over a beer the first night of the competition, names are passed around with much laughter and comradeship. Within minutes-silence. No one wants to go to bed...at least not alone. Bladders become strained. By early morning countless dead...and only a few of us now stand...<br> <br> Cheers<br> Jan<br> </tt> Jan Zikahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06482379177409674651noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1962151185835358599.post-1782275189028070012013-04-19T12:02:00.000-07:002013-04-19T11:42:06.459-07:00South Georgia, over the mountains and far awayWe left our heroes standing looking dubiously at the peaks of South Georgia, unsure if they were worthy of tackling the legacy of Shackleton, even on a sunny day in April where the weather report contained nothing more sinister than 'Possible sideways snow blasting. Light to variable.'. Stirred by the accuracy of the UK weather forecasting system, nominally one of the reasons that such out of the way rocks as South Georgia were occupied in the first place, we squared our shoulders, kicked free of the seals gripping our shins, and pushed on up the steep slope leading from Grytviken into the foothills of the island. <br> <br> <div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjogKjWui1TaTeSbWav5KUJ-WGrRc4-vsyOlN7IswTTh3IONt5GyWxMfTbbQqjTKPc0bhf3PIwp2zIs6FmCijC4Abld17x_krLpFFX0SIs6qT-DXugSylFDV_fvo9MlnTIJWYkxtkF4KwQ/s1600/icebergs-726461.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjogKjWui1TaTeSbWav5KUJ-WGrRc4-vsyOlN7IswTTh3IONt5GyWxMfTbbQqjTKPc0bhf3PIwp2zIs6FmCijC4Abld17x_krLpFFX0SIs6qT-DXugSylFDV_fvo9MlnTIJWYkxtkF4KwQ/s320/icebergs-726461.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5868630116119893266" /></a><br> </div> <div align="center">Grytviken Bay: Pretty if you like that kind of thing. <br> </div> <br> I have found that the word 'hill' is an extremely culturally dependent word. In Tasmania, where Jan and I hail from, is considered perfectly acceptable to own a car with a faulty starter motor, as it is almost impossible to park it somewhere where roll starting down a substantial slope is out of the question. In contrast, when I moved to Cambridge in the UK, I would often see panicked looks come across local's faces when I suggested sitting upstairs in the pub. However, after being at sea for over a month where the most substantial climb you do daily is from the floor back up onto the barstool, the precipitous slopes of South Georgia looked formidable. Puffing and rapidly shedding layers of wildly inappropriate Antarctic gear, our rapidly shrinking party arrived at our first stop, the dammed and picturesque Gull Lake sitting directly above Grytviken and Shackleton's dubiously oriented grave. Wiping the sweat aside and peeling yet another ill applied layer of thermal underwear off, we peered squintingly into the sun at our destination, the peak of Mount Hodges. Climbing up to the lake from Grytviken had seemingly brought the peak no closer at all, but had mysteriously magnified its height several times. Several of the party began rummaging through their day packs and, feigning surprise at finding an absence of crampons and oxygen bottles, decided that Penguin River sounded like a much more appealing destination. They paused briefly to innocuously gather the names of our next of kins and then shuffled off around the lake. <br> <br> Being made of sterner, and decidedly more dense stuff, Paul, Pierre, Jan and myself decided to press on, confident in our photocopied map that looked like it had been transcribed by a Parkinson's sufferer with a crayon and the third engineer's confident parting assertion that 'you can't miss the way up'. In retrospect taking mountaineering advice from a man named Mango may have been unwise, but the day was sunny, we were young(ish) and what could possibly go wrong? Fairly immediately something went wrong. Our first goal after Gull Lake had been to find the glacier that ran down the south side of Mt Hodges and 'just stick to the right hand side of it'. Glaciers are typically fairly intrusive bits of terrain, and not easily overlooked, but after searching through the bare, rocky valley we concluded that several million tonnes of ice were not to be found and that either we were a bit lost or Mango was substantially older than he looked. Deciding on the latter we pushed up the valley looking for what remained of the glacial tongue after 150 years of global warming. <br> <br> <div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLyYt39S-1Pwq-5Uw2WQfh47SacYKxri4KaK-kbaouoJS24LcJNkXoLRTVNDuis4MsqvygkKSw3W4F6l891JNnIi4NCrxE1dGCNNyidhhskQNcMPoqGfpxxczPm5caJnybh7XgBguadlM/s1600/no_glaciers-728314.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLyYt39S-1Pwq-5Uw2WQfh47SacYKxri4KaK-kbaouoJS24LcJNkXoLRTVNDuis4MsqvygkKSw3W4F6l891JNnIi4NCrxE1dGCNNyidhhskQNcMPoqGfpxxczPm5caJnybh7XgBguadlM/s320/no_glaciers-728314.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5868630122021620082" /></a><br> </div> <div align="center">Have you checked behind the couch? No glacier to be found.<br> </div> <br> As we trudged onwards we were increasingly aware that we were not gaining much height, but getting closer and closer to the peak. Consequently the slopes leading from our valley floor up to the mountain on our right were getting steeper and steeper. Jan's keen mathematical brain seized on this bit of geometry and suggested that it would make our life easier if we started climbing the ridge now, rather than wait for it to get even steeper further along the valley. Nodding sagely and quietly wondering how we could get coauthor status on this geophysical insight, we all agreed and headed more or less directly up the steep rock strewn slope towards our goal. <br> <br> <div align="center"> <div align="left"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiL6W-VuVSk0OMXKnGMtx2gYjjl3AjurGafhMtxOc3rhlsWubSvwwDeiq311a9UU5w3W7GE9DBBDTBcjsDV2i5thFJmtMZIszQBnZnIYsx5zhVJvc-abMcekiSwjeXFLC-CUK4ATC-Uz9k/s1600/steep-730332.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiL6W-VuVSk0OMXKnGMtx2gYjjl3AjurGafhMtxOc3rhlsWubSvwwDeiq311a9UU5w3W7GE9DBBDTBcjsDV2i5thFJmtMZIszQBnZnIYsx5zhVJvc-abMcekiSwjeXFLC-CUK4ATC-Uz9k/s320/steep-730332.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5868630129426703938" /></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGtZb9lccjE70qt9aej2OKKLYkAZ1d4r5NtHggojhtaWgaYWWiduHpCqXL0VPA2YGh2bo2IleGwLkaPXDYuaO2IPYeXIhhrNDPDUTFmtazo_rGF8vVFZzg_hkkSWlF9DKzW0qXqVfh8IM/s1600/perfectly_safe-732286.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGtZb9lccjE70qt9aej2OKKLYkAZ1d4r5NtHggojhtaWgaYWWiduHpCqXL0VPA2YGh2bo2IleGwLkaPXDYuaO2IPYeXIhhrNDPDUTFmtazo_rGF8vVFZzg_hkkSWlF9DKzW0qXqVfh8IM/s320/perfectly_safe-732286.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5868630136374619826" /></a><br> </div> Moderately steep, and perfectly safe for trained professionals <br> </div> <br> Now, a quick physics lesson. Objects, for example head sized rocks, gain energy the higher up they are raised. This energy is called potential energy. Objects such as boulders perched on mountains have a lot of it. In general, objects, even stones of approximately skull size sitting at rest, want to get rid of this potential energy. They usually do this by swapping their potential energy for kinetic, which is the energy of moving objects. No one really knows why rocks feel compelled to do this, but on this slope they liked to do it as fast as possible, often with only the slightest of prodding to inspire them to take off to the distant valley floor. Perhaps they read in the Geological Times that kinetic energy is the in thing this epoch? Or maybe it is just to, literally, keep up with that nice dolerite couple next door? In any event noggin sized boulders were soon being liberally dislodged and leaping excitedly down to the valley below, bounding past the much less happy climbers at the rear. By the time our man from the Alps, Pierre, decreed that 'Zis is not good. Zees is quieet dangerous', we had gone too far and to go back down was probably more dangerous that continuing up. Leaving a bit more room between us for the newly liberated rocks to enjoy their freedom, and wondering why BAS decreed hard hats essential for sampling water bottles but not mountaineering, we pressed onwards and upwards. <br> <br> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIvSZ4441zS1o9V_cF5k8edeNdhPYLRuXDTl85MkAdj5gj09QMrvk7gsi__wyskWbT4B4GAT2IE0cfYLt16N53PMCpgbPfWBC6EhHFLWKKForwZoGnYwLGFzbLdpNBpjSdohvs58Y5eXk/s1600/panorama_mnt-734322.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIvSZ4441zS1o9V_cF5k8edeNdhPYLRuXDTl85MkAdj5gj09QMrvk7gsi__wyskWbT4B4GAT2IE0cfYLt16N53PMCpgbPfWBC6EhHFLWKKForwZoGnYwLGFzbLdpNBpjSdohvs58Y5eXk/s320/panorama_mnt-734322.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5868630146523742274" /></a><br> <div align="center">Spectacular: The view from Mt Hodges<br> </div> <br> As we stumbled past one last false crest, quietly cursing the venerable Mango's directions, we suddenly discovered that there wasn't any more up to climb. We had reached the peak, and all around us we could see the magnificent panorama of South Georgia basking in the unexpected sunshine. Deciding that simply standing on top of an exposed mountain on a Subantarctic island in Autumn wasn't a good enough reason to continue to ignore the blissfully warm sun, we tore the last of our beanies off. Instead we donned shades and fumbled for the suncream needed at these latitudes thanks to the ongoing good work of chlorofluorocarbons in the ozone layer. Giddy with the unexpected coincidence of both our survival and arrival at the correct destination we opened up our stashes of goodies and shared them out, even with Pierre who had decided that nine hours of mountain hiking didn't really warrant any supplies. We noted that even here we could still hear the blood-thirsty cries of the seals in Grytviken, several km away and 600 m straight down. Their calls will no doubt haunt our waking dreams until our final days. <br> <br> <div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEd9sKSWXJjjjjK_3QOiH3xL9-HikrglF2jZg6AHIMYGRhgo_CL7oohyphenhyphenMxhieBmgNDiVplZuxyCmy4YA0p6DvGgOLhX-V9cgszKfvl2zIVSVFd0UBCFadkRDXKQZSnLoZLm_KUmP_EaM0/s1600/mountain_group-736134.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEd9sKSWXJjjjjK_3QOiH3xL9-HikrglF2jZg6AHIMYGRhgo_CL7oohyphenhyphenMxhieBmgNDiVplZuxyCmy4YA0p6DvGgOLhX-V9cgszKfvl2zIVSVFd0UBCFadkRDXKQZSnLoZLm_KUmP_EaM0/s320/mountain_group-736134.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5868630156316272402" /></a><br> Bloody tourists: Andrew, Pierre, Jan and Paul. Note the highly appropriate technical clothing.<br> </div> <br> After recording every angle of the vista in several gigapixels we engaged on the traditional argument of explorers who have achieved their destination; what the hell to do now? Going against the obvious option of setting up an isolated township to spear whales, reducing their fat to an oil and selling this to make soap, we elected to avoid the horrible scree slope we came up. Instead we would push on down the other face of the mountain and make our way back to the town from the opposite side we had left. It couldn't be worse. Right?<br> <br> <div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn39GDx2qhGELLYyOhvQ7s1Yh8dTlyW6MkTTYj0UrFMOgcqSuhUDQe5FDcsr_O_9doP4qHJgVOtB44CO0FhyphenhyphenM_u2yKNTWZbI-hnEO_Tmc4BlwcCfcVDjio3NuoHSptTYkLVdzUMNxIt2k/s1600/king_of_the_world-737370.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn39GDx2qhGELLYyOhvQ7s1Yh8dTlyW6MkTTYj0UrFMOgcqSuhUDQe5FDcsr_O_9doP4qHJgVOtB44CO0FhyphenhyphenM_u2yKNTWZbI-hnEO_Tmc4BlwcCfcVDjio3NuoHSptTYkLVdzUMNxIt2k/s320/king_of_the_world-737370.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5868630159394267346" /></a><br> </div> <div align="center">'I'm king of the world!' Pierre was pushed to his well deserved doom immediately after.<br> <br> </div> In the end, and in defiance of all good storytelling convention, it actually wasn't worse. We came down off the mountain in quick time, and soon were traipsing across the easy going lunar landscape on the valley leading down the far side of the mountain. In these mountains not a single plant grows, and there is nothing really but rocks and small tarn lakes, formed from the snows of last winter and glaciers remembered only by misleadingly youthful ship's engineers. Delirious with his first encounter with sunshine since moving to the United Kingdom, or possibly his choice of mountaingoing sweatpants, Jan decreed that it was time for a swim. Paul and I declared him firmly insane and quickly moved to claim his chocolate rations, but Pierre was already down to his boxers and dancing towards the pond across the rocks. Incidentally, as well as being loose and heavy, the rocks were also razor sharp. Deciding that the epitaph of 'Men pour beer on national hero's grave, molest seals, freeze to death in alpine lake; Good riddance' was as good as any, Paul and I started carefully removing clothing too. Soon all four of us stood on the waters edge, spongy and white after four weeks of living indoors on two desserts a day. Then, like lemmings, we plunged into the water. The photos below are probably a good enough description of how it felt. <br> <br> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcd1UBKds_DdQwwMDJagG2MB3zDQES_rOCxqcpSZ_BE98ogNG8K9aa3PLloAJh47NydMHvepEdUoalWAlK0QTAYNFgtbxw-cMU5jlfYF6kVxpSspWBbjTDreSt1DSOkmxiMAiT5e5NCNQ/s1600/all_in-738634.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcd1UBKds_DdQwwMDJagG2MB3zDQES_rOCxqcpSZ_BE98ogNG8K9aa3PLloAJh47NydMHvepEdUoalWAlK0QTAYNFgtbxw-cMU5jlfYF6kVxpSspWBbjTDreSt1DSOkmxiMAiT5e5NCNQ/s320/all_in-738634.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5868630168149375266" /></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinHkIlJQUdkkATZ2dMfiA2S0fTl1xDm6KZjfsPMn4yFWrnfdR_y2TyJfvKsDwkQVVZvUHD9ChwInQxD6REX68vWAuGsN3SxyqQjAERRbWOEvnRXsfP9SMcsx63fEUK9UFvii7eauKNpIs/s1600/jan_water-740447.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinHkIlJQUdkkATZ2dMfiA2S0fTl1xDm6KZjfsPMn4yFWrnfdR_y2TyJfvKsDwkQVVZvUHD9ChwInQxD6REX68vWAuGsN3SxyqQjAERRbWOEvnRXsfP9SMcsx63fEUK9UFvii7eauKNpIs/s320/jan_water-740447.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5868630173118972898" /></a><br> <br> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmvlymKyJRTr7IkCsVEPUj_yRx0CiY81MMy3TN8SW3VXfFvDdWjtAQt9zuoAS9fSr_H1-l481M5uJijdmmD-zNirN8UeVslo9J2Zo6CQ8sFxcREQMe2y39UnViA4ToELRFwgW9dZuWYR4/s1600/andrew_water-742450.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmvlymKyJRTr7IkCsVEPUj_yRx0CiY81MMy3TN8SW3VXfFvDdWjtAQt9zuoAS9fSr_H1-l481M5uJijdmmD-zNirN8UeVslo9J2Zo6CQ8sFxcREQMe2y39UnViA4ToELRFwgW9dZuWYR4/s320/andrew_water-742450.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5868630181656765682" /></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXEN6AIAicKXLs5ylnC_w2q2QQs8NaYYG2bSLxDAzuIs9afS5sUJQua0wbUVDuhVETMApkNueB74ltj0WJ7Y1slHrMxyYKOJP3BFI5hqbldSjBLEFSC173-aG9HWgSgWAngLWXraMz5YQ/s1600/paul_water-744218.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXEN6AIAicKXLs5ylnC_w2q2QQs8NaYYG2bSLxDAzuIs9afS5sUJQua0wbUVDuhVETMApkNueB74ltj0WJ7Y1slHrMxyYKOJP3BFI5hqbldSjBLEFSC173-aG9HWgSgWAngLWXraMz5YQ/s320/paul_water-744218.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5868630192053667986" /></a><br> <div align="center">Morons<br> </div> <br> Invigorating is probably the most charitable way to put it. Jan immediately christened the pool 'Spanner Lake' for its tightening effects. Despite the water being, oddly enough, chest tighteningly, hand crushingly, cold, once we clambered out it was warm enough to simply drip dry. We passed a fairly magical fifteen or so minutes regressing to our youths while we stood with the sun on our backs and skipped stones across the pond. For a few moments the rest of the world felt very far away. At some point, however, we realised that we were a bunch of thirty year old physicists standing on a mountain in our underwear. So we struggled into our clothes and set off down the hill again, all in great spirits and on adrenalin highs from our dunkings. After a few wrong turns, notably where we forgivably mistook a vertical ravine for the path back to town, we made it down into the valley leading to Grytviken. This was helpfully labelled in crayola on our geriatric maps as 'single scientist limit'. This presumably means that lone scientists are allowed to wander that far from the base and people wouldn't have to look too far to find their bodies. <br> <br> <div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSQuL12MoQXnbTFkhaJp0jdPxoNB5RdJZkR_Wp-UwYYEac_IKKNogr2Kz5vgZ7HNbB-alKiPFfey1bKGqS8BTMFlYOyWZfTOjpa3O3L_Y8zFYP_4ZX5xstBW7q-zKbsfGq1h4obM-1Cl0/s1600/maiviken-745583.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSQuL12MoQXnbTFkhaJp0jdPxoNB5RdJZkR_Wp-UwYYEac_IKKNogr2Kz5vgZ7HNbB-alKiPFfey1bKGqS8BTMFlYOyWZfTOjpa3O3L_Y8zFYP_4ZX5xstBW7q-zKbsfGq1h4obM-1Cl0/s320/maiviken-745583.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5868630193750121042" /></a><br> Miaviken Bay. The mud immediately ahead is the track.<br> </div> <br> Not yet suitably exhausted, Pierre and I struck off to Miaviken, a fjord to the north, while Paul and Jan decided that a trip to the post office in town was in order and headed back south. They hadn't previously struck me as philatelists, but it's a perfectly valid lifestyle choice and one shouldn't judge. Pierre and I enjoyed the change from mountains to grassy meadows and discovering that the seals of that cove were at least as unfriendly as those around Grytviken, but substantially larger as well as being masters of camouflage in the long grass. <br> <br> <div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglegMIRqQlM092F64xS7UrZgJrCEFMtINIEprSd_ZPWzo2-JumN8CTbul3kn-_xh4jw6iSoqtBvHNHuf-0JhmN7oDyOAqinWPv_5wrdthB71og4-uA6WFI3YDmPZ1d7LmOEWPbBQa39Qo/s1600/grass_seal-747099.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglegMIRqQlM092F64xS7UrZgJrCEFMtINIEprSd_ZPWzo2-JumN8CTbul3kn-_xh4jw6iSoqtBvHNHuf-0JhmN7oDyOAqinWPv_5wrdthB71og4-uA6WFI3YDmPZ1d7LmOEWPbBQa39Qo/s320/grass_seal-747099.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5868630202906563394" /></a><br> Things you don't want to step on in the long grass. An <i>Elephant </i>seal no less.<br> </div> <br> As dusk began to fall we said goodbye to this beautiful, wild and amazing place and headed back to King Edward Point. Here we were welcomed by the base locals with a roaring fire and barbecue. On the menu were the poor introduced reindeer, who having somehow survived the seals for almost a century were now being removed from the island in the tastiest possible way. The whole ship's compliment stood with our backs to the fire, listening to the growls of the seals from the darkness and reflecting on a day of opportunity well and truly seized. <br> <br> <div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimp7N3uTaSU2grR25Zvh__2PCw5F7-0N388QCrv6HNysGiXxqk85cOhYNH0P-FQbQzfitW_SWYLJZuM8rBE-JS0AY6QoE5rYGE1-ArmgJcirGhCFNIjGcybSLKVGldmElDYAv41EoyDbg/s1600/night_shot-748393.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimp7N3uTaSU2grR25Zvh__2PCw5F7-0N388QCrv6HNysGiXxqk85cOhYNH0P-FQbQzfitW_SWYLJZuM8rBE-JS0AY6QoE5rYGE1-ArmgJcirGhCFNIjGcybSLKVGldmElDYAv41EoyDbg/s320/night_shot-748393.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5868630208451179794" /></a><br> The RSS James Clark Ross tied up at the King Edward Point barbecue hut<br> </div> <br> Andrew<br> <br> <br> <br> <br> <br> <br> <br> <br> <br> <br> <br> <br> <br> <br> <br> <br> <br> <br> <br> <br> <br> <br> Jan Zikahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06482379177409674651noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1962151185835358599.post-4272323182195452912013-04-17T18:49:00.001-07:002013-04-17T18:49:48.471-07:00Day 32: All that way just to spell your name?The scientist and crew are all very grateful to JB. He has managed to coordinate the cruise well so far. We have seen sea-ice, whales and South Georgia. Today he is attempting to cash in some of that kudos. He wants to fulfill a lifelong dream: to write his name in the ocean...<br> <br> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhyphenhyphen5lxDk0eogtGzic_bZb3Zqpkpunxk06aFfatTy5aQfvAZf2HdvUKoHIMv-DegOPV5kPvDcjyLRT_XCxjdswdehQooZjuaQ0bmTFlS5RUYRyk2FZnqxee6ji-fzx0dINK_LrRRRTsB2U/s1600/P4172679-788471.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhyphenhyphen5lxDk0eogtGzic_bZb3Zqpkpunxk06aFfatTy5aQfvAZf2HdvUKoHIMv-DegOPV5kPvDcjyLRT_XCxjdswdehQooZjuaQ0bmTFlS5RUYRyk2FZnqxee6ji-fzx0dINK_LrRRRTsB2U/s320/P4172679-788471.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5867998162357824498" /></a><br> <br> <br> Photo 1: JB, hoping to write his name in ship track. Gwyn is dubious as to his motives.<br> <br> Jesting aside (as Brian K would say), our cruise track is changing quite significantly from our original plan. The reason (at least the one JB is sticking too) is that the tracer concentration is very low where we are. It is about one tenth the concentration it was this time last year. Back then it was clearly centred between South America and Antarctica. This time we are measuring the tailing end of the blob. It has slipped between our fingers into the Atlantic. (For those who remember the Squash/cordial analogy we are following it downstream and the taste is weak but getting stronger). We have 10 days left...so North we will head...in pursuit. The Fact that on JB's last cruise he drew a J shape and this time it will look like a B...coincidence?<br> <br> <br> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvnV2SEHsyRP08uNW-CzLh_EFpNMCI16rfSO1CE7hkhNAhY94HAcyZmSEQkk29aGg76XjQ2kTslhVSYgy4Akb6b2GUmJXfxQHJHXVlKnjH2cdZurJxCRXMGeDP9LjL5dNO1Qp3HeTqz24/s1600/P4172682-790196.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvnV2SEHsyRP08uNW-CzLh_EFpNMCI16rfSO1CE7hkhNAhY94HAcyZmSEQkk29aGg76XjQ2kTslhVSYgy4Akb6b2GUmJXfxQHJHXVlKnjH2cdZurJxCRXMGeDP9LjL5dNO1Qp3HeTqz24/s320/P4172682-790196.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5867998167727010162" /></a><br> <br> Photo 2: We hope that this "B-line" will take us to the core of the blob. If not, it may be lost forever.<br> <br> We will find the blob! Stay tuned<br> <br> Jan<br> Jan Zikahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06482379177409674651noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1962151185835358599.post-33052676372648976582013-04-16T16:52:00.000-07:002013-04-16T16:53:27.899-07:00Day 31: Sometimes science does work in the real world<tt>We are done with Icebergs. We are done with penguins, done with whales. There will be no more jollies and no more ice-scapes. It is time to work. Between South Georgia and our return to the Falklands we will be doing non-stop CTDs and VMPs. We are crossing the North Scotia Ridge. Those tired of numerical names and acronyms will be pleased to hear we are currently in 'Shag Rocks Passage'. Brian K tells me the last time he was during the 'ShagEx-The Shagrocks Experiment'. The Shag Rocks are a chain of under-sea mountains which interrupt the flow of the Antarctic Circumpolar Current. We expect the blob to be in the core of the current and mixing as it punches through the passage.<br> <br> </tt><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5frE99PVKYc2G85m8jbpowVFLxUx9yHSyS1I56voDyDzkVq77HBzCwo-cKXvhe2Ce82XsCO27L_WW1qfSEZXvUQdsS22Pw23fSpDlBEfBo27_75ohKQct3OKLP6NbPgJYBVWNUAKZUjM/s1600/Day31_2-707900.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5frE99PVKYc2G85m8jbpowVFLxUx9yHSyS1I56voDyDzkVq77HBzCwo-cKXvhe2Ce82XsCO27L_WW1qfSEZXvUQdsS22Pw23fSpDlBEfBo27_75ohKQct3OKLP6NbPgJYBVWNUAKZUjM/s320/Day31_2-707900.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5867597096703088018" /></a><br> <br> Photo 1: You might have seen these 'billows' in the sky. They occur in the deep ocean too!<br> <tt><br> Just today some 'wow it really works!' science was done. Have you ever looked up to the clouds and seen them swirling like beautiful overturning waves? The type with a long wisp. If you are lucky there are a whole set of them lined up. These billows are formed when a dense fluid - the cloud - flows under light fluid - the air above. If the cloud is flowing one way and the air above the other then little ripples can grow and eventually form the crashing cusps one might surf in a surreal dream. What is cool is that if you know the difference in the speed of the air and the cloud, and you know how much heavier the cloud is than the air - you can predict if the waves will form or not. The theory doesn't only apply to clouds. It is thought that much of the mixing in the ocean (that which is churning up our blob of tracer) is caused by these billows forming and breaking as deep dense currents flow under light surface waters. <br> <br> Today, while measuring the flow through Shagg-Rocks, Alex and Gwynn's VMP (the mixing thingy) showed a big jump in mixing rates at about 2km down. When we looked at Xing Feng's LADCP (the water velocity thingy) showed a strong current below 2km pushing through the passage. And...when we looked at the CTD data (the salinity-temperature-density thingy) it turned out the velocity difference and the weight difference where spot on to give us the mixing we saw. Having met Louis Howard, one of the guys who came up with the theory simply with a pen and paper and the laws of physics, now in his nineties. It is really amazing to come out here in the middle of a turbulent ocean, drop something over the side and tada! Physics works!...at least this time.<br> <br> <br> </tt><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYxy8xvj2sHS2aazinI8TgKMrOR73P2PPqHQj1Ruqw55Dn1pl9AfZNlQo65jpLFNPGTC-TegL4aoPS2FgW6BK0uoqwsMkAcGYWtBLvmxOSr6cJGyZZBsVsZVZI-uxIVEjk1d7rUciyFJc/s1600/Day31_3-710639.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYxy8xvj2sHS2aazinI8TgKMrOR73P2PPqHQj1Ruqw55Dn1pl9AfZNlQo65jpLFNPGTC-TegL4aoPS2FgW6BK0uoqwsMkAcGYWtBLvmxOSr6cJGyZZBsVsZVZI-uxIVEjk1d7rUciyFJc/s320/Day31_3-710639.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5867597105127991122" /></a><br> <tt>Photo2 : The measurements which seem to confirm the theory.<br> <br> <br> </tt><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5frE99PVKYc2G85m8jbpowVFLxUx9yHSyS1I56voDyDzkVq77HBzCwo-cKXvhe2Ce82XsCO27L_WW1qfSEZXvUQdsS22Pw23fSpDlBEfBo27_75ohKQct3OKLP6NbPgJYBVWNUAKZUjM/s1600/Day31_2-707900.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5frE99PVKYc2G85m8jbpowVFLxUx9yHSyS1I56voDyDzkVq77HBzCwo-cKXvhe2Ce82XsCO27L_WW1qfSEZXvUQdsS22Pw23fSpDlBEfBo27_75ohKQct3OKLP6NbPgJYBVWNUAKZUjM/s320/Day31_2-707900.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5867597096703088018" /></a><br> <tt><br> Photo 3: Brian K attempting to grab a piece of 'Shag Rock' on the map<br> <br> </tt> Jan Zikahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06482379177409674651noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1962151185835358599.post-50745190495595667642013-04-16T16:37:00.000-07:002013-04-16T16:47:25.685-07:00Day 31: Sometimes science does work in the real world<tt>We are done with Icebergs. We are done with penguins, done with whales. There will be no more jollies and no more ice-scapes. It is time to work. Between South Georgia and our return to the Falklands we will be doing non-stop CTDs and VMPs. We are crossing the North Scotia Ridge. Those tired of numerical names and acronyms will be pleased to hear we are currently in 'Shag Rocks Passage'. Brian K tells me the last time he was during the 'ShagEx-The Shagrocks Experiment'. The Shag Rocks are a chain of under-sea mountains which interrupt the flow of the Antarctic Circumpolar Current. We expect the blob to be in the core of the current and mixing as it punches through the passage.<br> <br> </tt><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv2s304NMmam7Iazk3uIMuRBgvcnxCuOWT1Zdiflqx31Lijf1gFSQIHKYTb6noe8Z-q6GnNfWOHK0GgH_E1jHnDOza2ksjXYi3H5B5xMkTWzYKPFsS8mrTNfpQVMdcVvfx8uYvOiLHFOQ/s1600/Day31_2-745686.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv2s304NMmam7Iazk3uIMuRBgvcnxCuOWT1Zdiflqx31Lijf1gFSQIHKYTb6noe8Z-q6GnNfWOHK0GgH_E1jHnDOza2ksjXYi3H5B5xMkTWzYKPFsS8mrTNfpQVMdcVvfx8uYvOiLHFOQ/s320/Day31_2-745686.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5867595537326698722" /></a><br> <br> Photo 1: You might have seen these 'billows' in the sky. They occur in the deep ocean too!<br> <tt><br> Just today some 'wow it really works!' science was done. Have you ever looked up to the clouds and seen them swirling like beautiful overturning waves? The type with a long wisp. If you are lucky there are a whole set of them lined up. These billows are formed when a dense fluid - the cloud - flows under light fluid - the air above. If the cloud is flowing one way and the air above the other then little ripples can grow and eventually form the crashing cusps one might surf in a surreal dream. What is cool is that if you know the difference in the speed of the air and the cloud, and you know how much heavier the cloud is than the air - you can predict if the waves will form or not. The theory doesn't only apply to clouds. It is thought that much of the mixing in the ocean (that which is churning up our blob of tracer) is caused by these billows forming and breaking as deep dense currents flow under light surface waters. <br> <br> Today, while measuring the flow through Shagg-Rocks, Alex and Gwynn's VMP (the mixing thingy) showed a big jump in mixing rates at about 2km down. When we looked at Xing Feng's LADCP (the water velocity thingy) showed a strong current below 2km pushing through the passage. And...when we looked at the CTD data (the salinity-temperature-density thingy) it turned out the velocity difference and the weight difference where spot on to give us the mixing we saw. Having met Louis Howard, one of the guys who came up with the theory simply with a pen and paper and the laws of physics, now in his nineties. It is really amazing to come out here in the middle of a turbulent ocean, drop something over the side and tada! Physics works!...at least this time.<br> <br> <br> </tt><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjy4G0WF-OuXRfne5DGXZ8kCjuXjRyNMPJjWfKx6xTmrhHs6TWWr-YI2Gl3uvaQK7gnSbmvhNKTd_6xs2zGbioIvGj6xCT35BKxrMfkUc4-XPQx5HhyphenhyphenUnmkcfC2JjvWpWbUee_Vl75F8Rk/s1600/Day31_3-749753.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjy4G0WF-OuXRfne5DGXZ8kCjuXjRyNMPJjWfKx6xTmrhHs6TWWr-YI2Gl3uvaQK7gnSbmvhNKTd_6xs2zGbioIvGj6xCT35BKxrMfkUc4-XPQx5HhyphenhyphenUnmkcfC2JjvWpWbUee_Vl75F8Rk/s320/Day31_3-749753.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5867595553631648498" /></a><br> <tt>Photo2 : The measurements which seem to confirm the theory.<br> <br> <br> </tt><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv2s304NMmam7Iazk3uIMuRBgvcnxCuOWT1Zdiflqx31Lijf1gFSQIHKYTb6noe8Z-q6GnNfWOHK0GgH_E1jHnDOza2ksjXYi3H5B5xMkTWzYKPFsS8mrTNfpQVMdcVvfx8uYvOiLHFOQ/s1600/Day31_2-745686.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv2s304NMmam7Iazk3uIMuRBgvcnxCuOWT1Zdiflqx31Lijf1gFSQIHKYTb6noe8Z-q6GnNfWOHK0GgH_E1jHnDOza2ksjXYi3H5B5xMkTWzYKPFsS8mrTNfpQVMdcVvfx8uYvOiLHFOQ/s320/Day31_2-745686.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5867595537326698722" /></a><br> <tt><br> Photo 3: Brian K attempting to grab a piece of 'Shag Rock' on the map<br> <br> </tt> Jan Zikahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06482379177409674651noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1962151185835358599.post-82562594295088795102013-04-14T23:34:00.000-07:002013-04-14T23:04:25.930-07:00A visit to South GeorgiaHi again blogwatchers, both of you!<br> <div class="moz-forward-container"> <br> Last Friday was a special day. We’d been promised a stop at South Georgia all cruise long, but it had always been threatened to be cut out to make up for delays or possibly impossible due to high winds at the awkward mooring site. But, as dawn came two days ago we were awoken to by the sight of towering snow capped mountains jutting straight out of the sea, interspersed with massive glaciers and numerous bays dotted with freshly minted icebergs glowing yellow in the first light. Even more magical was the wind on the monkey island (the ship's roof to lubbers) where we all gathered to take pictures. Rather than the traditional teeth shattering gale, it was actually warm. Having been warned that South Georgia would be some sort of glacial death zone, raining and snowing 320+ days a year and populated entirely by man eating fur seals, the blue sky and mirror finish bay flanked by luxuriant cushion grass and tumbling brooks looked a bit incongruous. Possibly the whole thing had been dreamt up by Shackleton’s PR department? <br> <br> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd8OeHxYZnAiQQzgHzkqjVjVvN0mL03fWOlgmYLDtOMJeWaV6ALmyhdb8VvSQkKLFsPVM6BdLu2UZPi3UP3xlTL-WSGD6vB2-6wcpeYKO0IAVw0loe1L4QMKJS7Ij5_bdGtjtSi_s9Xbg/s1600/scenery-765933.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd8OeHxYZnAiQQzgHzkqjVjVvN0mL03fWOlgmYLDtOMJeWaV6ALmyhdb8VvSQkKLFsPVM6BdLu2UZPi3UP3xlTL-WSGD6vB2-6wcpeYKO0IAVw0loe1L4QMKJS7Ij5_bdGtjtSi_s9Xbg/s320/scenery-765933.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5866950522827628002" /></a><br> <br> <div align="center">Not as bad as it looks.<br> </div> <br> The JCR pulled rank on the ship presently resident at the one ship dock at King Edward Point (the BAS base) and forced them to stand off to sea for 24 hours while we did vital science tourism. We impatiently listened to the quick briefing by the base commander and then took off ashore armed with day packs bulging with foul weather gear, slabs of bread pilfered from the galley and several terabytes of blank memory cards. The party quickly spread out, with some visiting the historical ruins and museums, others heading for the hills and one or two keen philatelists (word of the day) heading to the post office that inevitably marks the far flung outposts of the British Empire. Some of these places presumably consist only of a post office and a postmaster who has annoyed someone. Our small band had a plan to seize the day, and cram as much possible into the daylight hours. <br> <br> <br> <div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjq2T4XiiT-RJwu0DnMsb0sg5MpkiQ-M0nsZ1CYNc1u1w4VKaY-3q0ytwM3htT4pptL7HKbvSBcIK2uU7yhdW9_lVksBNm65VCsH-kh2Oi5VKz6wRNWUkT1zIvoeHDX9wyuj61Dey_r1PU/s1600/bm-image-767760.jpeg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjq2T4XiiT-RJwu0DnMsb0sg5MpkiQ-M0nsZ1CYNc1u1w4VKaY-3q0ytwM3htT4pptL7HKbvSBcIK2uU7yhdW9_lVksBNm65VCsH-kh2Oi5VKz6wRNWUkT1zIvoeHDX9wyuj61Dey_r1PU/s320/bm-image-767760.jpeg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5866950532815299218" /></a><br> </div> <div align="center"><br> Grytviken viewed from KEP.<br> </div> <br> First stop, at 9 am, was the traditional drink with the boss. Shackleton’s grave sits on the opposite side of the bay from KEP at the end of a gravel road that passes through the abandoned whaling station of Grytviken. Ambling along the road, and enjoying standing on firm ground again, we encountered our first fur seal pups and everyone began fumbling with their cameras. To be frank, these things are adorable. Imagine a small fuzzy ball of long whiskers, ridiculously oversized flippers and huge black eyes that look imploringly up to you. Even their uncoordinated waddle seems precisely calibrated to melt hearts. Basically, they're so sweet that simply looking at them can inflict type 2 diabetes. Until they get close to you that is, at which point their eyes glow red and they open their fang lined mouths and charge in at a gallop. Let me tell you this, fur seals can produce an amazing array of sounds and all of them are threatening. They range from a mildly annoyed snort of derision to a deep bellied growl that could be used by security companies in place of, say, armed guards and dobermen. In any event, the sight of several respected scientists stumbling backwards over each other in order to get away from this foot-high hell beast was both disturbing and amusing. <br> <br> <div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5KeudbLdeGRWmJCAwkK6U-YpaEQTgT4grkeY6hdH5wteh1fhBoPrzQQ3Ae65xzT23XVvZ7qH-n0ij3J-fWV6TlibbXqIUubiOychOW9xm9utFuoJJVWLqywRlVWKlW-nFSlyoqFpQQww/s1600/bm-image-769881.jpeg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5KeudbLdeGRWmJCAwkK6U-YpaEQTgT4grkeY6hdH5wteh1fhBoPrzQQ3Ae65xzT23XVvZ7qH-n0ij3J-fWV6TlibbXqIUubiOychOW9xm9utFuoJJVWLqywRlVWKlW-nFSlyoqFpQQww/s320/bm-image-769881.jpeg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5866950540853562770" /></a><br> </div> <div align="center"><br> A cold hearted killing machine.<br> </div> <br> The entertainment starved locals know the comedy value of this first encounter, and they were probably watching with high powered lenses from the base. We later found out from them that they normally walk the beaches armed with a broom handle. Calling it a club is probably in bad taste, but evidently a stout piece of wood and a good aim is the best way to dissuade seals from snacking on bits of your anatomy. This is definitely something you want to avoid, as a big seal can weigh almost two hundred kg and their fangs are serious business. Worse, John the ship Doctor informs us, their bite carries some very nasty bacteria that make infection inevitable and leads to the terribly named condition of 'seal finger'. This name seems specifically chosen so that people will either laugh off your injury or believe that you are some kind of deviant, both ways guaranteeing insufficient sympathy for the blackening and swelling of bits of your body. Seal bites are such a problem that the small huts scattered around the island, where people go when they feel that the base simply isn't isolated enough for them, are equipped with 'seal bite kits'. Each hut has four such kits, presumably to deal with mass casualties when the seals finally get around to organising a coordinated assault. <br> <br> <div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBIhXT3OmIy3eR1zIOwZ8lYPgGxwmrM7F1xynyTb8GU3tI_lgzqSFRU4s4ZDxUZyF8XmadtuXdEWL-rK287OHP_jsRVSynujy1uZRQrAXA_dGx-FBchgfjyVz_bqC0KX76DJY3uaXL5Yg/s1600/seal_bite-772089.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBIhXT3OmIy3eR1zIOwZ8lYPgGxwmrM7F1xynyTb8GU3tI_lgzqSFRU4s4ZDxUZyF8XmadtuXdEWL-rK287OHP_jsRVSynujy1uZRQrAXA_dGx-FBchgfjyVz_bqC0KX76DJY3uaXL5Yg/s320/seal_bite-772089.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5866950548306341490" /></a> <br> <br> I'm not kidding.<br> </div> <br> In any event, our first encounter with the seals was a learning event. Everyone started taking a bit more care where they stepped, as the seals were scattered absolutely everywhere and were at the very least a tripping hazard. Mostly we got on by by keeping our distance, although Andy Watson seemed to rub the seals the wrong way with his mere presence. Others would wander by and the dozing seals would open one eye and stare malevolently. Andy strolling past absentmindedly musing on tracer concentrations would elicit a much more serious defcom level and he was more than once was forced to apply the tip of his boot in order to keep his fingers. As we rounded the bay, we passed through Grytviken, the old abandoned whaling station. Had I payed more attention in the museum I'd know why this UK outpost has a name like this. Presumably it has a lot to do with the many Norwegians buried in the cemetery where Shackleton also rests. I gather throwing things at whales was such a popular national pass time that Norwegians would literally travel to the ends of the earth, immigrating in the process, to pursue it. The norse certainly have a knack of naming manly things. Grytviken. Just the word alone sounds like it should be used to describe a group of huge hairy men with more eyes than teeth and possibly wearing helmets with wings on. I imagine they probably struggle to find a good name for something like, for example, butterflies, but if you need to name a town where people will stab whales from open boats in subzero gales, drag them to shore and then cover themselves in blood and oil, ask a Norwegian. <br> <br> <div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieGQqK8ToCzFYOnbxLeUOiAZVL6RicKbHl3xb9YO2xg8EGiIk3nTsgxSgjDTCDOnAMtQpOOgY_MMpl048Im1wW6Lr5MWjWbBgbiumBcBXiPQ0TvIYunv0Q4RHCaqhijpP6ubU55VLwtdc/s1600/seals_biting-774235.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieGQqK8ToCzFYOnbxLeUOiAZVL6RicKbHl3xb9YO2xg8EGiIk3nTsgxSgjDTCDOnAMtQpOOgY_MMpl048Im1wW6Lr5MWjWbBgbiumBcBXiPQ0TvIYunv0Q4RHCaqhijpP6ubU55VLwtdc/s320/seals_biting-774235.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5866950555618268034" /></a><br> <br> This particular species also shows affection through biting.<br> <br> </div> The town itself has seen better days, with rusting industrial whale processing machinery everywhere and several beached and decaying whaling boats, but it is certainly evocative of the brutal life that the whalers must have lived to bring nice lamp oil and perfumes to the folk at home before they discovered that they were running out of whales. It did have an excellent museum that demonstrated the remarkable amount of history that has been crammed into this little cove. From the whalers, being the light at the end of Shackleton's epic journey, hosting a small war where both sides took turns surrendering to each other and now to a busy tourism, fisheries and science destination, Grytviken and KEP have been through a lot.<br> <br> <div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzPJPRI1JNBKR4xkFJU6_XdOphR-uARnJQrTFBP2Le3DV2EPMob8XR4n3xCRjKsUHi77jfnxD37YHubFy8GJyuyyl84wD8_E_JmBhF9LCLxSI5htE6OC1f7ag29Trmx_0ImuMwo7Q4MX8/s1600/boat-776014.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzPJPRI1JNBKR4xkFJU6_XdOphR-uARnJQrTFBP2Le3DV2EPMob8XR4n3xCRjKsUHi77jfnxD37YHubFy8GJyuyyl84wD8_E_JmBhF9LCLxSI5htE6OC1f7ag29Trmx_0ImuMwo7Q4MX8/s320/boat-776014.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5866950571493471458" /></a><br> <br> Pretty sure it was an insurance job.<br> </div> <br> Pressing on through the grassy field, littered with glowering and blood thirsty seals, we came to the neat and quiet white fenced cemetery where Shackleton and others are buried. All the small white graves face the traditional east, except for the large slab denoting Shackleton's final resting place which, legend says, faces forever south. I earned no friends at all by pointing out that the stone, in fact, faces north, and for Shack to be facing south he must be lying with his feet to the stone. To the right of the stone is the much newer and smaller marker for Shackleton's 'right hand man', Frank Wild, who's ashes were recently discovered in South Africa and reinterred next to his old boss. I further compounded my unpopular literal interpretation of metaphor by pointing out that for Frank to be on Shackleton's right hand, the great man must also be planted face down. I continue to maintain that technically correct is still the best kind of correct. As one of the giants of the heroic age of Antarctic exploration (which for UK explorers traditionally meant failing with great style and bravery) Shackleton is a spiritual founder of the British Antarctic Survey. He was also a man who enjoyed a drink and so, with great reverence, several bottles of beer appeared and he was duly toasted. As tradition dictates a small sip was spilt for him to enjoy. This is something that has been going on for decades, so Shackleton must be particularly well preserved in his old age. Possibly even pickled. <br> <br> <div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoI880Vlz6Rnzjqn9xh9FptQZhJs-V8Wlk0y4h6gFVRjaH2c2I8OFe9PcvAnrjG1NmDd7HO-WLHcVZJGqXNc9JnHnCBOim6fQ-8FboPFt1LahYaLYamok30tOE2OJUo5AqCR8_T1om6GU/s1600/shacks_grave-778641.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoI880Vlz6Rnzjqn9xh9FptQZhJs-V8Wlk0y4h6gFVRjaH2c2I8OFe9PcvAnrjG1NmDd7HO-WLHcVZJGqXNc9JnHnCBOim6fQ-8FboPFt1LahYaLYamok30tOE2OJUo5AqCR8_T1om6GU/s320/shacks_grave-778641.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5866950574534480850" /></a><br> <br> Jan, Pierre, Gwyn, Andrew and Paul pay their respects. Jan appropriately sombre. <br> </div> <br> Expeditioner tradition satisfied, and inspired and humbled by the amazing determination it must have taken Shackleton and his companions to cross the rugged ice caps of South Georgia, we finished our beers and looked up at the peaks towering over us. I'll recount the tale of our own epic journey across the mountains in my next post.<br> <br> Andrew<br> <br> <br> <br> <br> <br> </div> <br> Jan Zikahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06482379177409674651noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1962151185835358599.post-30919114966876697692013-04-13T17:54:00.000-07:002013-04-13T17:55:18.983-07:00Night 29: News update from the late night tracer shift<tt>Hello again<br> <br> A special blog post from the nocturnal tracer madmen tonight! They bring much needed reggae and caffine fueled creativity to the voyage. Enjoy!<br> <br> Jan<br> <br> NEWS UPDATE FROM THE TRACER NIGHT SHIFT<br> </tt><br> <tt>HEALTH AND SAFETY<br> <br> You will no doubt be aware of the famous ‘fire triangle’ of fuel, heat and Oxygen - remove any one, and the fire will stop. Tonight seems like an appropriate time to remind everyone of the ‘night shift triangle’: </tt><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitfbagMRCUDF-0WGlx7E_FUlWthZQ8W1u5Ihf5k4AzksVXe8H4QB4jl8KBi9uwHKU4I1_224FZW8E1uqUrO3bmggSy6IeCStN6MZVPolFhgnTkFMxIw-07Av1riW66Kq-KW3HHoJZFD24/s1600/Night29_1-718983.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitfbagMRCUDF-0WGlx7E_FUlWthZQ8W1u5Ihf5k4AzksVXe8H4QB4jl8KBi9uwHKU4I1_224FZW8E1uqUrO3bmggSy6IeCStN6MZVPolFhgnTkFMxIw-07Av1riW66Kq-KW3HHoJZFD24/s320/Night29_1-718983.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5866499778985512418" /></a><tt><br> Caffeine: Coke. Full fat. No exceptions.<br> <br> Reggae: The louder the better. Any Reggae will work, but Shaggy is the night shift artist of preference<br> <br> </tt><tt>Food: Paddy’s night meal should be enough to see you through from midnight to breakfast<br> <br> <br> Take away any of these vital ingredients, and your night shift is doomed to fail. Just see what happened when the night meal was replaced with a reindeer BBQ in South Georgia – morale took a definite dip! <br> <br> </tt><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4X5duerOxonuYZgoDlLXaKPbIr0TXqALYdD8bqVXc6IqycnmAvvaZF8Idgvw3IZeSUj-3Fx3tuVVnOHdf3h3MLhzkRWAWCsxUz0MiZezFB9HthxmKqQaToVgg3dG1ROe8sLn3OhtlY4c/s1600/Night29_2-720276.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4X5duerOxonuYZgoDlLXaKPbIr0TXqALYdD8bqVXc6IqycnmAvvaZF8Idgvw3IZeSUj-3Fx3tuVVnOHdf3h3MLhzkRWAWCsxUz0MiZezFB9HthxmKqQaToVgg3dG1ROe8sLn3OhtlY4c/s320/Night29_2-720276.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5866499785060661106" /></a><br> <tt><br> </tt>Ben (Left): "It says 'Instant Coffee'...why won't it appear...all I see is dry brown stuff. Stevie (right): Reggae...Caffeine...something is missing...<br> <br> TRACER NEWS<br> <br> Still no tracer. End of tracer news.<br> <br> <br> ARTS & CULTURE<br> <br> The Tape Modern is pleased to announce the acquisition of a new masterpiece for it’s international collection: ‘Rhones Alpes’ by Woodward and Mills. The piece will initially be loaned to the Musee du casque, under the stewardship of ‘head’ curator Pierre Lebrouche. A sneak preview of the work in its glamorous new location can be seen below:<br> <br> <br> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBSQe6nIQp6H3ztX01AmV60Zivvg4HC99OsociPT4sUVi7pYL8K7JoASD_HiT0yVirfTTzTZfz5VYpnI5ie_bEJRb2nyGZdgY7yIsvsx9qJcAstwuP7kqbSjvfpNNmvjl9hqCrVMC3PzM/s1600/Night29_3-721885.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBSQe6nIQp6H3ztX01AmV60Zivvg4HC99OsociPT4sUVi7pYL8K7JoASD_HiT0yVirfTTzTZfz5VYpnI5ie_bEJRb2nyGZdgY7yIsvsx9qJcAstwuP7kqbSjvfpNNmvjl9hqCrVMC3PzM/s320/Night29_3-721885.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5866499785893325154" /></a><br> <br> <br> SPORTSDESK<br> <br> Results are in for the much coveted CTD Sports Personality of the Week award. The tracer team have compiled a list of everyone’s night shift sampling contributions. Thanks go to all the men, women and physicists who have assisted. The scores are:<br> <br> 3rd place – James B (21)<br> <br> 2nd place – Brian K (26)<br> <br> And the winner is...Xinfeng Liang (37) <br> <br> Special mention also goes to Alex F, who would no doubt have finished higher up the leaderboard if he wasn’t scared of getting his hands wet.<br> <br> <br> <br> Jan Zikahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06482379177409674651noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1962151185835358599.post-38990223927684007682013-04-13T12:13:00.000-07:002013-04-13T12:19:55.444-07:00Day 28: South Georgia and a day to remember<tt>Hello All<br> <br> On our 28th day we arrived at South Georgia. We had heard about and seen pictures of this mountainous sub-antarctic island, but little could prepare us. We arrived at King Edward Point at dawn to a spectacular sight. As the glow broke through the clouds it lit up towering peaks, cascading glaciers and golden hills. Although it rains 300 days a year down here, this day was sunny and still. An incredible treat.<br> <br> <br> </tt><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUTGsNDkNSWs90PJgxSFHZ75dYODk7NRkIdbmGPtDBjo8sjbHBXfkewV8vzI9Q-02mTIztFWVK84q8MyIEN1rc-IbzpSSCkgH9nNx3EjrJtfoi4DIa9uLjMQw4PLJuQoRWKfv4kNvAbbo/s1600/P4122161-795445.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUTGsNDkNSWs90PJgxSFHZ75dYODk7NRkIdbmGPtDBjo8sjbHBXfkewV8vzI9Q-02mTIztFWVK84q8MyIEN1rc-IbzpSSCkgH9nNx3EjrJtfoi4DIa9uLjMQw4PLJuQoRWKfv4kNvAbbo/s320/P4122161-795445.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5866413346487241698" /></a><br> <tt><br> Photo: Towering South Georgia before sunrise.<br> <br> Stepping off was disorientating. One grows accustomed to constantly correcting the sway of the ship. The shore was lined with young fur seals. Irresistibly cute even if they think they are scary when they growl - although a bite is almost certainly infectious. Most people spent the day out and about, climbing nearby peaks, spotting king penguins and elephant seals and enjoying the glorious sunshine. By all accounts every choice was equally spectacular and I can certainly vouch for the view from Mount Hodges to the interior peaks and out to the crimson blue glacial bays. More reports are likely to come...<br> <br> <br> <br> </tt><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKQ-XmKFmb_X6CDp1iH7SqPRHGHYmznxlume1lnouTz_p4WHjTeDwtrWQL_i6Hgp2HsYhMhxbsoc62VjDTqiLmlIacSayMaIaosiqXqwMu4Qj3jRdKsyiMhiFf3XIv8-PhPRfPb8vYEgE/s1600/IMG_1578-797014.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKQ-XmKFmb_X6CDp1iH7SqPRHGHYmznxlume1lnouTz_p4WHjTeDwtrWQL_i6Hgp2HsYhMhxbsoc62VjDTqiLmlIacSayMaIaosiqXqwMu4Qj3jRdKsyiMhiFf3XIv8-PhPRfPb8vYEgE/s320/IMG_1578-797014.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5866413356103892946" /></a><br> <tt></tt><tt><br> Photo: Gwynn met some king penguins at penguin river...of all places.<br> <br> I</tt><tt>n addition to it's natural beauty, </tt><tt>South Georgia is mostly known for two things: Whaling and Shackleton. Despite being discovered by Captain Cook over 200 years ago (there were no previous inhabitants), South Georgia wasn't settled until the early 1900s when Norwegian Whalers established a station here. Massive steel drums and countless engines that could pull steam trains rust into a dull reds and oranges. These are evidence of the industrial scale whaling had reached by its end here in the 1960s. <br> <br> <br> </tt><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEMYtlhvJaI9u3pRbhc6NdiCWBVSJBKg7NutQzV-UYUvmqUDgcELwv9Y01a7KNORPk96XVJGigtYHg6pm3azcYGmjBL0J9U59Xf0p8unJ4KeUxDnIdz3mIWEDpIksLy7hn6Dydvk2P1QU/s1600/P4122374-799480.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEMYtlhvJaI9u3pRbhc6NdiCWBVSJBKg7NutQzV-UYUvmqUDgcELwv9Y01a7KNORPk96XVJGigtYHg6pm3azcYGmjBL0J9U59Xf0p8unJ4KeUxDnIdz3mIWEDpIksLy7hn6Dydvk2P1QU/s320/P4122374-799480.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5866413364137825266" /></a><br> <br> Photo: Mount Hodges, the old whaling station and some cute-until-they-bite-you seals<br> <tt><br> <br> In 1914, when whaling was in its infancy in South Georgia, Ernest Shackleton set off to Antarctica with the aim of being the first to cross Antarctica. Their wooden ship, Endurance, came up against unexpectedly thick ice (a bit like that which stopped us getting our moorings). Endurance became trapped in the ice. Shackleton's team had to spend the winter on the ship as the ice pushed them slowly northward. By the end of the winter the ice had consumed the ship. They then set out for Elephant Island (the only other land we have spotted since departing) where 22 stayed and Shackleton led 6 others across 800 miles of ocean to South Georgia. Incredibly, they arrived safely, but on the South-Eastern side. The legendary status of the journey was confirmed when the 6 men made perhaps the first crossing of South Georgia over 36 straight hours. Shackleton and all the men involved survived the ordeal and he is now buried in a cemetery here in KEP - his the only gravestone with the head pointing South.<br> <br> <br> </tt><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEim1YqcCY9oLEJNqOzkfiJFT-uQ3RfqGmu9i5caE4w0Y5a_bKz_Phr72QVd-O41HWQeBA35wx9HNGQohMByA5eUkJVNnM7VtpdMfEfuhPJSygHkftwEEfDijxjIt5rHkN7Y1Sy2oqV77D4/s1600/P4122404-701819.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEim1YqcCY9oLEJNqOzkfiJFT-uQ3RfqGmu9i5caE4w0Y5a_bKz_Phr72QVd-O41HWQeBA35wx9HNGQohMByA5eUkJVNnM7VtpdMfEfuhPJSygHkftwEEfDijxjIt5rHkN7Y1Sy2oqV77D4/s320/P4122404-701819.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5866413374172689826" /></a><br> <tt><br> Photo: Pierre scrambles up a scree. The terrain in the background is more like Shackleton's weary team would have tackled. </tt><br> <tt><br> In the evening the 8 British Antarctic Survey staff still on the island invited us, the 2 government officers and an assortment of temporary staff there to help with eradication of introduced species, for a sunset dinner. Rarely do you get to eat something as delicious as reindeer and find you are helping solve an environmental problem...mind you there were plenty of takers.</tt><br> <br> <tt><br> </tt><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhT03-FtoogfuTkWor-n7hvSeh0ZsfNptgFAcCdrgjAR3RH8Yw4avwramwYiHCldzlF36NNmvSrKKA07iG4nHAymq1TrDIpP8cl1aW_IJkNFq95GiTTJddnENGhayGLWdvLOh8O98VHFsM/s1600/P4122523-703724.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhT03-FtoogfuTkWor-n7hvSeh0ZsfNptgFAcCdrgjAR3RH8Yw4avwramwYiHCldzlF36NNmvSrKKA07iG4nHAymq1TrDIpP8cl1aW_IJkNFq95GiTTJddnENGhayGLWdvLOh8O98VHFsM/s320/P4122523-703724.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5866413379745805410" /></a><br> <br> Photo: Not a bad Sunset.<br> <br> Stay tuned for a late night post from the Tracer-Red-Eye-Crew.<br> <br> Jan<br> Jan Zikahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06482379177409674651noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1962151185835358599.post-47105695254559849632013-04-11T16:45:00.000-07:002013-04-11T16:50:28.610-07:00Day 27: CTDs near Neptune's Palace<tt>Hi All<br> <br> The weather has blessed us this week. Cruising North from Antarctic waters, the horizon has been near glassy. Despite being 4 weeks into our journey the surprises and excitement hasn't let up. Pairs of whales have enjoyed krill feasts. Seals, penguins and birds seem to remain as curious about us us we about them. Yesterday we saw an island of ice. A tabular iceberg 6 miles long. That means it would take you about 2 hours to walk it's length...if it where perfectly flat...which it not...and if you could get on top of it...Anyway the berg was so big it formed a line of cloud on the horizon and we saw no end to it. <br> <br> <br> </tt><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlNYIF6XJFZZcFYPA3K4jbAd-TLha9MIYuEDMz8PA-iw4l_YoVg7Z9-KQcW-T9uhBqPPL7sG2TnX7eNYpFdHT7IVAzZNJrCOUMtEhbwQpgHVWLAtRuf9oFVclmKilosC3B20tuJgKj0cU/s1600/P4102099-728611.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlNYIF6XJFZZcFYPA3K4jbAd-TLha9MIYuEDMz8PA-iw4l_YoVg7Z9-KQcW-T9uhBqPPL7sG2TnX7eNYpFdHT7IVAzZNJrCOUMtEhbwQpgHVWLAtRuf9oFVclmKilosC3B20tuJgKj0cU/s320/P4102099-728611.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5865740896233181522" /></a><br> <tt><br> <br> Photo1: The Iceberg extended as far as we could see into the horizon.<br> <br> The VMPs have begun to work again (although we remain on our toes!)</tt><tt> and tonight we do our last CTD before landing in South Georgia early in the morning.</tt><tt> As John gave you complete picture of the CTD sampling process yesterday, I thought I'd talk about what the CTD crew do while its in the water.<br> <br> <br> </tt><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGx4vK5RXsz1MYUAjpXp0mZH0vohcH5oFESsksb2JL24j75po9MF_46qHQ4dFOFAPdcDe-Qi_hVAV-o4XNMTB7ORzEdJO4eV1cbI1_fVEkM5AZZeN_24fG1BeW37OBFBWJN_CtupESygo/s1600/P4112155-730290.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGx4vK5RXsz1MYUAjpXp0mZH0vohcH5oFESsksb2JL24j75po9MF_46qHQ4dFOFAPdcDe-Qi_hVAV-o4XNMTB7ORzEdJO4eV1cbI1_fVEkM5AZZeN_24fG1BeW37OBFBWJN_CtupESygo/s320/P4112155-730290.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5865740904293772802" /></a><br> <tt><br> Photo2: Andrew - one of my fellow nerds - interpreting the Temperature and Salinity data streaming through (on the far right yellow is oxygen, pink is salinity, green is density and red is temperature, the horizontal lines are where we have triggered the bottles to close and trap the blob). <br> <br> <br> The CTD measure temperature, salinity and oxygen. As it descend to the sea floor, often 3-4km down on a very long wire, what it is measuring is displayed in real time on a bunch of screens we have around the place. Although I'd like to pretend it is like NASA headquarters in Houston...it is a bit more like the basement of a nerdy computer hacker. And the nerdyness doesn't stop with the décor. As the temperature and salinity are displayed we can gauge where the water is from. Going down in the water column we see cold water which was put there last winter when the ocean was churned up, below that we see salty water that came from the North Atlantic and below that...anyway we enjoy it. <br> <br> <br> We know roughly at what temperature and salinity the blob of tracer was injected into the ocean at. If it didn't mix up much at all we'd expect it to still be the same temperature and salinity. So the CTD crew are looking keenly for the right numbers to come up. When they do we sample close the plastic bottles at and nearby. It is actually quite remarkable how little the blob is mixing. When the Tracer was in the pacific ocean it mixed vertically at such a slow rate you could have done a better job with a hand blender (Nerds only: my colleague Bill estimates that mixing a typical cubic kilometer of the deep ocean at a rate of 10 cms squared per second-which is what was measured-requires as much energy as a common hand mixer). It seems to be stronger where we are now but it is fascinating just how little it mixes. Brian, who was on the voyage that injected the blob keeps saying: "who would have thought that you could put 75kg of this stuff in the middle of the ocean and still go out and find it again 4 years later".<br> <br> <br> </tt><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMXPnIwkA0qK6daxoT5-fG98ZFa3MneLydw9eM_Nkgi4KL3Xe5avS98cL85lj_-Yec6yVvYhbYpLkP3dkQbqh7EpB-aV3g5_JPOpjUAAQ5YLUx3L17RFNUAG2vzFmgMYswj7mfSdB_gfg/s1600/P4112131-732122.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMXPnIwkA0qK6daxoT5-fG98ZFa3MneLydw9eM_Nkgi4KL3Xe5avS98cL85lj_-Yec6yVvYhbYpLkP3dkQbqh7EpB-aV3g5_JPOpjUAAQ5YLUx3L17RFNUAG2vzFmgMYswj7mfSdB_gfg/s320/P4112131-732122.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5865740915316242754" /></a><br> <tt><br> Photo3: One of our last CTDs before South Georgia with a not-so-Southern-Ocean-like swell.<br> <br> When tonight's CDT came out of the water we where treated to perhaps the most majestical iceberg yet. It most likely melted from below then flipped over. The result, as Gwen suggested, looks like Neptunes Winter Palace.<br> <br> </tt><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOgpkR4zILWY5GhXoFpvRXAEDM2T_-DQeKt3K7QFeCXM5i8JxK7CnTWlYJw5tieh8CtEvqIWBLZ2TctskhA8Tl8RrJQiVwk1LGpcQyBjdwj8gJVpxmSM7qfLHSw7eIv5FHtbrgWVd8XOM/s1600/P4112138-733898.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOgpkR4zILWY5GhXoFpvRXAEDM2T_-DQeKt3K7QFeCXM5i8JxK7CnTWlYJw5tieh8CtEvqIWBLZ2TctskhA8Tl8RrJQiVwk1LGpcQyBjdwj8gJVpxmSM7qfLHSw7eIv5FHtbrgWVd8XOM/s320/P4112138-733898.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5865740919733884178" /></a><br> <tt><br> Photo4: A special one.<br> <br> <br> <br> <br> <br> </tt> Jan Zikahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06482379177409674651noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1962151185835358599.post-12943946389681877592013-04-10T10:36:00.000-07:002013-04-10T10:39:27.087-07:00Day 26: adventures of an amateur in the Southern Ocean<p class="mobile-photo"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-Thaw3BcwVCCYLtdUK1bxNK0InIO42h12jOdTzSS2DaJPtJGKIOYHdd8uE06kaBz2hNzat7b4qGnOieFJkryZDFe1SH9Kp6aIYRdmttjgfHPRDbPagQb0VH6oceihmMsDyBD8KRW13co/s1600/Day26_1-767087.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-Thaw3BcwVCCYLtdUK1bxNK0InIO42h12jOdTzSS2DaJPtJGKIOYHdd8uE06kaBz2hNzat7b4qGnOieFJkryZDFe1SH9Kp6aIYRdmttjgfHPRDbPagQb0VH6oceihmMsDyBD8KRW13co/s320/Day26_1-767087.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5865274201796581762" /></a></p><p class="mobile-photo"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHK96YA_a0p1bvIGmn87XLX6Uu_1GaACQX6XQbIzGtjsn4VdQpNUs3POHBRk2tZBC5mqJ_hsxri6uLvtfEDT74WNfiMp78Eke2Wj7svtMYm20NBRNtRlLLJj40u4WWbYTPcH0FEhUHwNs/s1600/Day26_2-768938.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHK96YA_a0p1bvIGmn87XLX6Uu_1GaACQX6XQbIzGtjsn4VdQpNUs3POHBRk2tZBC5mqJ_hsxri6uLvtfEDT74WNfiMp78Eke2Wj7svtMYm20NBRNtRlLLJj40u4WWbYTPcH0FEhUHwNs/s320/Day26_2-768938.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5865274208667596274" /></a></p><p class="mobile-photo"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaVIXtqkQQYHn66IBg7a4YJDDPOvuYX_Nr0GOe_BuluRw7OyOoR-Zu3QMUY-XjKUiigGu6vQaQWvS_Bcx2_SU-a4CM2tUcbCm9HcuOu2fTh_qiIlKv7KU1D6oKlmz1Le8dOSIjFjuf2vI/s1600/Day26_3-770919.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaVIXtqkQQYHn66IBg7a4YJDDPOvuYX_Nr0GOe_BuluRw7OyOoR-Zu3QMUY-XjKUiigGu6vQaQWvS_Bcx2_SU-a4CM2tUcbCm9HcuOu2fTh_qiIlKv7KU1D6oKlmz1Le8dOSIjFjuf2vI/s320/Day26_3-770919.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5865274218151678450" /></a></p><p class="mobile-photo"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigDZk77jEocxcRDGbXRm8Q4gPwzLk5kSA0P8TZeNqRBogI_Yf7L8SiBUkA-5djdqWhalLYslFwjyZeuhJaw4arqFbluaGYVie4CB-n5-hXsahh2VufC1PjzaL5WPpjPUdHalOISvgQZ8Q/s1600/Day26_4-772483.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigDZk77jEocxcRDGbXRm8Q4gPwzLk5kSA0P8TZeNqRBogI_Yf7L8SiBUkA-5djdqWhalLYslFwjyZeuhJaw4arqFbluaGYVie4CB-n5-hXsahh2VufC1PjzaL5WPpjPUdHalOISvgQZ8Q/s320/Day26_4-772483.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5865274221958476434" /></a></p><p class="mobile-photo"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSKQ-WLB2pjq-EtweBFTJ-rhSt7Z0UcdX4_gFj4ciQnFn8oyk5SbmTDshnRXDaKJ2gZePtNzQ2YJ59OUbJaJz6lstTSM9XzlbwnJI7lXf59fvEETDnPW9h9hJSCW2sj8alOprUdKhZN_0/s1600/Day26_5-775332.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSKQ-WLB2pjq-EtweBFTJ-rhSt7Z0UcdX4_gFj4ciQnFn8oyk5SbmTDshnRXDaKJ2gZePtNzQ2YJ59OUbJaJz6lstTSM9XzlbwnJI7lXf59fvEETDnPW9h9hJSCW2sj8alOprUdKhZN_0/s320/Day26_5-775332.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5865274234075173682" /></a></p>Hi all
<br>
<br>Sorry for the sudden slow down in posts - A combination of impossible
<br>internet and post-polar-bear-apathy. We are cruising up the A25 line and
<br>are getting back into the blogging now with...a twist! Here is a great
<br>post from our on-board doctor, John. He's spent the last year or so in
<br>South Georgia and below he gives us his perspective on this whole
<br>oceanography caper.
<br>
<br>Until tomorrow
<br>
<br>Jan
<br>
<br>Day 26: adventures of an amateur in the Southern Ocean
<br>
<br>Three days have passed since the last blog post and there have been
<br>disturbing reports in the news of high spirits and general unrest. As a
<br>medical man, my diagnosis is of mass hysteria secondary to blog
<br>withdrawal and associated anxiety.
<br>
<br>Fear not. Despite extravagant reports and the usual partisan analysis of
<br>journalists from London, Paris, New York and Pyongyang, there is nothing
<br>to worry about. We're doing fine but have been so busy pushing back the
<br>Frontiers of Science that we simply haven't had time to write. Indeed,
<br>such are the demands of the work that Jan has had to retire to the bar
<br>for a digestif after yet another 5-course dinner and so it falls to me,
<br>the ship's doctor, to leave my customary spot (which Jan has just taken)
<br>and give you an update on our progress.
<br>
<br>When we left you last, we had just finished retrieving and re-deploying
<br>a group of moorings, a noble struggle, as it turned out, between man and
<br>ice, whale and camera. Since then we have returned to what seems to be
<br>the bread-and-butter of oceanography, CTDs. Ah yes! CTDs - I know them
<br>well! Well, as a matter of fact, now I do because whilst they are very
<br>clever bits of kit – collecting water at specified depths in the ocean
<br>and sensing all sorts of things as they go – the final step is to decant
<br>the water out of them into sample bottles for analysis of whatever
<br>happens to float you boat. And this is something that even a doctor can
<br>manage as long as he's moderately sober.
<br>
<br>The process is, as I say, relatively simple but perhaps it is worth
<br>telling you a little bit about it to give an idea of the practical side
<br>of the science work. The CTD is a large round structure, sometimes
<br>called a rosette, on which 24 plastic bottles sit. These have stoppers,
<br>top and bottom, which are held open by wires that latch onto hooks in
<br>the middle of the CTD itself. The whole caboodle is chucked into the
<br>sea, sorry, lowered carefully over the side of the ship on a large,
<br>purpose-built gantry.
<br>
<br>It is then lowered to whatever depth the scientists want to collect
<br>water from. Using a computer programme, they can then trigger the
<br>latches to release the wires holding the stoppers open. These close and
<br>seal the water from that depth in the bottle. Each one of the 24 bottles
<br>can be triggered independently and so water can be collected at
<br>different levels in the water column. Then the whole caboodle is janked
<br>back out of the drink, sorry, carefully recovered back on board the vessel.
<br>
<br>This is where they let monkeys like me help. The CTD comes to rest in
<br>the so-called 'water bottle annex' which, until I knew better, I thought
<br>was where we went for a refreshing libation between vigorous games of
<br>qouits and petanque. It isn't large but can accommodate a CTD and a
<br>smattering of scientists and their simian assistants. It has the virtue
<br>of a roller door – the kind of thing you see on the better class of
<br>boozer – that comes in handy when the weather is rough.
<br>
<br>It also has a radio that plays almost constantly a programme of static
<br>interspersed with the songs you didn't want to hear. This keeps spirits
<br>high as we get about our work. Water from each of the 24 bottles on the
<br>rosette is transferred into sample bottles. This, the dark art of clear
<br>water, is more complicated than it sounds. Great care must be taken to
<br>ensure that there are no bubbles in the water as it flows into the
<br>sample bottles. This is because the tracer that we (okay, they…) are
<br>looking for normally exists as a gas at atmospheric pressure. It yearns
<br>to break free from its watery prison and give it the slightest
<br>opportunity – a friendly air bubble or tubulence at the surface of the
<br>water as it collects in the sample bottle – and it will make a break for
<br>it, never to be seen again. Or at least not to be seen in the sample
<br>water that they analyse.
<br>
<br>This analysis is done by a very clever machine. I was allowed into the
<br>container in which it lives on the back deck. They only made that
<br>mistake once because although I managed to leave it unscathed (neither
<br>of us were hurt), I could not hide my clumsiness for long and even I had
<br>to accept that my curiosity did not justify wasting years of their work.
<br>I did manage to get some pictures of The Thing that goes beep, and all
<br>sorts of other noises, and requires a regular diet of liquid nitrogen.
<br>Feed Me Seymore! The Little Shop of Horrors doesn't even come close.
<br>Yes, as you can see, I haven't the foggiest how it works and will have
<br>to leave that to the experts to explain.
<br>
<br>These scientists are not experts only in the art of blob chasing but are
<br>talented artists as well. In particular the night shift, when not doing
<br>battle with Scientific Frontiers, have taken to decorating our helmets.
<br>Most of us now have the flag of our country of origin emblazonned in
<br>electrical tape upon our nut cases (a technical term, you understand).
<br>That origin may be where we were born or where we feel our spiritual
<br>origin lies. For many years now, I have felt that I am in fact Ugandan
<br>which is the reason that I sport their flag. It has nothing to do with
<br>the fact that it was the most complicated flag design I could think of.
<br>[Any other suggestions are welcome as some helmets remain to be
<br>decorated and, with 3 weeks left to run, they need new challenges to
<br>keep them awake at night. Answers on a postcard, please.]
<br>
<br>Photo 1: A late night CTD comes on deck.
<br>
<br>Photo 2: The static noise generator (perhaps it has something to do with
<br>the dubious looking aerial).
<br>
<br>Photo 3: John with the flag of his spiritual home carefully crafted by
<br>the red-eye tracer team.
<br>
<br>Photo 4: Water for the tracer-machine's insatiable thirst.
<br>
<br>Photo 5: Many hands make light Sulfur-Penta-Flouride!Jan Zikahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06482379177409674651noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1962151185835358599.post-62409105231448418372013-04-09T16:43:00.000-07:002013-04-09T16:44:38.881-07:00Re: Day 22 -The sky scrapers roll by<p class="mobile-photo"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipKIfdmrcrtfah-_DuHgj98F2_fy3fotdPlvC1A43ji6sOWyaVKJbFtBy-_7hEzHQhcUOFkisuDub853PXmI-LvbEQRjkqBIh57Ge5KPfu4Sv7EmQKiTktPWG_qUA4t2DAoAkxzfovlVI/s1600/P4041967-778881.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipKIfdmrcrtfah-_DuHgj98F2_fy3fotdPlvC1A43ji6sOWyaVKJbFtBy-_7hEzHQhcUOFkisuDub853PXmI-LvbEQRjkqBIh57Ge5KPfu4Sv7EmQKiTktPWG_qUA4t2DAoAkxzfovlVI/s320/P4041967-778881.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5864997228026512882" /></a></p><p class="mobile-photo"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnW9t0fGeZdDZbxu7D4dTpEL4JSUa2KkK_1vdWzIrGA8YuW9qT5m0Mg2nrHLUhulw9UuM0iSYe64PVqUQllvQDpnnpNXBqA9pEvinKQmk_WPlV97CMQ8H2IQadR7oopvqhcZzYRac-QSg/s1600/P4041973-780220.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnW9t0fGeZdDZbxu7D4dTpEL4JSUa2KkK_1vdWzIrGA8YuW9qT5m0Mg2nrHLUhulw9UuM0iSYe64PVqUQllvQDpnnpNXBqA9pEvinKQmk_WPlV97CMQ8H2IQadR7oopvqhcZzYRac-QSg/s320/P4041973-780220.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5864997231495498098" /></a></p><p class="mobile-photo"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuxPRIsmhRVsL4NeSVePjatEmPOWx5UhekUHILbZXzs9u73mjzXoZcnCRabBtNdpBGDAwl9lwjvi25Rpw9fkkyWZQszgbkMxQhvYylo4kE0Pm1LLq7h1QQnMtCKnzDq6QGMRXMrmqYk4s/s1600/P4051979-781339.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuxPRIsmhRVsL4NeSVePjatEmPOWx5UhekUHILbZXzs9u73mjzXoZcnCRabBtNdpBGDAwl9lwjvi25Rpw9fkkyWZQszgbkMxQhvYylo4kE0Pm1LLq7h1QQnMtCKnzDq6QGMRXMrmqYk4s/s320/P4051979-781339.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5864997235811385314" /></a></p><p class="mobile-photo"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm2BatTF95Z057tlzSV4-MnQobQXeGrPoaJePN7_shTnkgEHCbh_amiswDdqCMhd2yCAjFrX0oLTbwOUj8xhleoKcIlZKo40fPLf_3sVKc9UBsUoif9VjWUKVn1YnA7SU0POWtbMgPibk/s1600/P4052039-782883.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm2BatTF95Z057tlzSV4-MnQobQXeGrPoaJePN7_shTnkgEHCbh_amiswDdqCMhd2yCAjFrX0oLTbwOUj8xhleoKcIlZKo40fPLf_3sVKc9UBsUoif9VjWUKVn1YnA7SU0POWtbMgPibk/s320/P4052039-782883.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5864997239031867730" /></a></p>Orkney Passage is done and dusted. It is now time to steam east. We are
<br>headed to the southern end of the creatively named 'A23 Section'. Why
<br>are we travelling hundreds of nautical miles in the ocean just to travel
<br>back slowly along a straight line named after a minor road in Southern
<br>England...you ask? We'll once again the oceanographic community is well
<br>organised and virtuous (but perhaps not particularly flamboyant). There
<br>are certain straight lines marked out across the ocean called 'repeat
<br>sections'. These are lines along which the ocean is repeatedly observed.
<br>Sometimes every year, sometimes every few but whenever we can we go back
<br>to the same place. Looking at the data over many voyages we can begin to
<br>understand how the ocean varies, what is turbulent what isn't and, over
<br>many years, whether there are consistent changes occurring. A23 is one
<br>of those sections and runs from the centre of the Weddell Sea to South
<br>Georgia.
<br>
<br>We come across a large row of emigrating ice bergs. At one point Gwen
<br>counts 48 icebergs scattered evenly across our 360 degree horizon. One
<br>particular iceberg named '52' (yet another triumph in oceanographic
<br>naming creativity) is colossal on the horizon. Brian, Sean, JB, Pierre
<br>and I debate its possible size 'a mile long' - 'no! half a mile' - 'as
<br>big as a football stadium'. This being our down time from the continuous
<br>measurement taking, calibration and quantification, that is our daily
<br>toil, we choose not to extend our discussion to any real attempt to
<br>quantify the berg's size. Anyway, George quickly bursts our bubble by
<br>stating in a deep scottish voice 'Ach it's just a wee tablet'.
<br>
<br>That very morning I saw an unidentified object in the water. I know I am
<br>not very trustworthy in this regard...and I am not suggesting it is an
<br>alien, woolly mammoth etc...but I wanted to know if anyone could help
<br>identify it?
<br>
<br>Photo: The wee tablet. Referred to as such because it is broad and flat.
<br>
<br>Photo: Sean, JB and Pierre looking out from the instrument room.
<br>
<br>Photo: This was bobbing up out of the water. What you see is about ½ to
<br>1 m wide. It stayed down soon after I took the photo so it probably
<br>isn't dirty ice. It could be a seal or the head of a small whale...anyone?
<br>
<br>Photo: Our next destination. The two moorings we hoped to collect where
<br>in 99% sea ice covered areas yesterday...so they'll have to wait till
<br>next year.
<br>
<br>Oh and sorry to all those that expected blog posts the last few
<br>days..the internet has been a little slow...and I think that is a fair
<br>excuse considering ;-). Thanks so much to Andrew for taking the reigns
<br>recently too!
<br>
<br>Cheers
<br>
<br>JanJan Zikahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06482379177409674651noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1962151185835358599.post-43297508915432019532013-04-09T16:37:00.001-07:002013-04-09T16:37:13.059-07:00Can I post Blogs via Email..?This is a test message to see if I can post blogs via email.
<br>
<br>If this works blogging will be back on track.
<br>
<br>JanJan Zikahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06482379177409674651noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1962151185835358599.post-83464099270845020382013-04-06T21:35:00.000-07:002013-04-06T21:51:51.986-07:00Day 23: Science in the real world<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Hello again blogwatchers,</span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">As promised, here is part two of the sorry tale of scientific planning’s
contact with the real word.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">In the unlikely event that you could trap them in a social situation and ask, most
scientists will claim that studying the real world is what fascinates them, drives them
to get up in the late morning and inspires them to write dust dry multipage
treatises where the word ‘rigorous’ is used a lot.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In actual fact, the real world is troubling
for most of us scientists.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Unlike the
theory of what we study, the world in which we live is messy, constantly
changing, difficult to observe and sometimes disturbingly sticky. For
geoscientists like oceanographers, there is also a very frustrating lack of
spare planet Earths upon which to run proper control experiments.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">So when groups of scientists gather at conferences in whichever exotic
location has the best skiing/surfing at that time of year, the neat Southern
Ocean experiments that they plan begin to look like less good ideas when, two
years later, those same scientists have to go to the captain and politely ask for
his expensive and recently painted ship to head into thick sea ice.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At night.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>With the barometer plumbing new and exciting depths.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN">That was the latest trial of the terminally optimistic VL Jean-Baptiste who,
having vanquished the fog and winds plaguing the VMP by the traditional French
tactic of waiting until it got bored and went away,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>faced his next task of picking up and
redeploying moorings from the ocean floor.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>This can be somewhat tense work at the best of times as you must first
find the mooring location, send the secret handshake that causes the mooring to
float upwards, locate the bobbing bits in the sea and then try to retrieve them
all without tangling the hundreds of meters of cable in the ship’s propellers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Fortunately, the crew of the JCR are old hands
at this sort of thing, but the sight of the masses of unseasonal sea ice that greeted
us at the mooring location still caused a few subconscious tugs on safety
harnesses.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUwU-tngYKRuCkfBmu-TwcX81Ox8ce4Qn5_YFbqQELuIYeDL415coEoH3Aylm60BZfPGQ36Kd7xldOKRpms7b2NOs8hjyjuF4xv4UBJc-_qjnSIyUeHSXbKSFD-tH0d_3ce2ncHEWh6g0/s1600/chart.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="147" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUwU-tngYKRuCkfBmu-TwcX81Ox8ce4Qn5_YFbqQELuIYeDL415coEoH3Aylm60BZfPGQ36Kd7xldOKRpms7b2NOs8hjyjuF4xv4UBJc-_qjnSIyUeHSXbKSFD-tH0d_3ce2ncHEWh6g0/s200/chart.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiu71Ai0a7l4iQvBt8fpelsOmZRoOYYW_O3ChHY_C6fRAP6RyFtx8eQ4vQxLYd6hRqSHYJSTOD36VZmoFSFTlqijepmznPJ3Kz4j71w1gNAPrqZS2XNN1HTn6Y44IaUb7DB0dGSuReUz7U/s1600/orkney.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="296" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiu71Ai0a7l4iQvBt8fpelsOmZRoOYYW_O3ChHY_C6fRAP6RyFtx8eQ4vQxLYd6hRqSHYJSTOD36VZmoFSFTlqijepmznPJ3Kz4j71w1gNAPrqZS2XNN1HTn6Y44IaUb7DB0dGSuReUz7U/s320/orkney.jpg" width="320" /></a><span lang="EN"> </span></div>
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<span lang="EN">Pictures:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Left, the science
plan, dots are the moorings.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> Above</span>, in practice. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span> The red squiggle ending in the middle of the green circle is the ship track.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN">After a tense night of sailing up and down the line of six moorings,
stretched across about 20 miles of the fun-to-say Orkney Passage, a gap in the
ice big enough for a retrieval was located.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>At first light Paul, Phil and James, masters of the moorings,
immediately leapt into action and sent the release signal.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Right on cue the mooring bounced to the
surface like a puppy left at home alone all day (or over a year in this case)
and was promptly hauled in.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A rapid
turnaround was in order as the ice was thickening and the forecast for the rest
of the week was grim.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The mooring was
quickly downloaded, recharged and put back in, but as the amount of ice free
sea rapidly shrank, a problem became clear.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Normally a mooring, which is actually a string of floats and instruments
up to 2km long with a big weight on the bottom, is deployed top (float) end
first.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The ship then slowly moves
forward paying out the rest of the mooring as it goes, with the weight only
going in last and dragging the rest down with it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This requires a bit of sea room however, and
with the wind rising and house sized chunks of ice grumbling past, leaving two
km of trailing wire and floats behind the ship seemed less wise.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"> Picture:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Leadership in action.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>JB supervising the deployment of a mooring
from the warm control room. </span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Several physicists onboard immediately proclaimed the problem solved, and
therefore uninteresting, and asked why we simply didn’t deploy the weight
first? <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Rather than trailing behind the
ship the mooring would hang down and avoid any glacial tangles.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>With the patience of someone explaining
compound interest to a kitten, the deck engineer politely described how in the
real world things like ‘winch loading, ‘cable tension’ and ‘coating abrasion’
cannot simply be approximated as zero.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>With the prospect of possibly only getting this single mooring done, JB
vented his frustration on the vacationing CTD team and ordered them to their
stations.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Science at all costs, and if
he couldn’t have moorings, he’d have CTDs damn it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Cursing the resilience of our instrument, the
CTD team labored through the night.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Dawn broke and the mood was temporarily lifted by the appearance of a whale
which circled the ship only a few meters off as scientists and crew alike
rushed from side to side waving more cameras than at an Oscar’s reception.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Even grizzled veteran of more than 30 years
at sea, George, who could only be more worthy of the title ‘old sea dog’ with a
peg leg, was following it up and down the side of the ship with glee.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He later denied this, and when asked what
type of whale it was he gruffly declared it ‘twer just a bloudy big black one.
T'with white bits’.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I think the smile gave
it away though. </span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Picture: Definitely big.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And
black.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Don’t argue with George.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Despite the increasing winds the mood of all aboard was lifted further when
Paul and the deck crew declared that they had come up with a solution to the
weight first dilemma. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Intensely
practical engineers and experienced hands, they had arrived at a solution
without a single equation, and therefore it was far more likely to
succeed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The plan was thus: Rather than
dangling the whole of the mooring, instruments, weights and all off the winch,
it would be possible to lower the weight into the water first.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That could be lashed to the deck fixings so
the winch wasn’t taking the weight, then one by one the instruments could be
deployed, repeating the lashing to free up the winch, and finally once all was
in, let loose.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">In practice this produced a nightmarish criss-crossing of ropes and cables
on the rear deck, a veritable cat’s cradle of lashings, knots, pulleys and
turns around bollards.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It seemed one
wrong tug on a rope would cause the whole lot to spontaneously deconstruct and
drag everyone on the deck into the deep, and probably the ship with it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But, like a midget at a urinal, the moorings
team and deck crew were on their toes, and had the whole situation under
control. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Five days of near round the clock
work on the deck and in the lab, and the last mooring was redeployed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The manly men of the aft deck, closely bonded
now after working every grease stained day in freezing temperatures and high
winds, celebrated with one, two, three pats on each other’s backs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This outpouring of emotion was declared ‘very
sweet’ by Gwen, who was watching the show unfold from the warmth of the
instrument room.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Picture:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> A </span>mooring weight being deployed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Somewhere a train is up
on bricks.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">So, science achieved, despite the real world’s best efforts, the JCR
steamed on towards our next goal, the A23 line of CTDs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Stay tuned dear reader.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
Andrewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13259223718488629018noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1962151185835358599.post-55559072608313914602013-04-04T14:23:00.001-07:002013-04-04T14:36:57.015-07:00Day 21: Jan takes a breakHi all,<br />
<br />
Jan is taking a well earned break from his heroic efforts to chronicle the trials and tribulations of the cast of villains and heroes aboard the James Clark Ross, and it has fallen to me to keep his keen readers up to date for the next couple of days. Jan has done a great job so far of telling you of our ongoing adventures, the wonderful people on board and their important, considered and well executed work. I'm here to tell you the truth of what goes on out here.<br />
<br />
So, for those who came in late: This is the ongoing voyage of the RSS James Clark Ross, boldly sampling for tracer where none have sampled before. This intrepid expedition has the romantic name of JR281, the 281st science cruise by this ship, and the number of our planned six week, box-shaped circuit around the South Atlantic. The plan, as far as you can plan anything around a dither (the proper plurality) of scientists and the wild Southern Ocean, was to head due South from the Falklands, across the Drake Passage that separates South America from Antarctica, sampling as we go. The Southern end of this was the foreboding Elephant Island, where Shackleton (spiritual forefather of the British Antarctic Survey) left most of his crew stranded while he sloped off on a brisk sailing jaunt. The plan then was to head east to near the South Orkney Islands and pick up two groups of moorings that have been sampling away at the bottom of the ocean near there. We would download their data, clean the seaweed off, thank them for their service and push them overboard again. That brings us nicely to our present position, steaming due east to the southern end of our next section of CTD and tracer observations. That section, with inspired name 'A23' will take us northish to South Georgia Island, where we will hopefully have some shore leave to fraternise with the natives for a day. We will then head back west to the Falklands along the ridges and gaps of the North Scotia Ridge, sampling as we go.<br />
<br />
This plan, mapped out literally to the second by our determined but possibly over optimistic leader J-B Sallee, unfortunately didn't survive contact with the Southern Ocean terribly well. I'll explain over the next couple of posts. Let me start with the VMPs...
One of the key features of the first section was to be the use of VMPs to map the incredibly complicated small scale turbulence of the water column. This is important for learning about mixing in the ocean and how stuff gets from one side of the Antarctic Circumpolar Current to the other when simpler approaches to the physics says that it shouldn't really be able to. The sexily named vertical microstructure profiler is the tool of choice for this research. These instruments are a relative debutant on the oceanographic scene, with a certain je ne sais quoi at the moment, and are doing their best to be seen in all the most popular journals. Part of their allure must surely be the fact that these are a gamblers instrument, they are untethered and fall through the ocean free of any control from those on the ship. Their operators are consequently men and women of mystery, cool characters with unwavering hands and thousand yard stares. Lesser oceanographers shackle their instruments, first with steel, then cable ties and finally with reams of duct tape. VMP operators on the other hand let their babies fly free, confident in their knowledge that the VMP really does love them, and no matter how far it strays into the dark places of the ocean, it will always come crawling back in the end.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiTivxWAtYYmiLPpyf7w2kHfxAPDUsE72BSqAgk3gHPnNyflCVdxPaFYKk4iFvpLvlQts304NuXot0Z84YKL1QW4Fafc3ZogUYr_9lGHZVDMOKY7oLQSGnMPWhz99EQ4HUr0Jk780IGdA/s1600/DSC_7064.jpg" imageanchor="1"> </a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjr8yv8pQ0rjnvOXdlIo5s-HxX0Jj9ImpNw-wZSWYIlUUwg6Xa2hH16L4EnoAMV3zH0kWVm5rDxMMlTZCkY8AOoHFaoIdhZMXb474WZiFcjhMTXdBGnbDr-KJXSgrym1RpjQBbUxgCrtXQ/s1600/DSC_7403.jpg" imageanchor="1"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdxCnBK1v1wbUT-S1lOpqDJhQB9Ix9sVuwmmnfhootLfaes5ehlU-5pV6oh1ePqcd1EYxX5GRzCNd0612fcen48dvmHbQ3wdhaM3FI3HccDr3NX1yrwNXM0hF2MHywdT09S1YrtTiK3dU/s1600/DSC_6788.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdxCnBK1v1wbUT-S1lOpqDJhQB9Ix9sVuwmmnfhootLfaes5ehlU-5pV6oh1ePqcd1EYxX5GRzCNd0612fcen48dvmHbQ3wdhaM3FI3HccDr3NX1yrwNXM0hF2MHywdT09S1YrtTiK3dU/s320/DSC_6788.jpg" /></a> </div>
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Picture: Gwyn (blue helmet on left) demonstrates good technique by ensuring the VMP dangles over someone other than him while it is lifted over the side. </div>
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That's the theory at least. In practice the operators know that anything you give to the ocean, it rarely gives back. So, much time was spent along the start of the section testing the VMPs in baby steps, progressively getting deeper and deeper. Each test was followed by some fine tuning, adding buoyancy here, pleading promises of nicer paint jobs and fresh battery packs there. So when Sean, John, Alex and Gwyn, our resident VMP jockeys, finally slipped on their dark glasses, donned their VMP issue leather jackets and declared the instruments ready for full depth action, we were unfortunately already a fair way along the section. Still, several casts were performed and every time the VMPs popped back up as planned. Profiles were made, data collected, and principle investigators back in the UK and US began idly daydreaming of what they would wear to their Nobel Prize ceremonies. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE6wyGLsxb07ufqxHTiKtVEjCiDpHBdqNyq4HdbHj5ZATu1W4OoTgvUuFHNL0ONPOeZiVJsG7-8WtLk8YOUBXOZ7Mr7OaKNjSHnKiAuQiOzfOt5OdLxGb6_t0ZsBRJhnMXrtZNdeLsT74/s1600/DSC_7064.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE6wyGLsxb07ufqxHTiKtVEjCiDpHBdqNyq4HdbHj5ZATu1W4OoTgvUuFHNL0ONPOeZiVJsG7-8WtLk8YOUBXOZ7Mr7OaKNjSHnKiAuQiOzfOt5OdLxGb6_t0ZsBRJhnMXrtZNdeLsT74/s320/DSC_7064.jpg" /></a> </div>
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Picture: Sean retrieves the US VMP by poking it with a stick.<br />
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Then the weather came. First thick fog shrouded the ship. This makes spotting the VMPs when they return to the surface, possibly several km away, very difficult. Worse, it hides their flashing beacons at night and makes it doubly hard to find them. Cracks of doubt began appearing in the craggy visages of these hard men of the sea as they had visions of the ship passing blindly by their ten million penny babies like...like a ship in the night. Worse was to come. High winds whipped up the seas, meaning that a surfaced instrument may be whizzed away before we ever saw it, and even if found retrieving them became downright dangerous.<br />
<br />
At this point Sean's US Marine Core training kicked in and he decided that the risk of leaving a man (or VMP) behind was too great. The UK owned VMP was staying put too. Pleas, threats and offers to use the more expendable PhD students in retrieval operations fell on deaf ears, and at this point all voyage leader Jean-Baptiste could do was fume at the fog and declare that it was 'So annoying'. In the hope of making it go away, JB was forced to gallically insult it again. 'So annoying'. This constitutes a great outburst of emotion for the normally unflappable Frenchman. I'd like to say that at this point a beam of light shone down on him as the clouds parted and the wind fell silent. It was not to be though, and like the carefully spelled King Cnut before him, JB had to concede that the ocean was beyond his command.<br />
<br />
The weather did eventually clear up near the southern end of the section and the VMPs went back in, but unfortunately there are big gaps in the data. That's science in the Southern Ocean for you though, and we are consoling ourselves with the fact that we still have both the instruments, and there are two more potentially exciting sections to be sampled with the VMPs.<br />
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Picture: VMP energy dissipation rate data from the first section.
Andrewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13259223718488629018noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1962151185835358599.post-29306419121824386072013-04-03T17:43:00.001-07:002013-04-03T17:43:35.161-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Day 20 - A bus trip to the bottom of the ocean with Genghis and Cesar. <br />
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<br />
The wind howled last night. As the second last mooring was dropped back into the water the wind picked
up to 50 knots. The snow and ice whizzed past as did the sea ice - large slabs colliding
with the ship from time to time. The forecast said we’d be bunkered down for
the next 3 days. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span>If you think
forecasts in Southern England or Tasmania are poor....try the tip of
Antarctica. It worked out in our favour today as we were able to finish of the
last of our work here and are now preparing to head east - out of the ice.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwZYoZn2QcFPBdFxe1pqibDMptxF9Je0WY_1GXBVo0A6bqj7RNm29sSocQEOpgGMMIlDkvi8h8OdmNKik8ptPCQLQwJ986NOwFdZ229o5XWLw9mrAMob5QVpLz0DxpdgfYEFEgHvZWKpA/s1600/P3301866.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwZYoZn2QcFPBdFxe1pqibDMptxF9Je0WY_1GXBVo0A6bqj7RNm29sSocQEOpgGMMIlDkvi8h8OdmNKik8ptPCQLQwJ986NOwFdZ229o5XWLw9mrAMob5QVpLz0DxpdgfYEFEgHvZWKpA/s320/P3301866.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
Photo: It will be sad to leave the ice-scape tonight.<br />
<br />
During the last week we have been recovering and deploying moorings which
are measuring the flow of Bottom Water off the coast of Antarctica. The tracer
team have also been measuring the amount of CFCs in the water. Sorry to lay on
yet another three letter acronym (TLA) on you. You may have heard about Chlorofluorocarbons
and how they have been causing the whole in the ozone layer to get bigger. Liking
to put a positive spin on the situation, us oceanographers <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span>have found a great use for them: they tell us how ‘old’
the water is.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLToLoK6ZRQuD1ZUlADgXBRnRBh9aH8tlpjEqS7uMsvL9YGbv0a-mlvGXpuuqzkKfL0A5oBIjgHANRfK4neFW2TKGjcJ7Hn4zr9N7iPe4MG5swYVCjyMLmzOnMkqmkG_M5Q563V9v29cg/s1600/P4031943.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="241" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLToLoK6ZRQuD1ZUlADgXBRnRBh9aH8tlpjEqS7uMsvL9YGbv0a-mlvGXpuuqzkKfL0A5oBIjgHANRfK4neFW2TKGjcJ7Hn4zr9N7iPe4MG5swYVCjyMLmzOnMkqmkG_M5Q563V9v29cg/s320/P4031943.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
Photo: Fat seals...because they are cute. <br />
<br />
I spoke to Andy Watson from the University of East Anglia, the trace gas expert, about htis today.
Any given layer of water is made up of a mixture
of water from different places and times. Different kinds of CFCs have been in the air at differnt times, so if we know how much of each is in different layers of the ocean we can tell how old the water is...on average.<br />
<br />
Knowing the average age of the water at a given level in the ocean is a bit like knowing the average age of all the people on a bus. If
the bus is heading to kindergarten there will be mostly young kids and maybe
the bus driver and/or someones mother who will bring up the age a little. An
outing from an old-persons home will of course be the other way around. We only
know the average age of the water at each level in the ocean and use this along
with the other measurements we take to figure out where they’ve come from and
where they are going:<br />
<br />
Surface Ocean (0-200m deep): Bus from the maternity ward at the local
hospital (babies with a few young mothers and nurses)<br />
Upper Ocean (200 -1000m deep): Young professionals on their way to work, sharing
the bus stop with retirees on their way back from the shops.<br />
Middle Ocean: (1000m-3000m deep) Genghis Kahn shares the bus with Oliver Cromwell,
Julius Cesar and friends.<br />
Deep Ocean: (3000m – 6000m) Early humans and the odd dinosaur take the slow
bus to Bognor Regis with the odd bus load of teenagers flying through for a
Stag Night in Brighton.<br />
<br />
The bus load of teenagers is the newly created Antarctic Bottom Water - sinking
rapidly into the deep ocean.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuGR9mAlGq6tdjajPbQnXGkop4i2QyOjy5UVHNWIaMFqicGU4XwIusP7C88MRxHHKWTn5syen1AdpGQbNETnPrxCgLHlHxTATg1Mpetc9ErCe1QiKGh1UStzLIEGOg8SlU68_w6YPsg74/s1600/P4031953.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuGR9mAlGq6tdjajPbQnXGkop4i2QyOjy5UVHNWIaMFqicGU4XwIusP7C88MRxHHKWTn5syen1AdpGQbNETnPrxCgLHlHxTATg1Mpetc9ErCe1QiKGh1UStzLIEGOg8SlU68_w6YPsg74/s320/P4031953.JPG" width="239" /></a></div>
<br />
Photo: Colourful plots of the data from the different CFCs indicating the average age of the water. Red means toddler, blue means middle aged and pink means Julius Cesar. The blue bit at the bottom is the relatively young Antarcitc Bottom Water flowing out through Orkney Passage.<br />
<br /></div>
Jan Zikahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06482379177409674651noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1962151185835358599.post-58365603771398537512013-04-02T16:33:00.000-07:002013-04-02T16:33:30.592-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Day 19 Greasy Ice Pancakes Anyone?<br />
<br />
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<![endif]--><span lang="EN-US"> Those who were fooled by the post and felt embarrassed,
rest assured you provided a lot of entertainment and some much needed
connection with the outside world for a lot of us! We have to credit Andrew for
his Photo-Shop abilities - there is surely a Job for him with Vogue when he
wants it - and to JB for his news-website abilities<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>- Don’t believe everything you read in the
papers!</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">Despite temperatures well below -10C,
strong winds and snow, Paul and Phil and the crew press on with their mooring
recovery. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span>During the day the rest of us try to look busy
with data processingn and instrument callibration while taking opportunities to spot seals, birds, icebergs and the unrelenting majesty
of the environment around us.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyQNNVdqkHrPsUK6Tp_Y9Kw5uei37ITzKtcT2kEW48ylOb0kF9exi1mSUor_QrWI3FdrVZpPWKPFIlO2QfUarGLGsaIf7hIJtKO_9RNah0xtpnEBdGgpfuLeE7MHRDboGtwGhI0lEX6qk/s1600/P3311904.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyQNNVdqkHrPsUK6Tp_Y9Kw5uei37ITzKtcT2kEW48ylOb0kF9exi1mSUor_QrWI3FdrVZpPWKPFIlO2QfUarGLGsaIf7hIJtKO_9RNah0xtpnEBdGgpfuLeE7MHRDboGtwGhI0lEX6qk/s320/P3311904.JPG" width="239" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1VzId1vnyj7nP255WpjY9MO9AbgzRAzWu_I0pKrDryvTbeFcS_iP_UX2Rk_uzIs05jKxYGlUJGJm6L2dpNbG6OUTdb1Ptpy51_Wh124k3m_1WCcJnJ931OXyfO0ESQ3IzZ6avB76S9cY/s1600/P3291813.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"> Photo: Paul and the crew recovering a mooring during a fleeting break in the weather.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLgKcnJbEfbcX-QZDW_WV_Xpcgygbzyt-qsN37vRmcJxiyzS2QooHrYYbTO2hhQ10rmOVpg7OQEX9YkJFLZ77fBuW2zNHszVzk_4SA7bkH5Aea9BXAzhIa2pLhsh2Z8ks1L9UJkayYbUc/s1600/P3301861.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLgKcnJbEfbcX-QZDW_WV_Xpcgygbzyt-qsN37vRmcJxiyzS2QooHrYYbTO2hhQ10rmOVpg7OQEX9YkJFLZ77fBuW2zNHszVzk_4SA7bkH5Aea9BXAzhIa2pLhsh2Z8ks1L9UJkayYbUc/s320/P3301861.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"> Photo: Cape Petrels </span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">It has been so cold we have been able to Sea-Ice
form around us. Because the ocean is salty, it doesn’t freeze until the air
temperature gets down to around -2C. As this threshold is met, the surface of
the ocean begins to look greasy like butter on a fry pan. As ocean waves approach
the ‘grease-ice’ they continue but slow down as if they have hit a layer of
treacle of honey. As the cooling continues, small round sections of solid ice
form which curl up at the edges like pancakes. First there are little pikelettes
within the grease, then crepes and then huge hot cakes. The pancakes raft together
with any chunks of weirdly shaped ice left over from previous years. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">The ice we see is mostly fresh water. This
means that as the sea freezes it leaves a heap of salt behind. This salt forms
extra-extra-extra-salty water. If the water is extra salty and extra cold it
doesn’t freeze. Rather it sinks. It is a bit like when you poor cold milk into
your tea, if you poor it in slowly it will all sink to the bottom. The
cold-salty water formed here sinks into the deep ocean (google 'brinacle BBC Frozen Planet' or try to get a copy of BBCs frozen planet to see fantastic time lapse images of salty sinking plumes under sea-ice). </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">The water that sinks around these parts is called Antarctic
Bottom Water. This is precisely what the moorings are trying
to measure. Just like the milk in your cup of tea, the ultimate fate of the
bottom water depends on how much mixing goes on as it sinks and spreads out. Which,
after all, is what this voyage is about. </span></div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRa6iUFfXNJjhWbeYCxbRJJ4fuIt_I3qOEc4Y_9cBgf6UjpDdyGdxHCQuy9Rb_L0r-0tM4b8PQWTuY_wiQDDDEFPl0Hyk677iL-UYR-wBGu8tMw-uBnCCdQfPcTNeU5TdlQPMPdergZOk/s1600/P4011918.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRa6iUFfXNJjhWbeYCxbRJJ4fuIt_I3qOEc4Y_9cBgf6UjpDdyGdxHCQuy9Rb_L0r-0tM4b8PQWTuY_wiQDDDEFPl0Hyk677iL-UYR-wBGu8tMw-uBnCCdQfPcTNeU5TdlQPMPdergZOk/s320/P4011918.JPG" width="239" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLoG-I9eWB18OZVknnS03F1PBGy-L-pR3uxXt5w67LEwfu5wTA3qAQ4PHvClvLW0v3XVGwpwDP8X23xWLyA00BxhBNeiwrW0B8jJaJJNqUn1l7sz1Cn9XmPsE5DQmy2JgI8F0IAt1ehAs/s1600/P4011932.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLoG-I9eWB18OZVknnS03F1PBGy-L-pR3uxXt5w67LEwfu5wTA3qAQ4PHvClvLW0v3XVGwpwDP8X23xWLyA00BxhBNeiwrW0B8jJaJJNqUn1l7sz1Cn9XmPsE5DQmy2JgI8F0IAt1ehAs/s320/P4011932.JPG" width="239" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2umMm33oNBZsQGeR4O_MIseLLPhWXsjZw5A4LkTFqRKM8XL2ehhvzq95SKZbFtvWg6UAYW6-1_HhyphenhyphenhihR1_CbuFFq4K5tFJgkYExjmFkQ4p4vLAqwKNTDv-r_i3aSE6ZF34w2wJnguTA/s1600/P3301895.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2umMm33oNBZsQGeR4O_MIseLLPhWXsjZw5A4LkTFqRKM8XL2ehhvzq95SKZbFtvWg6UAYW6-1_HhyphenhyphenhihR1_CbuFFq4K5tFJgkYExjmFkQ4p4vLAqwKNTDv-r_i3aSE6ZF34w2wJnguTA/s320/P3301895.JPG" width="239" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
Photos: From grease-ice to small pancakes to large pancakes.<br />
<div dir="rtl" style="text-align: right;">
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</div>
Jan Zikahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06482379177409674651noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1962151185835358599.post-81840404512897852082013-04-01T09:51:00.002-07:002013-04-01T09:51:55.013-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
There has been another polar bear sighting!<br />
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<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
At 11:59am (ship time) this morning the following photo was taken of the polar bear and explains how it got to the Antarctic:<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdR8HWh8GQKXMA0dejUF0u3wmopW0tvwszF4VSriaKTuVlukVaHOIhJyzBGzf9G_y6Tmrls0v13NDMY17Qou-VhlsDBS-cClQ-G1BaNH1KSiz83va9OkkMLGEZ44xjBy_3SaTpaY7LMSc/s1600/bear_UFO_small.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdR8HWh8GQKXMA0dejUF0u3wmopW0tvwszF4VSriaKTuVlukVaHOIhJyzBGzf9G_y6Tmrls0v13NDMY17Qou-VhlsDBS-cClQ-G1BaNH1KSiz83va9OkkMLGEZ44xjBy_3SaTpaY7LMSc/s400/bear_UFO_small.jpg" width="311" /></a></div>
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Happy 1st of April from everyone on the James Clark Ross!<br />
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The (slightly) more serious blog posts will continue shortly.<br />
<br />
Jan </div>
Jan Zikahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06482379177409674651noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1962151185835358599.post-90631850893239033382013-03-31T17:55:00.000-07:002013-03-31T18:06:04.363-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Calibri;">Here is the link to the Guardian front page where they are running the article on the polar bear. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="ftp://ftp.nerc-bas.ac.uk/jbsall/Guardian/LatestNewsGuardianNowLatestBreakingNewsOfTodayLatestnews20sport20and20comment20from20the20Guardian202020The20Guardian.html"><span style="color: black; font-family: Calibri;">www.guardian.co.uk</span></a></span></div>
Jan Zikahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06482379177409674651noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1962151185835358599.post-69415500329545403932013-03-31T16:43:00.001-07:002013-03-31T16:57:50.200-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
Polar Bear Sighted!<br />
<br />
We have some serious and incredible news. A Polar Bear has been sighted near the ship.<br />
<br />
If you are reading this blog for the first time, this is from the scientists aboard British Antarctic Survey Voyage the JR281 on the James Clark Ross. We have spotted a Polar Bear near the coast of the South Orkney Islands in the South Atlantic. As far as we know this is the first recorded sighting of a polar bear in Antarctic waters.<br />
<br />
This afternoon, after completing a large number of Mooring recoveries and CTD casts, almost all the crew and scientists were inside the ship. It was -15 C outside and just beginning to snow. Phil Mele from Lamont-Doherty in New York was the only one outside. He was preparing a sounder to find the location of our next mooring retrieval. He spotted the polar bear on a nearby raft of ice. He began yelling out. Thankfully Gwyn Evans was nearby on an upper deck and heard Phil. Gwyn quickly took this photo:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7Q8NfG11QDirEpxBwKsXqs-AKQQYnqH6s4rsGcQqIO7bMkwAuAazQTOzrEs6-7YZVRsy3Q1XMd4g2VnxkqMYwN5ZCit25oGXlOUbFiPqvgHGNNzcBMCtsFJ8zepLmhnE4cgn63CTgSWI/s1600/philandpolarbearsmall.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="260" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7Q8NfG11QDirEpxBwKsXqs-AKQQYnqH6s4rsGcQqIO7bMkwAuAazQTOzrEs6-7YZVRsy3Q1XMd4g2VnxkqMYwN5ZCit25oGXlOUbFiPqvgHGNNzcBMCtsFJ8zepLmhnE4cgn63CTgSWI/s320/philandpolarbearsmall.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span id="goog_1197766599">Gwyn then ran down to the lower deck and managed to take this photo</span> before the bear ran away and swam to a larger ice flow in the distance. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxv7ICQc30473gbQJ1wEIwO1qRbtFM7xVr4uokXnsNrLYkS2G_pU_3vSDfbmyxtFJMgbIlROn8Ns9tlyVjUavLBbBr99jcLjQdsA4vpdt5ss9zbvT8gv-r43fsLvdsQ-dtA7FzD3qijlg/s1600/polarbearfrontsmall.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxv7ICQc30473gbQJ1wEIwO1qRbtFM7xVr4uokXnsNrLYkS2G_pU_3vSDfbmyxtFJMgbIlROn8Ns9tlyVjUavLBbBr99jcLjQdsA4vpdt5ss9zbvT8gv-r43fsLvdsQ-dtA7FzD3qijlg/s320/polarbearfrontsmall.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
Gwyn and Phil quickly contacted the bridge. I heard Phil's calls from the main lab and saw the bear from the window but couldn't get a clearer picture by the time I got my camera. The captain has steered the ship toward the direction the bear headed and we have suspended other work to try and find it. It became dark very soon after we saw it and there is very little moonlight so far tonight.<br />
<br />
The internet is very slow and we are trying to contact all the relevant authorities. Polar Bears are only thought to be found in the Arctic. We are not sure whether the bears are here due to a freak of nature or some sort of bizarre accident/experiment. Jean-Baptiste Sallee, Andy Watson and the Captain have called the British Antarctic Survey head office and they are contacting CCAMLR (Commission for the Conservation of Antarctic Marine Living Resources), other government and nongovernment organisations and the media. There are no polar bear experts on board but from the photos the bear appears healthy. BAS has also contacted media outlets and JB has been interviewed by the Guardian. <br />
<br />
More news to come.<br />
<br />
Jan</div>
Jan Zikahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06482379177409674651noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1962151185835358599.post-67462525595377736562013-03-30T19:13:00.000-07:002013-03-30T19:13:12.997-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Day 16 - Orkney Passage and the Path of the Humpback<br />
<br />
Yesterday was momentous. <br />
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<br />
The sun rose over a vast landscape of shimmering
blue water with a cool icy crust. The horizon glowed red then orange and
then chromatic yellows and blues. Massive icebergs, a saw-tooth of sky scrapers
on the horizon. We were floating on central park and Manhattan is stretched
around us.<br />
<br />
Leopard seals are spotted, lazing and groaning, drifting along on distant
frozen platforms. Rafts of penguins float by congregating on concaved ice
blocks, swimming with heads poked up and bodies jumping and diving from the
water. Piercing the water, before one such congregation, a fin is spotted and a
spray of water in the air.<br />
<br />
The word is passed around and we flock, like the very penguins we gawk at,
to the edges of the ship. As if satisfying a whale sized thirst for attention,
this giant of the sea, this giant of the earth, gives us a remarkable display
(and one we are happy to receive). Scientists and permanent crew alike are
buzzing. Andy Watson and I stand at the corner of the ship as the whale passes
just meters from us. We are like children - star struck and speechless. Even
George, veteran of 30 years on the ship is following the majesty of this
creature back and forward. At one moment Gwyn and I search frantically. From nowhere
the whale pops its head from the water, as if to say: “peek-a-boo!”. As Simon,
the deck engineer, says afterwards: “If that doesn’t get your heart racing, you’re
in the wrong job”.<br />
<br />
Circle after circle are made of the ship, with the odd pirouette and spin
under the water before a final salute and flash of its tail fin.<br />
<br />
The excitement is hard to come down from. Work must go on. We are here for a
reason. A closing of the skies, a solid southerly breeze and the beginnings of
a snow storm remind us where we really are. <br />
We are now sitting over Orkney Passage, one of the key gateways between
the Sub-Polar Weddell Region and the Atlantic - A pathway between true
Antarctic waters and the rest of the ocean. The ice is open enough for us to
recover some moorings, but not without a fight. Tomorrow I will tell you what
they are there for.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Although the story
will not have the majestic draw of a creature like a Humpback Whale, the enormity,
mystery and antiquity of the Antarctic Bottom Water is quite a tale. (And yes
there will be more pretty pictures tomorrow ;-)<br />
<br />
Thanks for all your comments and support! Making this Blog has been really
fun and I am glad it is being enjoyed. Soon we will have more profiles and some
guest posts.Here is a wonderful portrait of Gwyn talking to the Whale by JB's talanted, 3 year old, neice: <br />
<br />
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<br />
Illustration by Thaïs: From left it reads "The man who talks with the whale - The whale - Who are you? Are you a huge red whale? (burst out laughing)".<br />
<br /></div>
Jan Zikahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06482379177409674651noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1962151185835358599.post-74794710312742789932013-03-29T18:06:00.000-07:002013-03-29T18:06:15.093-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Day 15 - Speachless...<br />
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Jan Zikahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06482379177409674651noreply@blogger.com3