Week 1 — 16–22 December 2007Journal by Sophie Mouge, CAML's education and outreach officer onboard RSV Aurora Australis.
16 December 2007We are supposed to embark at 8:00 am. We decided to meet at 7:00 am in front of the hotel. We are very impatient to board the Aurora Australis and to begin the adventure at last!
As soon as we arrive, Martin Riddle (Voyage Leader) and Sarah Robinson (Deputy Voyage Leader) give us practical information about how the voyage will unfold. The captain, Ian Moodie, follows up by bidding us welcome on board his icebreaker and reminding us of the basic safety instructions.
The ship’s doctor speaks next. In a kind gesture, he wrote the title of his presentation in French: ‘le mal de mer.’ His sense of humor puts us at ease right away. Our group, concentrating intently, listens to his recommendations. To conquer seasickness, three solutions are available to us: pills, suppositories or patches to put behind the ear.
The ship’s doctor also reminds us of the dangers of cold and UV rays. As he explains to us, ‘Prevention is better than cure!’ Several among us are already starting their preventative treatments.
10:00 am: We assemble on the deck to practice evacuation exercises that turn out to be very useful: several people put their lifejacket on backward, others get the meeting place wrong... In the end, everyone understands and now knows the difference between ‘port’ (left) and ‘starboard’ (right).
11:00am: We try on the survival suits and uncover the lifeboats in 25°C weather under a big, blue sky. It does not seem much like Christmas season in Europe!
The morning ends with a full tour of the ship, from the hold to the bridge. Guided by the crew, we go through the engine room, the game room, the laundry room, the galley (kitchen) and, to our surprise, the sauna! We are certain to find out more about these different quarters in the weeks to come.
After lunch, the Australian customs officials come on board to check exit visas for the territory. Our voyage in Antarctica means we will be leaving Australian territorial waters.
Signs of bad weather mean we have to quickly stow our gear in the laboratories and our baggage in the cabins to avoid anything being broken.
By luck, the departure is postponed three hours (to replace a faulty piece of scientific equipment), which allows us to figure out how to organise the ship’s space more calmly. Around 6:00 pm, the ship is evacuated so the number of people on board can be verified. Each person climbs on board in turn.
At 7:00 pm, we are ready! The ship’s horn reverberates and the mooring lines are cast off.
It is not without some emotion that those who came to accompany people close to them wave their hands toward the ship. Some of them also make final phone calls before the ship leaves the coverage zone. Michael Stoddart, director of CAML and Graham Hosie (in charge of the CEAMARC program) are also present to greet us and wish us a good trip.
A few minutes from departure, everything seemed to be going well and Sarah had the final word for the day: ‘Touch wood!’ 17 December 2007Weird deep noises sometimes invade our surroundings on board. We look at each other questioningly, asking ourselves what could be happening. But we quickly figure out that we can’t tell because of our unfamiliarity with the ship! Only the crew can know.
In the cabins, the ship is relatively quiet, so much so that we all wake up announcing that we’ve had a very good first night. Two of us even needed to sleep later than the breakfast hour (from 7h30 to 8h30) to catch up on accumulated lost sleep.
We’re all free of seasickness for the time being, thanks to the preventives. Samuel feels a little bit queasy but overall everyone is bearing up well! To tell the truth, the sea is very calm for the moment. Nevertheless the captain warns us that it can rouse itself at any time! And that the ship is moving along slowly (2 knots, or about 3.6 km/h) because the scientific maneuvers have already started. No time lost, for sure! Instruments are sent underwater to take oceanographic measurements. Some are destined to stay submerged for weeks, others will be brought back up to the surface. An Acoustic Doppler Current Profiler (ADCP) is attached underneath the ship; it registers the ocean currents as deep down as 700 m. A control room equipped with computers allows the readings to be verified in real time.
The cabins we are occupying are comfortable, especially those for the women like Catherine and S. who are lucky enough to be living in them alone. This first day is an opportunity to finish arranging our personal things so we feel best and to tie down our equipment in case the ship should move abruptly.
After lunch, the entire team assembles in the ship’s corner salon to share a coffee á la française as our English-speaking colleagues call it! Among all the people on the expedition, we note that we are the only ones to stay at the dinner table so long. No comment!
Next each of us wanders away to our tasks. Catherine invites Bertrand to her cabin to view a video sequence filmed by a Remote Operating Vehicle (ROV) on an earlier mission in Terre Adélie.
They exchange comments and points of view on the interpretations of their observations. Catherine stresses the fact that the seafloor that will be dragged and trawled offers a highly irregular topography. These data seem to worry Bertrand a little insofar as it wasn’t anticipated that the fishing nets would be used on such a rough bottom. Why are they working on the floor? Because in the cabins, the most space available is on the floor in the end! During this time, some expedition members have volunteered to meet with Edi, a physician, in a cabin that has been transformed into a doctor’s office. Edi is alone on board to look out for the health of all the people embarked on the ship, a total of 52 scientists and 24 crew members. He thinks it’s wise to train some of us in first aid measures. So we will take training classes just after the lunch break during the days to come. It is not easy to master the precise medical vocabulary, in English to boot. But Edi goes to great lengths to make himself understood as clearly as possible!
An operating room is also provided in case of medical emergencies on board.
Edi tells us about a woman who was operated on for appendicitis on board the Aurora Australis two years ago when she came to an Antarctica station for the entire southern summer. The operation was a success and the woman was able to finish out her summer without any problem. So once more we are reassured: thanks, Edi!
During this time, Romain is peacefully reading his historical novel of ocean adventure while availing himself of the sun’s rays that manage to pierce the clouds.
But watch out for the sunlight! We are drawing near to areas over which the ozone layer has holes in it: ‘total screen’ sun tan lotion is becoming compulsory.
18 December 2007We’d barely sat down for breakfast when Martin told us that the first measuring instrument for the CEAMARC program was about to be put in the water.
Without losing a second, S. left to go on deck and photograph the event. It was the Continuous Plankton Recorder (CPR), which can take samples of plankton over a fixed period of time, up to 36 hours maximum.
The apparatus is very heavy (87 kg) so it takes at least two sailors to carry it. It holds a film infused with an adhesive that captures the planktonic organisms. At the beginning, the film is attached to a wheel then it unrolls onto a second wheel after it’s submerged, thanks to a little motor activated by a screw.
After it is covered with plankton, the film is recovered and plunged into a preservative solution. It is fixed then studied in the laboratories of Graham Hosie and Sarah Robinson in Australia. The crewmen are taking the CPR to the edge of the rear of the ship.
But just as the equipment is about to be released, a technical glitch carries the CPR upward and hinders it being put in the water. The efficient and professional crew quickly brings the incident under control: a second try at putting it in the water works successfully.
For its part, the CEAMARC team is meeting to determine how operations will unfold. After setting up the wet lab, the researchers draw up a list of the last practical questions for the logistical head: how best to set up the containers of formaldehyde outside but near the laboratory? how to transport the alcohol from the upper deck to the wet lab? how to fasten the aquariums to be used for photographs on the cushions, etc.
Everything is quickly resolved by the ever efficient Martin Riddle and Sarah Robinson. The French team of the CEAMARC program will debut its maneuvers on December 23.
Suddenly the alarm sounds, telling us we have to go to the assembly point on the helicopter platform, dressed in our polar outfits.
The rest of the day is spent
19 December 2007That’s it, we’ve crossed the latitude line 50° South, called the ‘Furious Fifties,’ because the weather in these regions can be terrible! You usually expect the worst because this is where oceanic and atmospheric currents of the temperate and polar zones meet. Paradoxically, today we’re enjoying the steadiest of the ship’s movements. The captain is pleasantly surprised by the good weather overhead. ‘Touch wood,’ is what we hear on the bridge!
The Museum’s team is getting ready to take samples of marine organisms for preservation in the national collections. Containers of formol (43% formaldehyde solution in water) and alcohol (pure ethanol) were brought onboard the Aurora. Now it’s a matter of preparing the vessels to receive the specimens that are caught.
To do this, jars of sea water are topped off with formol: 9 parts sea water to one of formol. A total of 10 jars are ready to receive the specimens of marine life that are brought up.
For his part, Jean-François is taking care of assembling and preparing the trawls. The trawls, or drag-nets, are big conical nets that look like enormous scoops. The trawls used on the ship are kept open by a wooden pole. Since they can be easily torn by a rocky sea floor, we have brought 10 of them on board!
A long beam of Tasmanian oak (4 meters long and 16 cm wide) constitutes the primary brace of the trawl net and keeps the opening horizontal. At each end of it, forged metal braces keep the opening vertical. The bottom is made up of a shoe that glides over the ocean bottom and is slightly tilted on an inward curved rear heel.
Right now, Jean-François is splicing the two cables that will be laced to the braces, that is to say, he’s making buckles by hand at the end of each cable to fasten them to the braces.
Each cable is made of 6 twisted strands or threads around an oiled-textile core, and can take 11 tonnes of traction.
This is how the teams on board hope to collect organisms that will be used to describe benthic communities off Terre Adelie. 20 December 2007How many people have crossed the Antarctic Circle where the god Neptune reigns? And among them, how many have returned sound of body and soul? For woe to those who forget to pay allegiance to the god!
For several days, a mysterious calm has spread over the water. Never in a sailor’s memory has the sea stayed so flat for so long in these parts. The crew is pacing ... Obviously something is in the wind. Murmurs fly from deck to deck. Neptune is expected.
As they customarily do for crossing the equator, the crew of the Aurora Australis gets ready for a ceremony to mark crossing the Antarctic Circle. The Antarctic Circle is located at 66°33’ south, where our work will be in full swing. The initiation ceremony, like Christmas, will take place early while we are underway. Martin Riddle first carefully went to each cabin and made a list of those who did not yet hold certificate of passage of the line.
Preparations are made in secret and involve the crew, who readily take on this new role. The ceremony follows ancient traditions. The initiates, dubbed ‘neophytes,’ pass under the forked trident of the god Neptune (diabolically interpreted by Roger).
Edi, for the occasion, assists the crew, dressed up as Neptune’s daughter.
Nearly every member of the expedition bows gracefully to custom. Among the French team, only Catherine Ozouf, making the trip to the Antarctic for at least the tenth time, is exempt from this infamous ordeal. It’s thanks to her that you can enjoy these novel photos! After painting our faces with black marker, the organizers assemble us in the dining room to subject us to tests. On our knees, five in a row, at Neptune’s feet, we have to kiss the king’s salmon, incurring a number of blows from its teeth. Bertrand’s lip will remember the occasion: even a dead salmon can bite!
Special treatment is reserved for the French. We must eat a huge vegemite ‘lollipop.’
People who have never tasted this blackish-brown paste don’t know how lucky they are. Could it taste worse than cod-liver oil?! It may be rich in vitamin B and a staple for Australian children, but the French palate finds it very difficult to appreciate this concentrate of yeast extract. Fortunately, a liquid of salty tasting, fluoride blue stuff helped almost all of us swallow valiantly in the end.
Finally, Neptune’s assistants capped the ritual by energetically shampooing our heads with chocolate and corn.
Collateral damage: dining room laid waste, toilets stopped up, grains of corn in the showers.
Our courage will be rewarded with a certificate delivered by the captain, Ian Moodie, after we actually cross the Antarctic Circle. 21 December 2007Martin Riddle had told us from the beginning of the voyage: the first requirement for members of such an expedition is flexibility! We’re fully and happily proving it today since we’re celebrating Christmas four days ahead of time! Beginning December 22, operations on board the Aurora Australis will keep us from being able to revel all together on December 25.
Such a time shift may seem strange to land-based readers but on the ship it doesn’t matter because we lose track of time in our focus on one thing: the success of the scientific operations. Everybody adjusts to using time as a function of the constraints linked to the progression of scientific activities and to weather conditions.
As on any Australian research vessel, alcohol is forbidden on board. It’s called a ‘dry ship.’ Everyone accommodates the rule quite easily but it’s still nice to drink a glass of wine or a beer as an aperitif on this day. The captain of the ship makes a speech that ends by cutting the enormous fruitcake, decorated and iced with sugar, that was so generously This offered by the Tasmanian Shipping Supplies to the whole of the passengers.
The merrymaking is followed by a sumptuous feast.
Seafood followed by the main course of turkey helps the French feel not too far from home. Between mouthfuls of oysters and lobster, discussion flows freely and everybody wonders who will win the competition to spot the first iceberg. Roger, who seems to have missed his calling as an actor, changes his Neptune costume for a Santa suit to everyone’s great delight. He calls us up each in turn to sit on his knee and receive a small present.
Everyone on the expedition had to bring in his or her baggage a small gift to help fill Santa’s basket and the contents are redistributed entirely by chance. The presents are very varied: perfume, books, games, chocolates, calendars, candles, stuffed toys, etc. So although Santa Claus has chosen to live at the North Pole, he can also deliver presents as far away as the South Pole J! Suddenly, a rumor swells in the corridors: ‘Iceberg in sight!!’ Not one or two but everyone grabs a camera and heads to the ridge, straight up the five flights. And there it is, a dazzling spectacle: 2 nautical miles directly in front of the icebreaker, a superb iceberg. It measures about 200 meters long and 15 meters high. We are even more impressed because the visible part is only one-tenth of its true height.
The white giant petrel is immediately recognizable from its enormous wingspan (about 2 meters). It can be distinguished from the albatross by its more massive shape, shorter wings and two nostril tubes atop the beak.
At midnight, we watch the magnificent setting of the sun, which soon will not rise again ... 22 December 2007The morning, the sun did not rise... because it did not set the night before! The light stayed quite bright until 2300 h.
At midnight, there are still a lot us of us on the bridge to watch the setting sun. It holds off until 00h20 then slowly descends toward the horizon.
A strange clarity illuminates the bridge. Our amazement grows. The atmosphere suddenly seems unreal. Everyone is watching the sky closely and guessing the exact moment when the sun will reappear.
The most valiant among us are waiting for the sun to climb again. Finally, an hour and a half later, it does.
We are also keeping an eye on the sea and the ice floe, waiting for the least sign of life. The first birds were spotted long ago but the stars we’re waiting for this evening are the penguins.
Suddenly, Claire cries out from the bridge: “Penguins, penguins!” . Don’t worry about the vocabulary confusion. In English, penguins are what the French call ‘manchots,’ and the northern-hemisphere birds that are ‘pingouins’ in French, are 'auks' in English.
So we all head for the upper port deck and take photos of the penguins before they dive into the water, frightened by the closeness of the ship.
Most of us succumb to fatigue. We spend our first night on board without darkness. When we wake up, the spectacle is still just as wonderful. We rush to eat breakfast and return as quickly as possible to the bridge to look at the landscape and fauna before starting the scientific operations.
A crabeater seal is spotted. It’s strutting on its piece of the ice floe!
Contrary to what the name would make you think, there are no crabs in Antarctica. In fact, crabeater seals eat krill. Krill is a group of very abundant pelagic crustaceans called Euphausiids. These shrimplike organisms are also the base of whales’ diet.
Speaking of which, some of us have also seen whale blows. When they surface, whales exhale air from their lungs through their blowhole, creating a cloud of water droplets. The shape of the blow is unique to each species.
Meanwhile, Samuel is polishing his aquariums in the wet lab. He’ll use them to take photographs of the specimens that are brought up from the ocean depths.
And Stefan is creating a ‘cell-culture scale’!
With it, he hopes to counter the effects of swells: there will be more about this when we’ve crossed paths with hurricane Stefan!
Catherine alerted us to a distant snow ‘flake’: that’s a zone of meteorological perturbation that appears as a dark spot on the horizon and that signals the presence of snowy precipitation, given the negative temperatures here.
Next week - Week 2
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