Week 1 — 28 November–4 December 2007

Daily Logbook entry from expeditioners on the Polarstern.

28 November 2007

Kelly Brown, University of Bergen

 

Cape Town at Night with lights
Cape Town at night.
Photo: Andre Meijboom, IMARES

There she was in the harbor, the R/V Polarstern, with several low slung buildings, a security fence and a visit through customs the only thing between me and my floating home to be for the next 10 weeks. You could just make out the familiar AWI logo on her smokestack over the rooftops, but with the rest of her hidden I couldn’t get a sense of her size. I’d been to sea before, but never aboard Polarstern, only in the Arctic and not for more than four weeks. A group of about a dozen scientists, technicians and students had gathered outside of the customs house in Cape Town in the heat of the midday sun, and the charity workers who were handing out food to the refuges seeking asylum in South Africa kept offering us sandwiches. I was anxious to get on board ship so I could unpack the suitcases I’d been living out of for the past week while on vacation in Cape Town and to make sure that all of our scientific equipment made it aboard. It would make for an especially long voyage if an important piece of kit were discovered to be missing!

 

Finally, after the last passport had been stamped, we were taken via shuttle van inside the secured harbor. My first impression of seeing Polarstern from the outside was that she’s the biggest research vessel that I’ve ever been to sea aboard and my second impression once aboard and searching for my room among her labyrinth of decks and corridors was that she was not only the biggest but the most confusing to get around in. But before long those who had previously sailed with Polarstern were giving guided tours to us newbies. Over the course of the day a total of 53 researchers made their way to the ship, filling the berths to capacity. With my husband and I both on the cruise, there were no surprises as to whom I’d be bunking with.

 

For security reasons we weren’t allowed access to the laboratories until we were pulled away from the dock, so I spent my afternoon organizing my things in the small but nicely laid out cabin. With two bunk beds, plenty of closet and cubby space, a desk, couch, refrigerator and private bathroom, it makes for a fairly comfortable home away from home. You can do a lot with a little space if you try!

 

The day wore on to dinnertime, and I was quite hungry and looking forward to tasting the wares of the crew who would be in charge of keeping me fed. It’s important that your stomach and the chef get along with one another when you’re facing 10 weeks at sea together. Fortunately there was a nice variety of tasty food to be had.

 

As nightfall approached we all made our way outside to the top deck to take in the view of Table Mountain and the cityscape one last time. It was a beautiful evening, and as Table Mountain disappeared into the darkness so did we as we pulled away from the dock. The wind and waves picked up the further out of the harbor we went, so I retreated below deck before the city lights were replaced by only starlight.

 

As the ship’s rolling increased, I paid a visit to the ship’s doctor for an anti–seasickness patch, deciding to be safe rather than sorry too late. I’m glad I did, as it seemed work. Then it was off to bed to be lulled to sleep by the ships rocking, feeling like a baby in a cradle.

29 November 2007

Brigitte Ebbe, Senckenberg

 

In the lab
Scientific equipment being prepared for the voyage.
Photo: A. Brandt, Hamburg

After the first night at sea which ended with a still stangely bright morning we start into a very busy day. We scientists get an introduction into the daily operations of the ship into which we will have to inegrate ourselves in the next 70 days, and after that a siren calls us for a first safety drill. Today this means only that we move to the assembly point on the heli deck, dressed warmly, wearing a hat and proper shoes and the life vest. The Antarctic already in my heart, I walk through the door to the outside- and I am very surprised to find the air still vey warm! We are still at 37° south, and a long way away from our study area. In the afternoon we busy ourselves getting the boxes, which we had packed such a long time ago, out of the containers. Mine are, like all the other Senckenberg boxes, quite close to the bow of the ship, while all the labs are aft and three decks below- improvisation is required here! But, as always, helping hands and organised minds are available fast, and within a short time boxes and tubs and other heavy and bulky things are carried down narrow hallways to the elevator (thank God for that...) and then down more narrow hallways to the labs. During dinner everybody enjoys not only the excellent food, but also a sense of achievement!

30 November 2007

Torben Riehl, University of Hamburg

 

Meta over board


The epibenthic sledge (EBS) called ‘Meta’ is a prototype of this gear designed by Nils Brenke. It consists of two frames of steel with a total weight of 484 kg , and it is 3.45 m long, 1.13 m high and 1.2 m wide. It is designed to sample benthic macro-fauna from shallow waters to depths of more than 6000m.


Meta was used many times in the Southern Ocean since the expedition ANDEEP I in 2002 and therefore shows many scars. None of the steel parts are straight any more.

 

Sparks flying while grinding
Sparks flying.
Photo: L. Weurzberg, University of Hamburg
Hoisting up equipment on side of ship
Hoisting up equipment.
Photo: B. Ebbe, Senckenberg

 


Unfortunately, the container including Meta, had been put on the front-deck. While all boxes and smaller instruments could be unloaded and carried to the right places relatively fast (see yesterday’s entry), this was not an option for the sledge. It took half a day for three people to dismantle Meta in order to reduce weight. On the blueprint this seems easy, but it had never been done before and many parts were fixed together due to corroded screws or deformed plates of steel. We had to use muscle power, hammers and a flex where wrenches and pliers did not do the job. Secured with rope and floats the frames were put over the side by the crew this morning. They drifted to the aft, where a crane heaved them on board again. It took us all day to completely rebuild Meta again and to substitute corroded or lost parts. Many thanks to all the people who volunteered and spent hours with us and especially to the crew for doing a fantastic job!

1 December 2007

Angelika Brandt, University of Hamburg

 

Helicopter over water front view
Helicopter operation on Polarstern.
Photo: T. Riehl, University Hamburg

Today is our fourth day aboard Polarstern, and we are underway to our first station. The ship looks very different already. Containers have been emptied, instruments installed, some scientists are occupied with their tricky electronics, but so far we have mastered every problem. It is hard to believe how much we have already done, how many nice and interesting people we have met and how much scientific exchange has already taken place. I feel like I have been on board much longer than four days.

 

Some time in the morning I asked myself what day of the week it was. The answer was easy once I saw the menu of the day in the mess room, which announced several stews. That was a clear sign for Saturday, because stew or soup is the traditional Saturday meal on ships. On Fridays fish is served, and on Thursdays it is seaman’s Sunday, meaning that the food is even better than on other days. Today’s pea soup was excellent, and the bread to go with the soup is hard to top with anything — a round of applause for our baker Thomas!

 

Besides the setting up of the labs, the day was devoted to many planning meetings. Several groups got together to do a dry run of their first station. Theoretically everything is under control now, the practical part will follow on 5 December. All interested friends of the deep sea should visit this website on 5 or 6 December at the latest.J

 

Tonight our meteorologist has predicted Beaufort 9. That means that in the labs everything has to be checked one more time and tied down if that has not been done already. It is a good thing that the station location is still more than two days away because in wind like that deployment of almost all gear is impossible. After the weather forecast, Volker presented an excellent overview of our research from the viewpoint of a physical oceanographer. He showed us how primary production, physical processes in the water column an biological processes on the seabed are linked together. We are very curious to find out whether our data will document coupling processes between these different systems as well. Everybody is anxiously awaiting the first station!

2 December 2007

Saskia Brix, Senckenberg

 

First Sunday in Advent

Helipad at stern of ship
Polarstern's helipad.
Photo: Lydia Kramer, Senckenberg

Today is Sunday, and it is the first Sunday in Advent 2007, recognisable by the kitchen serving us duck and red cabbage together with dumplings. Additionally, most of the scientists started decorating their working places with Christmas stuff, creating a holiday atmosphere even far away from home and the normal routine. There is a fairy light making for a Christmas atmosphere in the sorting lab and an Advent calendar (you get to open a door to look at little pictures hidden behind each day until Christmas Eve) around the next corner. While the lonely Continuous Plankton Recorder (CPR) is recording data behind the vessel, we enjoy Christmas cookies during tea time. The weather is a little bit unpleasant. With Bft 8-9 the wind is quite strong, and ever so often a wave is entering the working deck, so we are not allowed to go out there anymore. Thus, scientists and crew spend most time of the day inside. As we would like the first station to be in the region of a plankton bloom, we need the data collected by the CPR while underway. We will revisit the first station on the way back and then hopefully know more about the influence of the plankton bloom to benthic organisms living 2700 m below on the deep-sea floor? This is the whole idea behind our expedition. We want to know more about bentho-pelagic coupling. What happens in the water column and on the deep-sea floor. How is everything connected? Today for most scientists it is the last chance to relax before approaching the station and the first deployment of their gears during this cruise. During the daily evening meeting we discuss the deployment and the order of the gears. Due to the high waves, to deploy the gears may not be so easy. During the coming night wind will increase to Bft 10 and it will be quite rocky on board. In the labs, all equipment is well fixed and we are prepared.

3 December 2007

Niels Brenke, Senckenberg

 

Work Station with man
Work station.
Photo: M. Schuller, University of Bochum

Deep-sea camera for beginners


What a perfect day! I am on board of Polarstern for the first time, heading for the Antarctic. That is magnificent and exciting- a real adventure. We have high sea state, it is cloudy and windy. But that does not matter. I have got a nice little lab in the belly of the ship that is just right for what I am doing. During this cruise I am responsible for the deep-sea camera. With this camera we will take video footage of the ocean floor in depths to 5000 meters. The images will give us a first impression of the sediment characteristics and the abundance of animals in the deep sea. I am looking forward to this task, which I am facing for the first time, and I am anxiously awaiting the first images. Now I get started full of energy to put this camera together and make the first test photos and.... it is not working!


Scientific equipment three people
Troubleshooting the underwater video camera.
Photo: G. Veithler, Senckenberg

Well ... let’s see. No, that wasn’t it either. Read the instructions one more time, in detail for the first time. Yes, so far it seems I did everything right. Electric current ok, voltage ok, plugs are plugged in and.... it is not working! After several hours of trying this and that and consulting with my colleagues the camera is .... still not working! But giving up is not an option! I work deep into the night and I can limit the problem to a small plug with interrupted contact, and if one wriggles the contact, the camera.... is not working! Arrrrrgh.... overtired and frustrated I fall into my bunk.


Early the next morning I get experienced help from the ship’s ET. I explain the problem, turn on the camera and... it is not working! Well, I didn’t really expect it to. After a few more long hours, several hundred times of switching the thing on and off, reading circuit plans and giving up, testing the relais, dismantling platines and feeling despair, changing resistors, polishing contacts and becoming depressed we finally get to the core of the problem (well, actually the electronic technician does, I am really a biologist). We weld the very last possible connection once more and ... it works! The camera works again. I spend the better part of the night to reassemble the steering element of the camera. Now, after 48 hours, I am rather tired and finally in good mood again. Aside from the tasks lying ahead of us the best thing on board is the cooperation. Seamen and scientists form a team, helping out whenever necessary. Only in this way can we make our projects and thus the expedition success.


And me, I understand a lot more about currents and voltage than before.

4 December 2007

Sarah Herrmann, Svenja Kruse, Britta Wend, Alfred Wegener Institute

 

Scientific work with female in image
Using the fluorometer to measure chlorophyll.
Photo: B Ebbe

The sixth day on Polarstern followed a stormy night with 9 to 10 Bft winds. Even though we are still underway to our first station, scientific work is carried out nonetheless. Last Saturday we started with our continuous chlorophyll measurements to get an overview of phytoplankton productivity in different water masses. Every four hours, be it day or night, water samples are taken through the well hole of the ship and then filtered. The well hole is, as the name suggests, a hole in the ship which can be used to take samples of surface water. There is no danger of the ship sinking, though, because of the great updraft of Polarstern. For this morning the plan was to measure the chlorophyll content of the samples taken the day before with the help of the fluorometer (fondly named Fluoriane). Besides a few other methodical steps, this involves centrifugation of the samples. After we had christened the centrifuge Lieselotte, we started it. Aftter six minutes a stinging smell wafted through the lab, suggesting bad news, which undoubtedly originated from the direction of Lieselotte. Soon after that the latter began imitating sounds of a shredding machine, attracting helpful scientists from the lab next door. We were torn between running away and interfering and decided quickly to turn off the centrifuge. One glance at Lieselotte revealed a loosened rubber ring which had worked itself into the space between the fast rotating sample vials. Fortunately, nothing had happened to the samples. In the meantime Lieselotte is running again, and nothing is keeping us from working up the rest of the samples. Now the only thing we are waiting for is Bft 6 winds so that we can finish our preparations for the first station.

 

Next week — Week 2

 

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Cousteau ATS International Polar Year 2007-2008 SCAR MarBin CCAMLR SCAR COMNAP Census of Marine Life