August 15th, 2025 (Day 12)
“Land Ho!”
August 14th, 2025 – Day 11:
I’ve been sinking. I mean, thinking.
What would be a nice final activity to celebrate my last day on this ship? A meal in the galley? A rare ordeal for me yes, but it doesn’t sound special enough. Sleeping in? Done that a million times. Going to my morning shift? Fair enough, haven’t done that in a while.
So, another seasick morning, missed morning shift, two missed meals and a cup of liquid ivy water, I took a seat next to the CTD as usual.
Two months ago, I was excited about going back to Korea to spend time with friends and family. I had no worries, no assignments, no task to deal with. It was as if I forgot what being in school is like. For a month after I get off this boat, I’ll probably be doing the same thing back in California. The two weeks on this boat, amidst the seasickness, felt like a retreat from that lifestyle. It wasn’t anything like a vacation to Hawaii of course, but the daily blogs, countless shifts in the van, and hours spent drafting my project reminded me of what it’s like to have a purpose; to find a passion and chase it.
Being the academic weapon I am, I will probably forget all of this as soon as I step off the boat, but this blog will be my memorandum for when I forget why I chose to be on this boat. I think I will spend the last few hours pacing around, taking some mental images. Oh, and of course, can’t forget the merch. Who knows what tomorrow will hold? (Hopefully not a rough sea state.) I’m sure I’ll have more thoughts flooding myself tomorrow.
August 13th, 2025 Day 10:
Last night was probably the highlight of this trip. Not in the sense that the other days were uneventful. In fact, earlier today I watched a science pod get grappled out of the water (but that’s a story for later). Rather, it was because this was the calmest I felt throughout the whole trip. I was on the bow with some other friends where we stargazed in absolute silence. Granted I couldn’t stay long because I – you guessed it – got seasick, but it was mesmerizing to see the hundreds of stars sprinkled across the sky. Unlike last time where I was on the aft deck, there were no lights around and we had an unobstructed view of the stars, including a clear view of the big dipper as we weren’t looking directly into the moonlight. Occasionally meteors swept by, leaving us all in awe.
Fast forward to today. We got a bridge tour! This wasn’t my first rodeo as I’ve been up there for my seasickness meds, but it was certainly refreshing to be up there with a clear mind. I got to take a look at the boat’s controls (which were surprisingly simple for a 3,200-ton ship) and the maps they use for navigation. It turns out, research vessels have gone paperless for a while. Given my fairly recent memory of triangulating my location on a sailboat on a paper map with a compass, it seems that I have a lot of technology to catch up on. I also got to learn about the bow thrusters – or should I call them the sound that creeps up from below my pillow – that work with the main engines to keep the boat in place. Best part? Unlike the pesky out boards on small sailboats, these can rotate 350 degrees. You can practically control the boat with a joystick.
Unfortunately, Jason ran into some issues, so the dives are postponed, but we’ll see what they come up with tomorrow. Hopefully, we’ll be back on track soon.
August 12th, 2025 – Day 9:
Unfortunately, I did not last the transit. The Southern Hydrate Ridge will have to wait for another day. Right now, we are at the Oregon Offshore base, the first site we visited on this expedition. It’s foggy, but I can sense land is near.
The weather is calm, and swells are lower than before. The fog is thick, and I can’t see the horizon, but I know there isn’t much out there anyways. I managed to fulfill the second half of my morning shift and got lunch in the mess room. It’s unusually calm and everything has been going so smooth, but there’s an uneasy feeling that I can’t explain. I wonder what it’ll feel like when I step back on land. Will I get land sick? Will I miss the ship? Okay, maybe I’m not THAT sentimental, but I’ll definitely look back at this blog a week from now.
I got sidetracked. In fact, as I was writing we just began our transit to Southern Hydrate Ridge. I’m going to put my pen down until we get there…
Credit: UW/NSF-OOI/WHOI; J2-1715; V25.
I finally witnessed the methane seeps. Just like the hydrothermal vents, there was nothing grandiose about them. In fact, since the seeps don’t form chimneys, they are easily admissible to the naked eye. But the sight of sheets of methane ice like bare bones of a long-lost skeleton scattered across the seafloor was enough to excite my tired self. I believe this now marks the end of the list of things I hoped to see during this trip. The next three days should pass by like a breeze.
August 11th, 2025
Never have I ever lamented being short more than I did earlier today. I was sitting at my normal place on deck, hoping my seasickness would go away as usual. In front of me was a rail that prevents me from seeing the horizon, but I figured I felt better when I’m low on the ground. A crew member feeling pity on me, brought out a camping chair for me to sit in with the comment, “Now you can see the horizon.” Thanking her, I took a seat in the chair. And guess what? I still couldn’t see the horizon. Aside from that though, I had quite the day.
First of all, I got to meet with the Captain of the ship. It was intriguing to learn the processes that the crew and Captain undergo months in advance to prepare for each expedition, including all of the weight calculations and plans for docking and undocking. Going through all of that paperwork ,while being on call 24/7, must be quite a feat. Courtesy of the Captain, we also got a sneak peak of Alvin, the 3-person deep diving submersible onboard the R/V Atlantis. While we weren’t able to get a full tour (I could tell that getting the covers back on would be a massive pain), but it was fascinating to be up close to such an engineering marvel. Not to mention, I learned that Alvin and Jason practically share the same arm model.
Another piece of good news: I felt good enough to help out with some lab work today! Well, that is until the transit began. It seems like we will reach Southern Hydrate Ridge tonight, so I’ll see if I can stay awake for that though.
August 10th, 2025
8:00AM
Still in bed.
12:00PM
Still in bed.
4:00PM
Still in bed.
I was pretty sure the transit should be over by now, but for some reason the ship was still rocking back and forth in a wild motion. 5:00PM hit and I realized I couldn’t stay like this any longer, and I was sure to miss a full day. I moved the bed curtains aside to take a look outside the window. There isn’t one. Right. After much procrastination, I got up, jumped into my ski pants, ran up the stairs, down the hallway, and out into the fresh breeze, just in time for Mother Nature’s greetings.
So, it turns out, I should have been more specific when asking for good weather. 9-foot swells greeted me underneath the clear blue sky. I paused for a second as each crest of a wave touched the horizon before sinking down below the rails. Mesmerizing sure, but my stomach wasn’t a huge fan of it. I could tell I’d be spending most of my time out here on the aft deck today. I swiftly sat down and made myself comfy.
After a few hours of aimless staring, however, I did find a silver lining in the clouds. Harsh weather conditions meant Jason’s dives were postponed, and until operations resumed the deck would be pretty much empty. At this point it was already 8PM and I figured I’d give myself a little tour of the aft deck.
It was already starting to get dark, and I hadn’t put much thought into what I was getting myself into. So, it came as a pleasant surprise when I went around the corner of the ship and came face to face with the sunset. The swells were still high, but as the evening set in before my drowsy eyes, the horizon lit up in a wonder of orange and gold. It was as if a kid spilt a pack of glitter into the pot of gravy on a thanksgiving afternoon – humbling yet fascinating (it must be the meds messing with me). On the other end of the horizon was the moon making its grand appearance; an orange marble soaring up into the dark sky.
The stars, of course, were a wonder of their own. Through the darkness I could make out the array of white lights sprinkled across the emptiness. I pointed at one particular bright light zooming across the sky.
“Must be a satellite,” I exclaimed.
It stopped, then zoomed back to where it was before as if it were offended by my comment. Turns out, the ship’s swaying motion made everything seem like they were moving. Feeling nauseous again, I made my way back to bed.
August 9th, 2025
The day I dreaded the most has finally come: transit day. I was fully prepared, a bag of saltine crackers and a full bottle of water, a cup of liquid ivy and my trusty bucket all snuggled up next to my bunk. It was 6AM and from what I was told before, it would be a matter of hours until the transit began. But time ticked by and the anticipated sound of the hull slamming into the water with a boom never happened. A little past 12PM, I climbed out of my bunk.
Turns out, the transit got delayed. It wouldn’t be until 7PM that the boat heads back again. I was glad I got out of bed as if it weren’t for that, I could have gone two days without a proper meal. I figured I’ll get dinner as early as possible, grabbed my pen and clipboard, and headed out to my usual favorite place. After all, I’ve been behind on my blogs (I only began writing four days into the expedition).
On a side note, the new seasickness meds have been doing wonders. It’s not 100% but as long as I can walk around the deck without leaning overboard every hour, I consider it a success. We’ll see if the medication holds for the rough weather ahead. Worse case scenario, I’ll take my dad’s advice: “Just don’t think about it.”
August 8th, 2025
For the first time in my life, I achieved something incredible. That’s right. I got out of bed to the sound of my first alarm. I wasn’t about to miss my first chance of seeing a hydrothermal vent up close.
To my surprise, the van wasn’t at all crowded. I thought people would be piling into the van to catch a glimpse of the vent, but it made sense when I learned that Jason would be diving the whole day. Fair enough, I thought, as I figured that I wouldn’t have been up if it weren’t for my shift either. I took a seat and fixed my eyes on the dozens of monitors in front of me.
About half an hour later, a faint vision of black smoke began to fade into the pilot’s monitor. As the ROV Jason approached closer, I could make out the chimney and holes the black smoke was spewing out from. The rocking and swaying of the ship made me feel nauseous, but I wasn’t about to let it ruin the moment. I stuck around long enough to witness both the Inferno and Mushroom vents as the ROV did a full 360-degree survey up and down each chimney.
Three hours later, I was leaning over the side of the R/V Atlantis, feeling miserable but with no regrets.
Unfortunately, from what I’ve figured, worsening seasickness means the end of my day. I’ve switched to a new medication so hopefully I’ll get some promising results. Until then, I’ll get some shut-eye next to the CTD. Jason will be conducting a dive during my afternoon shift, so I’ll try to catch a glimpse of the vents one more time. Then I’ll prepare myself for the 20-hour hibernation as we make the long transit back to Slope Base. It’ll be rough, but at least this time I know how to be prepared.
August 7th, 2025
You’ve probably noticed by now if you’ve read my previous blogs, but I have a favorite spot on this boat – the aft starboard deck. This is where most of my activities (aside from my shifts in the van) happen. I’ve already done multiple CTD retrievals on this deck, and for the first time today, I practiced deploying the CTD. Turns out my past times as a sailor came in handy as the bowline knot, cleat hitch, and line handling techniques were laid upon me just like they did in sailing.
But the best part was the serenity. While the R/V Atlantis never sleeps and the sound of engines rumbles everywhere I go, this deck is where I can listen to the sound of wave and relax myself. Whenever I feel seasick (which is pretty much all the time), I’ll lean back on one of the CTD winches and close my eyes.
It feels weird being offshore, especially knowing that the nearest land is a whole day away. Waking up to nothing but the deep blue ocean is equally terrifying as is astonishing. With still a week away, the last day on this ship is merely a dream. My dreams on this deck are always about getting back on land and – well – “touching grass”. Afterall, the only greens I have seen on this boat came from the salad bar.
Thankfully, I have things to look forward to. After an overnight transit, (which, luckily will happen while I’m asleep,) we will arrive at the place all of us on board has been imagining; the hydrothermal vents. Today we arrived at the base of Axial Seamount, but there is a long way to go to reach the summit and the vents. I’m excited to see the vents through a screen knowing I am sitting in a chair 1.5 km above them! Seriously though, I have never been out this far and I am not about to miss this opportunity of a lifetime. Moreover, there will be samples brought up from there that I might actually get to interact and experiment with! So though the homesickness lingers, I can’t wait for tomorrow.
August 6th, 2025
The day started off rough. I woke up to the sound of the ship crashing into the waves. I was staying in the forward berthing, which meant that my cabin was heavily affected by that motion. Every time the boat lifted up from and fell back into the water, I could feel my whole body jumping up and down on my bed. Only until the afternoon was I able to climb out of bed, sick and tired.
Thankfully, the trip didn’t last long. The boat finally arrived on site at around 8 PM, marking the end of a 20-hour transit. I was relieved that I could finally catch a break, both from staring at the horizon and hugging an orange bucket all alone on the starboard aft deck.
In fact, I am writing this blog at the exact spot. I must have built a reputation for it, as instead of saying good morning, many of the crew members would ask if I’m okay or if I needed anything. It was like trick-or-treating except you don’t usually get ginger candies and saltine crackers in your pumpkin basket. Nonetheless, I am thankful to have this support.
I have made it this far and am able to write this blog because of the copious amount of ginger candies, bananas, citruses, cushions (as I was sitting on a hard deck for hours on end), and much more. Some volunteered to cover my shifts when I was sick and stuck in my bunk, while others came by to check on me. So far, my answers have always been “I’m alright for now,” but hopefully I will get my sea legs soon.
On a side note though, the food onboard is amazing. From french toast to breakfast sausages and meatloaf, the choices are endless. I’ve missed out on a lot of the meals as I was sick, but as soon as I get my sea legs I’ll definitely be making it to as many meals as possible.
August 5th, 2025
My shift began right after we arrived at the Oregon Offshore Site location at eight in the morning. It was about to be a similar day to yesterday, but there was one slight difference – I wasn’t just standing by. When the CTD was being pulled up, I got to be on the radio, communicating with the winch on what depths we wished to sample at and firing the Niskin bottles, which turned out to be as easy as clicking a single button. Then, I went out to help with the CTD retrieval, where I got to set up retrieval lines and help bring the CTD on deck. These hands-on experiences (along with a hard hat and life vest that read “Atlantis” on it) made me feel like I was on the team.
For the remainder of my morning shift, I remained in the Jason van for a dive. This was my first time in the van for a shift, and I felt anxious as I entered the room. The van was dark inside except for a dozen screens showing various cameras on the ROV. Next to me was a server stacked up to a height greater than mine. It was silent, except for the occasional radio chatter discussing the dive. Surely this was going to be a tense operation.
I was wrong. An hour into the dive, we were jamming to the song “A Thousand Miles” as ROV Jason’s portside arm wiped off biological material from the Profiler with a toilet brush. I particularly enjoyed the way they cleaned the covered wet-mate connectors, as I thought it would be a much more intricate task than simply shaking it up and down.
But I wasn’t in the van just for fun. My task was to log video records by switching between cameras so footage could be reviewed later. I also utilized the 4K camera to record overviews of the instruments at the seabed and saved screenshots. As for now, this seems like my main task for each shift, though I would love to try out logging Jason’s activities in the future.
August 4th, 2025
Early morning, I woke up to the sound of engines roaring. I rushed up to the deck to see the R/V Atlantis pulling away from the dock. The 11-day journey had just begun.
My day started off with muster drills and procedures for emergencies. I also got to try on the immersion suits, which were tight and uncomfortable (similar to wetsuits), but nonetheless very warm (it also made us all look like the CDAs from Monsters Inc.)
But the real fun was yet to come. Four hours into the expedition, we reached out first site, the Oregon Shelf. Here, we deployed the CTD to a depth of 200 m and then obtained water samples at 20 m increments. I learned how Niskin bottles collect ocean water samples and what data could be collected from them, but more importantly, I got to see a CTD up close for the first time. The amount of technology that goes into a seemingly simple machine was astonishing. I watched as an intricate collection of sensors hidden behind the Niskin bottles mapped out a depth profile from the surface to depths, all while Niskin bottles were remotely triggered from the computer lab on the ship to collect water samples on its way up.
When the CTD finally came up, I learned how to collect the water specimens. Though I didn’t take count, I probably collected more samples from the Niskin bottles today than I ever had in the past. After all, it’s not every day that you end up on a research vessel, and I wasn’t about to miss out on any of the opportunities.