6 September 2023
I spent most of the evening of the 4th sitting in the ROV control van watching Jason working around hydrothermal vents in Axial Caldera. A significant portion of the dive was spent trying to find the perfect place to set the sampling cap for the DNA and hydrothermal fluid sampler to sit. Most of the small plumes of geothermally heated water just did not have enough flow or were hot enough for the probes. After at least an hour and a half, a hot enough spot was found.
The following dive, which I had to actually log for, was down to the same vent field (International District) as the DNA and fluid sampler. The purpose was to replace a still camera pointing at the DNA sampling cap and to add a temperature probe to a nearby vent.
During this dive I also got a sample for my project. The plan initially, was to get a water sample of hydrothermal vent fluid and a sample from a “background” (non-plume) site. However, only one of the water samplers fired. Fortunately, it was the sample within the vent plume.
When we got the sampler back to lab to fill my bottles there was no doubt that this was vent fluid. Imagine the smell of a Yellowstone geyser or a rotten egg. That is the smell that wafted from the samples. That being said, in front of me sat hydrothermal vent fluid from 1500 meters below the ocean surface!
I was able, fortunately, to get a background water sample from a nearby, but different area within the caldera on the next dive.
About two liters of each sample were filtered down leaving cells and other material in the water larger than 0.7 micrometers, or approximately one tenth the diameter of a human hair. The filters were then immersed in acetone and set in a -80°C freezer (although acetone does not freeze at -80°C) to preserve the material for analysis.
Most of the rest of the day was spent watching Jason dive or cleaning instruments that Jason had recovered from the seafloor. Finally, as we began the 20 hour transit back to Newport, I was able to go to sleep early and get a full night’s sleep.
4 September 2023
The first order of business at Axial Base was to conduct another CTD cast that came up at about midnight. This cast went all the way down to about 2600 meters, so it took much longer than the 200 meter cast on Leg 2.
I spent the first part of my shift sampling water from the bottles on the rosette for nutrients, chlorophyll, and salinity. A combination of transiting to the next station and poor weather meant that sampling was all I did that shift. On the bright side, that meant I got a little more sleep that evening.
Much of the following day was spent waiting for the seas to settle down before starting the first dive of the Leg to reposition an instrument that we had lightly dropped over the side of the ship and to bring up the old version.
Jason did not get into the water until about 3 PM, and by 10 PM that evening the cable that connects Jason to the ship had been damaged resulting in the Jason team working on repairs for the next 8 hours. Again, no shift for me. If it hasn’t been evident, this Leg has so far been dominated by poor weather and tech issues.
By about 6 AM, Jason was back in the water and work to begin again replacing more equipment on the seafloor that help observe the activity in the Axial Caldera. Much of the day, surprising, went without a hitch; until it didn’t of course. One of the instruments scheduled to go on the next time was not communicating with the computers that would tell it what to do when down on the sea-floor. The waves, however, had finally calmed down and no weather delays occurred during the day.
We, the students also spend a portion of the day listening to a presentation done by a previous UW oceanography student about protists endemic to hydrothermal vents as epibiota of tubeworms. Much of the meeting, however, was spent just trying to get the projector to work properly. The final part of my shift that afternoon was sitting in the ROV control room logging the dive as Jason descended back into the Caldera.
2 September 2023
Because of weather delay, which kept us in Newport an extra day, we started the 24 hour transit to Axial Base at about 2 PM on September 1st. As we were leaving, I was lucky enough to see a Pacific sea nettle swimming near the NOAA dock.
The sea was a little rougher this time around though making for a bumpy and rocky ride. Fortunately, I seemingly had not lost my sea-legs after our stay in port and managed to not get seasick.
Shortly after leaving port, we were greeted by a Mola Mola sunning itself on the surface; no doubt trying to warm itself up before another deep dive for a gelatinous meal.
Unfortunately, given the angle I was unable to get a good photo of it. We also saw spouts of spray along the coast during our departure indicating whales were present nearby although we were unable to see the whales themselves. The transit itself was otherwise uneventful. I contented myself to read in an attempt to keep my mind off of the pitch and roll of the ship.
Sleep was difficult. Normally, the rhythmic rocking during fine weather was beneficial toward a night’s sleep. However, the uncomfortable—and often unpredictable—pitching and rolling of the ship in this foul weather that made things on the ship go bump in the night. I am unsure of how much I slept, but I am confident that I spent more time lying awake than actually sleeping. Still, I was better off than many of my compatriots.
We were all looking forward to arriving at Axial Base, we could breathe a slight sigh of relief. It would likely be a little calmer on station and we would be able to focus on the work that was being done. The first order of business was to (gently) toss an HPIES instrument over the side of the ship, wait a couple hours for it to sink to the seafloor 100s of meters below, and retrieve the previous year’s instrument with Jason. Afterwards, we would transit again toward the Axial caldera where we would do more work surrounded by hydrothermal vents.
28 August 2023
The transit to Southern Hydrate Ridge was smoother than the one from Newport to Axial Seamount, either that or I’ve simply gained my sea-legs in the meantime. We arrived at Southern Hydrate Ridge right at dawn, not that I was awake for it. I woke up in time to see the second dive go into the water. The descent down was much more eventful than the descents at Axial. Because we were closer to the coast, the waters were much more productive and there was a lot more visible life in the water column.
Near the surface we saw an unknown shark. As we sank deeper we were greeted by ctenophores, sea jellies, siphonophores, and shrimp. The seafloor also seemed more alive with non-microbial life (although there were plenty of bacterial mats). Hagfish squirmed around in the sediment, rockfish sat motionless, and sea urchins littered the sea floor.
Just as Jason arrived at the sea floor however, it was time for a tour of the Thompson’s bridge. We were shown the Thompson’s navigational computer, and digital maps that are used to plan the routes from station to station. The crew member on watch also regaled us with a couple of his more interesting stories talking to fishing vessels over the radio.
Unfortunately, after our bridge tour we learned that two folks on board the ship had tested positive for Covid, and shortly after we learned that we were only able to enter the Jason control room when we were on watch. While that put a damper on the day a bit, I still had my shift to look forward to and saw some sort of marine mammal (a porpoise of some sort maybe) surface a few times around the ship.
The series of dives that occurred during my shift were to recover a few instruments and cables that had observed change around a site known as Einstein’s Grotto. As soon as Jason entered the water we were surrounded by a school of lantern fish and as we descended we were followed by a group of a dozen mola molas.
On the sea floor, we spotted methane bubble plumes, octocorals, and skates. I concluded my shift with a survey of the biology and changing geology of Einstein’s Grotto.
26 August 2023
Last night at about 3:30 am work on station could begin. The tail end of my shift was spent preparing the CTD rosette for the first cast of the Leg. Each bottle, or Niskin, on the rosette can be closed on command to get a water sample from a specific depth. This cast we only went down to about 220 meters, closing two bottles at 20 m intervals. After the CTD came back up and was secured, we spent the next hour taking various samples from each depth: oxygen concentration, dissolved inorganic carbon, nutrients, salinity, and chlorophyll. The results from these samples are used to cross-check the measurements taken by the shallow profiler moored nearby.
As soon as it was dawn, the first ROV dive of the Leg started; its goal was to cut the science pod from the Shallow Profiler Mooring 200 m below the ocean surface. The winch that pulls the science pod down during its twice-daily ascents through the water column had broken and left the pod stranded about 40 m below the surface. Jason, using a pair of hydraulic scissors, cut the cable allowing the pod to rocket up to the surface.
A series of dives followed to replace pieces of the mooring platforms that would stay for the next year. During this time, I assisted in cleaning the layer of biofouling that had collected on the science pod during the last year. While a power washer was able to shorten the work, all of the instruments needed to be hand-brushed and then hosed down to prevent damaging them.
We arrived at the first hydrothermal features of the trip late during the evening in the ASHES hydrothermal field. It took Jason about an hour and a half to descend the 1600 m separating us from the vents below. When we arrived we were greeted with mounds of pillow lavas, bushes of tube worms, and the occasional mound of precipitated minerals signifying a hydrothermal vent. Covering these mounds were worms (so many worms), tiny snails, and white bacterial mats.
Navigating this figurative oasis were red sea jellies, rattails, and nondescript small, white fish. The purpose of this dive was to replace a HD camera pointed at one of the vent called Mushroom and an instrument measuring the chemistry of hydrothermal fluid in the surrounding, seemingly bare, sediment.
I awoke this morning to the news that one of MBARI’s AUV’s had gotten itself stranded in the water column and was not responding to commands sent out by the nearby MBARI ship the R/V Rachel Carson. Fortunately, Jason was able to find the AUV and attach a float to it, allowing the Carson to pick up the otherwise dead-in-the-water instrument. After that adventure, we started our transit to Southern Hydrate Ridge to replace equipment observing the methane seep and surrounding communities.
23 August 2023
We arrived at the Newport NOAA facility to board the University of Washington’s R/V Thomas G. Thompson the day before we were scheduled to depart for our first stop. Surrounding the Thompson were ships operated by other giants of the oceanographic world: Scripps Institution of Oceanography’s R/V Sally Ride, and Monterey Bay Aquarium Research Institution’s R/V Rachel Carson. Here I was, in a research vessel operated by another large research institution about to embark on my first deep water research cruise; suddenly it all felt very real.
We spent the first hour on-board settling into our new home for the next two weeks. I met my roommate, the other students, scientists, and crew; donned a red emergency immersion suit (imagine a firetruck red Gumby), learned about life and safety while at sea; and was given the opportunity to explore the ship. That night I went to bed early (and made sure to take some anti-seasickness medicine) in an attempt to get a good night sleep before our 7:00 AM PST departure time.
I made my way out onto the side of the ship at 7:05 AM just as we were pulling away from the NOAA dock. Staring at the water 8 meters below I was greeted by sea birds including pelicans, gulls, and cormorants; harbor seals bopping up and down in the water; the cacophony of sea lions in Newport’s harbor; sea jellies dominated by 1000s of hand-sized crystal jellies and rarely, Pacific sea nettles. Before long, we were out of Yaquina bay and in the midst of the thick ocean fog.
A tour of Jason—Woods Hole Oceanographic Institute’s ROV (remotely operated vehicle)—followed. We would be working with the over 4 ton robot over the course of the next two weeks, logging dives and cataloging any biology seen while Jason completed its work. Next, we were introduced to the brains of the operation, the ROV control van. The two shipping containers bolted together were filled with a dozen monitors, contained terabytes of video and photos, and were where the ROV pilots worked. During a dive, a pilot would sit in the front center of the room—the hot seat—surrounded by buttons, joysticks, and manipulators. I am excited to be in there and to be part of the team recording the dive.
The rest of the day would be spent learning how to set-up and sample from the ship’s CTD (conductivity, temperature, and depth) rosette, listening to a presentation given by the chief scientist about deep-sea biology and his involvement in the cabled array, and a well-needed dinner. Immediately following dinner I made my way to my bunk in an attempt to get some sleep before my midnight to 4:00 AM shift started. As I am writing this at 1:00 AM, we are still about 2 hours away from our first stop where I’ll assist with a CTD cast before the first ROV dive at dawn.
We arrived at the Newport NOAA facility to board the University of Washington’s R/V Thomas G. Thompson the day before we were scheduled to depart for our first stop. Surrounding the Thompson were ships operated by other giants of the oceanographic world: Scripps Institution of Oceanography’s R/V Sally Ride, and Monterey Bay Aquarium Research Institution’s R/V Rachel Carson. Here I was, in a research vessel operated by another large research institution about to embark on my first deep water research cruise; suddenly it all felt very real.
We spent the first hour on-board settling into our new home for the next two weeks. I met my roommate, the other students, scientists, and crew; donned a red emergency immersion suit (imagine a firetruck red Gumby), learned about life and safety while at sea; and was given the opportunity to explore the ship. That night I went to bed early (and made sure to take some anti-seasickness medicine) in an attempt to get a good night sleep before our 7:00 AM PST departure time.
I made my way out onto the side of the ship at 7:05 AM just as we were pulling away from the NOAA dock. Staring at the water 8 meters below I was greeted by sea birds including pelicans, gulls, and cormorants; harbor seals bopping up and down in the water; the cacophony of sea lions in Newport’s harbor; sea jellies dominated by 1000s of hand-sized crystal jellies and rarely, Pacific sea nettles. Before long, we were out of Yaquina bay and in the midst of the thick ocean fog. A tour of Jason—Woods Hole Oceanographic Institute’s ROV (remotely operated vehicle)—followed. We would be working with the over 4 ton robot over the course of the next two weeks, logging dives and cataloging any biology seen while Jason completed its work. Next, we were introduced to the brains of the operation, the ROV control van. The two shipping containers bolted together were filled with a dozen monitors, contained terabytes of video and photos, and were where the ROV pilots worked. During a dive, a pilot would sit in the front center of the room—the hot seat—surrounded by buttons, joysticks, and manipulators. I am excited to be in there and to be part of the team recording the dive.
The rest of the day would be spent learning how to set-up and sample from the ship’s CTD (conductivity, temperature, and depth) rosette, listening to a presentation given by the chief scientist about deep-sea biology and his involvement in the cabled array, and a well-needed dinner. Immediately following dinner I made my way to my bunk in an attempt to get some sleep before my midnight to 4:00 AM shift started. As I am writing this at 1:00 AM, we are still about 2 hours away from our first stop where I’ll assist with a CTD cast before the first ROV dive at dawn.
While nearly 300 nautical miles offshore, we aren’t alone out here. A mere mile away sits the same R/V Rachel Carson that we were in port with, although they are no more than 3 specks of light in the pitch black surrounding us.
While nearly 300 nautical miles offshore, we aren’t alone out here. A mere mile away sits the same R/V Rachel Carson that we were in port with, although they are no more than 3 specks of light in the pitch black surrounding us.