|The aftermath of a wave over the back deck. The float was thankfully still in its|
plastic bag. The tape holding the cardboard box closed dissolves after a few
minutes in the water, releasing the float into the ocean (or wherever it is at the time).
The Roaring Forties were true to their name and kept us all rocking and rolling. It's easy enough to adapt when you're walking through a hallway - every once in awhile, a perpendicular step on the wall may be necessary. "Keep one for the ship" means always keep hand free to grab a railing. Less easy is the task of eating in the dining room when everyone's chair is shifting left and right, and the peas on your plate are following suit. The hardest may be to sleep through uneven rolls, a few which threaten to spill you right out of bed. The movement of the curtains on their metal track, the apple in your drawer (don't tell, we're not supposed to have food in our rooms) thumping back and forth with the swell. That being said, I've done alright. Thankfully I can sleep through a lot, and generally sleep better at sea than on shore. But from the grumblings at breakfast and the lack of people socializing in the evenings, I can tell that some of the others have had trouble.
|UW technician Rick readied Zora to be boxed up while back|
in Cape Town. The sensor visible at the base of the float
measures chlorophyll fluorescence and backscatter, from
which zooplankton populations can be studied.
The ship is returning to Gough Island, where there's a few more days of work for the helicopter pilots to do. We did the buoy run ahead of schedule to avoid a storm. Which, considering how high the seas were already, was probably a good idea. It's satisfying to have gotten the work done, and sent the floats off safely. Their work has just begun!
|My attempt at drawing a Zora.|
|Titans, pictured with Cape Town and |
Table Mountain in the background.
More on this float in a future post!