In Search of Giant Squid
February 19, 1997 - Ingrid
The alarm rings at 6:00AM. It's still dark and the night was short. We
showered the night before to wash off the sunscreen and the salt spray,
so we can save that step and move right on to breakfast. In between
orange juice, toast and tea breaks, we install the recharged camera
batteries, put the recharged cell phone in its case, plug in the laptop
so it can recharge while were gone. (We have one converter for our 110
volt needs and we have to keep track of all the charge requirements).
Which direction is the wind blowing? Will the seas be choppy or smooth? We check the Smithsonian flag lashed to our balcony railing. Will I need sea sickness medication today? Better safe than sorry - I take one with my orange juice.
It's chilly, so we wear layered clothes. As the sun comes up,
the temperature rises to a comfortable 70-75 degrees . Layers will
come off and shorts go on. Extra clothes are packed for a southerly
cold wind can whip up without warning.
Notebooks and log books are packed, along with binoculars, 2 still cameras and 2 video cameras. Our satchels are pretty heavy by now. It's a good thing we decided to rent a car after 10 days of using bikes for all our needs. Life has suddenly become complicated as all the participants have arrived with van loads of scientific equipment and gear. Even though distances are all short, bikes just don't fulfill our needs any longer.
The MIT team in the room next to ours consists of Jim
Bellingham (right), designer and director of the Odyssey, Brad Moran (middle),
research and software engineer and Odysseys navigator and Bob Grieve (left),
operations manager. At 6:45, we hear Bob leave for the marine lab next
to the motel where the yellow submarine-shaped Odyssey has spent the
night. Last night the video tape from yesterdays dives was reviewed,
adjustments made by Jim and Brad to the computer program which runs the
AUV, and its batteries were recharged. The Odyssey sits on a cradle
built on a wooden wagon 4 ft. long. Bob reassembles the covers on the
Odyssey and begins the kilometer walk to the wharf, pulling his wagon behind
him. An informal gathering at the lab confirms todays plans, taking
sea conditions into consideration. Everyone then joins in the
procession, although Bob is the only one on foot.
We stop at the hotel kitchen, near the wharf, where 10 lunches are waiting to be picked up at 7:00AM. They're stored in the refrigerator, and I help myself to the box with the 10 bags and continue toward the wharf.
The Tanekaha is waiting alongside the pier. The swells and the low tide make it difficult to load the Odyssey wagon with the dock crane onto the stern of the boat. It's a tense moment, but each day the routine becomes easier to perform. We always have a visitor join us: either a National Geographic photographer, writer or producer, or a local Maori fisherman for local knowledge of the waters.
Everyones gear is carefully handed down from the wharf to the lurching boat below. Climbing down the dew-covered, mossy ladder is yet another feat of fancy footwork; timing is critical to gracefully landing on the surging deck.
By 7:30AM everything is in place and we pull away from the wharf. A check of the wind and seas helps determine which section of the canyon we will visit today and will also determine the configuration of Odysseys path under water. As we motor to the site 10 km away, Brad and Jim work in the wheelhouse at their laptops, programming the mission instructions into the navigational system.
At the chosen site, we launch the Odyssey with the help of the
boats A-frame crane from its wagon cradle into the water. Bob
jumps into the Zodiac dinghy and gently mothers the AUV alongside until
the final programming on the computer is completed.
Detach calls Brad from the wheelhouse, as Bob pulls the
computer cable from the sub.
The 60 second countdown begins.
5,4,3,2, MARK calls Brad, as Bob pushes the sub under the
water. The propeller begins and the yellow sub slowly
disappears in the clear blue-green water as it descends into the canyon
on its programmed spiral course. The video camera in the nose records
the entire trip down and back. It travels at less than 1 km/hour at a
750m depth for 50 min. before it spirals to the surface. The entire
trip takes 90 minutes. The second dive follows the same procedure at a
different site.
After 3 hours of video time, the MIT crew completes its mission
for the day. We head back to the wharf where we off load
Odyssey and crew and we pick up Adam Frankel, the scientist from
Cornell. He is a bioacoustician who lowers a string of 4 hydrophones
over the side near where the whales are feeding. He interprets the
clicks of the whales, and determines the depths at which they are
feeding (presumably on giant squid). It is there, then, where
tomorrows Odyssey dive will probably occur.
My task during all of these operations is to record the
activities on the 2 video cameras and 2 still cameras. When
Clyde is not busily engaged in helping on deck or in decision-making in
the wheelhouse, he handles a camera. After the gear is overboard,
there is opportunity to inform visitors on board of all the technical
aspects of this expedition; we also watch the seagulls, petrels and
albatross as they attack schools of krill swimming near the surface, an
occasional tuna or shark lazily swimming by or pairs of seals floating
on their backs sunning themselves. Our bag lunches are consumed
throughout the day, starting at 9:00AM.
By 4:00 PM we disembark and head for the lab where we watch the video of the Odyssey dives.
Dinner is shared with a mix of participants at one of many restaurants in town. We have decided on our favorites and we tend to patronize them the most.
Clyde has already given 3 talks to the townfolk, the most recent one to the Lions Club. The local interest in this project is very high and they are fascinated by our interest in Kaikoura and its nutrient-rich canyon. They're learning theres more than just whales and the tourists they attract.
What's left of the evening after returning from dinner is filled
with paperwork, recharging our equipment, mundane household
chores and checking our e-mail.
The weather for boat work has been spectacular and
exceptionally calm. According to the skipper, Rod Simpson (right)
and his son Mike (left) who is also the first mate, this is unusual
and he keeps reminding us to take full advantage of it before it
deteriorates. At this point, I'm looking for an excuse to stay at home
for a day; a stormy day is the only way it will happen.
Smithsonian Giant Squid Overview Page
gene carl feldman / gene@seawifs.gsfc.nasa.gov