Of dominoes and curve balls
The radio sprang to life. "Marine lab, this is Helmer Hanssen. Marine lab, this is Helmer Hanssen."
I could hear someone pick up the radio downstairs. Not 30 seconds later, Daniel had risen from his work station and headed down the steps. I leaned over the railing to listen in.
"We have collected your samples..."
Ah, exactly the message we had been waiting for. Another researcher currently in Ny-Ålesund needed sediment from the fjord, and it appeared the ship had completed her mission. I breathed a sigh of relief, because with this sample collection out of the way, the dive to retrieve my settlement plates could move forward. Daniel had been designated to drive the zodiac out and pick up the precious mud, so we couldn't go diving until he had returned. Like a game of dominoes, it only took one successful box core deployment to set it all in motion.
I settled back into the couch, satisfied that the dive would happen in the next few hours. Well, not so much. Apparently, the zodiac that was supposed to be driven out to the ship to collect the mud samples needed to be repaired. All movement was halted until 6 pm. (In case you're confused why we couldn't dive in the meantime, we also needed the zodiac for the dive.)
Dinner came and went. I headed over to the marine lab shortly after, expecting to find a returning zodiac and two available divers, but instead I caught a curve ball out of left field. The wind had picked up, so much so that it was unsafe to drive the zodiac out to the ship. Instead, I found the Helmer Hanssen approaching the dock to deliver the mud.
I could feel the wind stinging my face, even in a sheltered area next to a building. There was no way we would be able to dive in those conditions.
My silver lining was that as I stood outside having this realization, I got to see a beautiful green aurora. It was brighter than before but still not good enough to photograph without cheating. I watched it change shape, grow brighter, then dimmer, forming stripes and blocks and streaks in the sky until my face could no longer handle the wind.
I'm optimistic for a dive tomorrow morning. Daniel and Peter double-checked all of their gear, and I got myself set up in the lab. Unless the wind decides to cause us problems again, we should be ready to go. Here's hoping.
I settled back into the couch, satisfied that the dive would happen in the next few hours. Well, not so much. Apparently, the zodiac that was supposed to be driven out to the ship to collect the mud samples needed to be repaired. All movement was halted until 6 pm. (In case you're confused why we couldn't dive in the meantime, we also needed the zodiac for the dive.)
Dinner came and went. I headed over to the marine lab shortly after, expecting to find a returning zodiac and two available divers, but instead I caught a curve ball out of left field. The wind had picked up, so much so that it was unsafe to drive the zodiac out to the ship. Instead, I found the Helmer Hanssen approaching the dock to deliver the mud.
I could feel the wind stinging my face, even in a sheltered area next to a building. There was no way we would be able to dive in those conditions.
My silver lining was that as I stood outside having this realization, I got to see a beautiful green aurora. It was brighter than before but still not good enough to photograph without cheating. I watched it change shape, grow brighter, then dimmer, forming stripes and blocks and streaks in the sky until my face could no longer handle the wind.
I'm optimistic for a dive tomorrow morning. Daniel and Peter double-checked all of their gear, and I got myself set up in the lab. Unless the wind decides to cause us problems again, we should be ready to go. Here's hoping.
Comments
Post a Comment