There she goes
After about 8 hours of "final" preparations, we finally sent the lander down at 9 am. Deploying a lander is tricky business. The whole thing weighs about 3.5 tons. It's 7' high, not including the 10' mast, and maybe 5 or 6' across. She's a beast.
Andrew and I checked, then double-checked, then triple-checked the lander. We tightened down the screws. We made sure there were no air bubbles in the equipment. We applied high-vacuum grease to each of the electrical connections. We made sure all the connections were water tight.
Actually, one of the great challenges of working with the lander is the juxtaposition of the frame's massive size with the sensitive nature of the electronics it carries. The two exist on completely different scales. Working on the lander means using a delicate touch, fine motor control, and a close attention to detail at one moment, then getting out of the way of a 3.5 ton beast the next. Andrew and I took painstaking meaures to grease the O-rings, remove all humidity, and seal the housing for one of the lander computers; then Andrew climbed over the very same computer to reach the top of the junglegym lander just a few minutes later. The lander is at once miniscule and massive, sensitive and stable, vulnerable and foreboding. Maintaining such a complicated piece of equipment is mentally and physically gymnastic.
Once all the electronics were checked, we assembled a deck crew and armed ourselves with hard
hats, life vests, and steel-toed boots. The plan was to lift the lander using the ship's starboard crane, carry it slowly over the side of the deck, and lower it into the water. The starboard crane was rated to lift loads far heavier than our lander, but when we attached it, the crane was only able to lift the lander about 2" off the deck. We needed a Plan B.
Enter the ship's aft crane. It's much stronger than the starboard crane and had lifted the lander before. We made a quick switch, attached the aft crane cable, and started to lift. The lander rose off of the deck with no problems, and those manning tag lines pulled them tight. The crane slowly swung out over the water and lowered the lander to the surface. When the top row of floats was submerged, Andrew pulled the trigger line to release the lander. With one firm yank, the metal hook slid open, and the lander sank into the abyss.
Right now, the lander is sitting on the abyssal plain, about 4000 m below where I'm writing. It's recording oxygen concentrations in the water and taking sediment samples for us. After 48 hours, we'll call it back up and see if all our preparations were worth it. My hopes are riding on a circuit board in a sealed housing about 4 km away.
Andrew and I checked, then double-checked, then triple-checked the lander. We tightened down the screws. We made sure there were no air bubbles in the equipment. We applied high-vacuum grease to each of the electrical connections. We made sure all the connections were water tight.
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| Andrew and I in our usual pose: crouched next to the lander, double- or triple-checking something. Photo by Lee Frey. |
Once all the electronics were checked, we assembled a deck crew and armed ourselves with hard
hats, life vests, and steel-toed boots. The plan was to lift the lander using the ship's starboard crane, carry it slowly over the side of the deck, and lower it into the water. The starboard crane was rated to lift loads far heavier than our lander, but when we attached it, the crane was only able to lift the lander about 2" off the deck. We needed a Plan B.
Enter the ship's aft crane. It's much stronger than the starboard crane and had lifted the lander before. We made a quick switch, attached the aft crane cable, and started to lift. The lander rose off of the deck with no problems, and those manning tag lines pulled them tight. The crane slowly swung out over the water and lowered the lander to the surface. When the top row of floats was submerged, Andrew pulled the trigger line to release the lander. With one firm yank, the metal hook slid open, and the lander sank into the abyss.
Right now, the lander is sitting on the abyssal plain, about 4000 m below where I'm writing. It's recording oxygen concentrations in the water and taking sediment samples for us. After 48 hours, we'll call it back up and see if all our preparations were worth it. My hopes are riding on a circuit board in a sealed housing about 4 km away.
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