Problem solvers
We're getting the lander ready for another deployment tomorrow, so while there were a few calm minutes on deck, we put the lander's weights on. I've described this process to you before - it involves lifting the 3-ton beast about 10 inches into the air and sliding freakishly heavy weights underneath her. It is a delicate operation and a tour de force.
Getting the weights on was no problem, but a few minutes later, there was a loud snap. I peeked around the corner to find Andrew standing inside the lander's ring of floats, holding a segment of frayed wire rope. He handed it to me. "Could you go see if the ship has any more of this?"
When things break at sea, you have two options: (1) make do, or (2) give up. You can't just run to the hardware store and buy more of whatever you need. It's either on the ship, or it's not.
I turned to one of the crew members, Brian. He's been on the Thompson for a long time, and as far as I'm concerned, he knows everything there is to know about this ship. If anyone could lead me to wire rope, it would be him. I showed him the broken fragment in my hands and explained our plight. The wire rope is responsible for holding the weights onto the lander, so without it, the lander won't sink.
What happened next is actually pretty cool: Brian lead me down the main passageway of the ship, to a door in the wall that I had never noticed before. As he held open the storeroom door for me, I peeked inside and noticed the walls were slanted - narrower at the bottom than at the top. I was inside the bow!
The storeroom was full of boxes and crates in all sizes, and there were giant shackles hanging on the left wall. After about 5 minutes of watching Brian rummage through boxes and climb on the uneven shelves, I walked out carrying a spool of steel wire rope, a wheel cutter, two pairs of safety glasses, and a roll of electrical tape.
Back out on deck, Andrew measured the wire rope against the old fragment and marked the spot with electrical tape. We donned our safety glasses. We clamped one end of the wire in a vice. While I held the free end taut, Andrew turned on the wheel cutter and sliced through the rope. He was immediately showered in sparks, and I was glad to be as far away from the wheel cutter as I was.
We threaded the newly-cut wire rope through the proper places in the lander, slid a metal ring onto it, and prepared to secure the rope by crimping the ring shut. Crimping basically means squishing the ring flat with a giant tool that resembles pruning shears. There were two problems: first, the crimpers were too large to logistically fit into the space under the lander, and second, I wasn't strong enough to compress the crimpers, especially at a weird angle in a small space.
I ran inside to find someone stronger than me, and Andrew readjusted the wire rope so we had more space. Both solutions worked, and it only took 5 more minutes to get everything secured. We both thanked Brian profusely, and while Andrew made final adjustments, I put everything away. The lander is repaired. Crisis averted.
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| Wire rope: the difference between sinking and floating |
When things break at sea, you have two options: (1) make do, or (2) give up. You can't just run to the hardware store and buy more of whatever you need. It's either on the ship, or it's not.
I turned to one of the crew members, Brian. He's been on the Thompson for a long time, and as far as I'm concerned, he knows everything there is to know about this ship. If anyone could lead me to wire rope, it would be him. I showed him the broken fragment in my hands and explained our plight. The wire rope is responsible for holding the weights onto the lander, so without it, the lander won't sink.
 |
| This place is basically Narnia. |
The storeroom was full of boxes and crates in all sizes, and there were giant shackles hanging on the left wall. After about 5 minutes of watching Brian rummage through boxes and climb on the uneven shelves, I walked out carrying a spool of steel wire rope, a wheel cutter, two pairs of safety glasses, and a roll of electrical tape.
Back out on deck, Andrew measured the wire rope against the old fragment and marked the spot with electrical tape. We donned our safety glasses. We clamped one end of the wire in a vice. While I held the free end taut, Andrew turned on the wheel cutter and sliced through the rope. He was immediately showered in sparks, and I was glad to be as far away from the wheel cutter as I was.
We threaded the newly-cut wire rope through the proper places in the lander, slid a metal ring onto it, and prepared to secure the rope by crimping the ring shut. Crimping basically means squishing the ring flat with a giant tool that resembles pruning shears. There were two problems: first, the crimpers were too large to logistically fit into the space under the lander, and second, I wasn't strong enough to compress the crimpers, especially at a weird angle in a small space.
I ran inside to find someone stronger than me, and Andrew readjusted the wire rope so we had more space. Both solutions worked, and it only took 5 more minutes to get everything secured. We both thanked Brian profusely, and while Andrew made final adjustments, I put everything away. The lander is repaired. Crisis averted.
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