October 10th, 20141158
Three days ago, at approximately 2130, we recovered our final OBS and started our 36-hour transit back to Narragansett, RI. We began docking procedures at Senesco Marine LLC at around 1300 yesterday and were all tied up by 1400. After the lines were clear, both watches performed some preliminary breakdown of the OBS equipment to help stage it for demobilization this morning. It was impressive how fluidly we took and executed directions after a month of working together. It was clear that the trip had bonded us as a team. After everything was done, the group headed out to enjoy our first night on land, which, as anyone whose been on a ship for an extended period will tell you, is just an incredible feeling. One of the eeriest moments, however, was all of a sudden being surrounded by people besides those you’ve been on the trip with. Also, the “dock rock” is an interesting experience.
This morning, after a wonderful, final breakfast made by our steward, Mike Duffy, we packed up the final gear and the crew began lifting it off the boat, staging it on the pier. All that’s left now is to clean up my stateroom, pack up all my stuff, and head on home. This cruise has been both a great scientific and personal learning experience and I am happy to have worked with these crewmembers, techs, researchers, and students. The lab seems so empty now, as I write this post, and there’s a part of me that is sad that this adventure is ending regardless of how excited I am to get back to life on land.
Anyways, time for me to go. For those who are interested in the data we’ve collected on this cruise, look out for information concerning workshops on data access and processing in the near future.
Signing off,Dylan Meyer aboard the R/V Endeavor
Figure 1. Evening recovery of the last OBS, there was much rejoicing!
Figure 2. A crewmember, Charlie Bean, tossing a leading line with a monkey fist to the dock.
Figure 3. The WHOI OBS van and SIO OBSs staged on the pier to be loaded onto trucks.
Figure 4. The WHOI OBS van being loaded onto a truck for transit back to Woods Hole.
Figure 5. The, now empty, lab deck of the R/V Endeavor.
What if you couldn’t smell smoke?
Or detect flirty signs from a bloke?
Imagine the cost
Of faculties lost,
Of signals that deafness would cloak …
On reefs, it’s chemical cues
That life-forms will commonly use;
With acid on rise,
A fatal surprise:
What senses might reef-critters lose?
This is one in a series of poems written by Katherine Allen, a researcher in geochemistry and paleoclimate at the Lamont-Doherty Earth Observatory and the Institute of Marine and Coastal Sciences at Rutgers University.
Time series of deployment and recovery. Photo Credit: Ernie Aaron.~ErnieR/V Endeavor
On calm days, you could almost forget that you are in the middle of the ocean. Its sunny and calm outside, and everything is stable inside. People get lax and leave cups and other items on table tops unsecured and unattended. And then some big swells come, and we all remember why chairs are tied to tables, furniture is nailed down to the deck and we use bungie cords and sticky pads to keep computers and other gear in place. Today we are experiencing swells up to 5 m high, in which the ship has rolled up to 25 degrees. Unsecured items (including people in chairs!) are rolling all over the lab. Meanwhile, we are also crossing the Gulf Steam, which poses it own challenges to our gear. Fishermen are particularly concentrated here, and today we deviated 10 km off of our profile to avoid fishermen and their gear. The currents are also pushing our seismic streamer around. In the ideal case, the streamer extends straight behind the vessel and quietly rides 9 meters below the water surface. The currents today have pushed it to the side by 70 degrees from the ideal track, and the swells generate noise on the hydrophones. However, even though conditions may not be ideal, it is essential that we collect data here for our science goals. We think that there are thick accumulations of frozen magmas beneath the Earth’s surface here that formed when the supercontinent of Pangea broke apart to form the Atlantic Ocean. So we shall push ahead!Annotated screen capture from our navigation system showing the ship, the streamer, our intended profile and our deviation.
Donna Shillington from the R/V Langseth
It takes a team of people to get the OBS in the water and back out again. To illustrate the process of deploying a WHOI or SIO OBS, Gary Linkevich has created a time lapse video. The first part of the video captures two WHOI OBS deployments with Peter, Dave, Dylan, Gary, and Kate. The WHOI OBS are the peanut shaped yellow capsules that appear in the background next to the railing. After the WHOI OBS is in the water, we capture an SIO OBS deployment with Mark, Dylan, Gary and Kate. The SIO OBS are the rectangles with a yellow top and white base. Right after we deploy the SIO OBS, we start putting together a new one for deployment. The assembly process involves an instrument test and then attachment of the metal weight, floatation devices, light, and radio together. The deployment of this SIO OBS happened during the midnight crew shift which includes Ernie, Pamela, Afshin and Jenny. Once they pick her up and put her in, they start the assembly process all over again!
Thanks Gary for putting together this time lapse!
See you Later,
Kate Volk aboard the R/V Endeavor
One of our assistant engineer, Kurt Rethorn, gave us a tour of the engine room. Here's what we learned:
Kurt is an awesome tour guide!
The EngineThe R/V Endeavor is equipped with a two-stroke (providing more power strokes per engine rpm), diesel engine consisting of 16, 350-cubic inch, cylinders with a maximum output of 3050 horsepower. Also, this bad boy is outfitted with a turbo charger which uses the exhaust to increase pressure in the cylinders and improve the power output from the combustion stroke. The engine is kept lubricated by 500 gallons of motor oil, which is changed when the ship is in port based on the number of engine hours. We burn around 1,000 gallons of fuel a day while on station (between the generators and the main engine) and even more when we are in transit between sites. We left port with around 54,000 gallons of fuel stored beneath the berthing decks, but she can hold up to 56,000 gallons of fuel total (the additional space is left to allow for the expansion of fuel due to temperature changes). A fun fact about the R/V Endeavor is that the propeller only spins one direction, meaning that there is no reverse gear. In order to drive the ship in reverse, the pitch of the propeller blades is switched such that the flow of water is reversed. There is also a powerful bow thruster that can be engaged if necessary.
Kurt starting off the tour (Photo credit: Kate Volk)The engine with the exhaust manifold above and access to each of the piston heads underneath the latched doors (Photo credit: Kate Volk)Fuel gauges. Fuel is consumed from both tanks at a relatively similar rate in order to keep the boat properly balanced (Photo credit: Kate Volk) The GeneratorsThe R/V Endeavor has four generators. Three below the water line and one above (for emergencies only). The generators produce all our electricity directly (i.e. they do not charge any batteries). In a power failure, an emergency generator will kick on in less than a minute.
These are two of the generators, aligned along the centerline of the ship (Photo credit: Kate Volk) WaterWe use about 1000 gallons of water a day between showering, cooking, cleaning, and drinking and the ship can only hold approximately 8600 gallons of fresh water. Therefore, we must produce fresh water throughout the cruise and we have two methods of achieving that. We have a reverse osmosis machine, which takes up salt water and pushes it through a long, blue semi-permeable membrane at 800 psi. The high pressure in the membrane causes the salt to drop out of solution producing fresh water. The second way we have of producing water is an evaporator. This brings in salt water under a vacuum at 711 mmHg (13.75 psi). The water is heated up and the condensation is collected, now free of salt. The reverse osmosis machine and evaporator can produce around 50 and 80 gallons of water per hour, respectively, so that we can theoretically make 3200 gallons of water everyday. However, the evaporative method is dependent upon the engine heat to turn the water into vapor, which means that it runs at a lower efficiency when the engine is cooler.
Reverse Osmosis machine. You can see the blue membranes that separates the salt and water (Photo credit: Kate Volk)
Water quality (Photo credit: Kate Volk)Sea water temperatures in the Gulf Stream are pretty warm (Photo credit: Kate Volk)
See you later,
Dylan Meyer and Kate Volk aboard the R/V Endeavor
September 30th, 2014:1437
We have our first look at data!! Ernie Aaron merged some of the raw data from the Scripps OBSs with navigation files from the R/V Marcus Langseth such that we can start seeing the seismic waves recorded in the in ENAM project. In Figure 1, the hydrophone record of OBS 209, which was recovered on Sept. 21st, is shown as a function of space and time. To be clear, this is original seismic data. There are still post-processing methods and inversions to apply to the data back on shore that will help extract the seismic velocity structure down to upper mantle boundary along Line 2 or any of the other seismic lines. Until then, however, here is what we learned thus far.
To remind all, the experimental setup for this study is as follows. We on the R/V Endeavorplaced OBSs on the seafloor at a spacing of approximately 15 km along Line 2. The R/V Langseth then cruised along Line 2 from ESE to WNW with airgun shots spaced every 200 meters. The OBSs were then recovered and the hydrophone and geophone data were downloaded.
Figure 1. Traces recorded from OBS 209 (bottom) with various arrivals identified by color. The dashed line shows the multiple of Slope D. Cartoon (top) shows representative raypaths of seismic waves that produced the arrivals indicated in the trace records (Figure Credit: Kate Volk). The acoustic signal was then segmented into separate traces using the GPS-coordinated time of each shot. Ten seconds of each trace were then plotted, by shot number (Figure 1). In this data panel we see the direct wave from the R/V Langseth shots to the instrument (Figure 1; Slope B), seismic reflections and refractions from the Earth below (Figure 1; Slopes A, C, and D), and a later multiple of these seismic refractions (Figure 1; dashed magenta line), after they bounced between the seafloor and sea surface.
The direct wave travels directly from the seismic source to the OBS, helping us identify the location of the OBS on the seismic line. Using the time it took for the direct arrival to reach the OBS at this location and the acoustic velocity of water (1500 m/s), we can estimate the depth to the OBS. In the case of OBS 209, the R/V Langseth traveled over the device around shot 2200 and it was deployed in approximately 3000 meters of water (Figure 1).
The general slope of the seismic refractions in the space-time diagram gives an indication of the speed at which these seismic waves travelled at large depth. The data in Figure 1 have been plotted such that waves traveling with a seismic velocity of 7000 m/s, such as those turning near the crust-mantle boundary, will appear as flat events. Slower seismic waves will dip towards larger time away from the OBS, while faster waves will slope towards smaller travel times.
The OBSs show seismic arrivals that are recorded over a very wide range of source-receiver distances. The seismic waves recorded close to the instrument (< 10 km), are the direct wave from the airguns through the water column to the instrument (Figure 1; Time 2). As you move farther from the instrument (longer offset from source to OBS), the seismic waves move through deeper materials with faster acoustic velocities and those waves reach the instrument before the direct waves (Figure 1; Times 1 and 3). At longer offsets, the primary response comes from seismic waves that travel along deep materials with very fast seismic velocities (Figure 1; Time 4). When combining all the traces together, the slope between similar acoustic responses in traces can be used to infer the seismic velocity of the seismic wave, which can be used to infer the properties of the Earth.
For example, between 60 – 80 km and 100 – 120 km, we identify acoustic responses that are relatively flat (Figure 1; Slope D), indicating that the sound wave is moving through material with an acoustic velocity of 7000 m/s. This is important because it confirms that we are imaging down to the crust-mantle boundary, which will allow us to get a well-constrained seismic velocity profile throughout the crust beneath the margin of the US East Coast.
Until next time,Dylan Meyer aboard the R/V Endeavor
Tropical mountain ranges erode quickly, as heavy year-round rains feed raging rivers and trigger huge, fast-moving landslides. Rapid erosion produces rugged terrain, with steep rivers running through deep valleys. However, in a number of tropical mountain ranges, landscapes with deep, steep valleys transition quickly into landscapes with low-sloping streams and gentle slopes at high elevations. This topographic contrast between high and low elevations poses a problem for geologists. Though heavy rains fall throughout the mountain range, erosion seems to sculpt parts of the mountain differently from others.
Mount Chirripó, Costa Rica’s highest peak, bears exactly this type of terrain, with flat valleys at high elevation capping rugged valleys below. The beveled summit of Mount Chirripó bears striking resemblance to summits as far away as Taiwan, Papua New Guinea and Uganda. Some geologists think that tectonic forces deep below earth’s surface pushed Chirripó into its flat-topped form about 2.5 million years ago. Others think glaciers did the work, sculpting the peak in over hundreds of thousands of years.
Max Cunningham, a graduate student at Columbia University’s Lamont-Doherty Earth Observatory, traveled to Chirripó this past summer to test the idea that mountain glaciers carved the summit we see today. Working with his adviser Colin Stark, a geomorphologist, and Michael Kaplan, a geochemist, both at Lamont-Doherty, Cunningham chiseled away samples of glacial debris to take home for analysis. The researchers hope to eventually pin down when the high-elevation valleys capping Mount Chirripó’s summit eroded into their current form. Read more about their work in the above slideshow.
Photos by Max Cunningham unless otherwise credited.
It was nearing time to launch the next expendable bathythermograph probe, or XBT. The software was readied and two scientists headed out of the lab, radio in hand. They donned lifejackets that had once been bright orange but were now closer to a dull rust color from long and dirty use on the deck and selected a T-5 probe from the box.
Out on the deck they were alone, perched partway up the stack of levels in the stern of the ship, the gun deck below them and the paravane deck above. It seemed that the others working the graveyard shift were all inside, perhaps wrestling with some mechanical puzzle or else simply keeping watch to make sure all was well, sipping strong coffee, playing cards to pass the time. The scientists snapped the probe into the gun-shaped launcher. They removed the plastic end cap from the black cylinder that housed the probe and its spool of fine copper wire.
“We’re in position.”
There was a pause, then the radio crackled back, “Launch probe.”
In a moment the probe was sliding down the long tube that extended out and downward from the starboard side. With a small splash it plunged from the end of the tube into the inky deep. Now to wait while it made its journey towards the bottom, more than 4000 meters below. Despite the very late (or very early, depending on your point of view) hour, it was warm. The air was muggy – not exactly a welcome change from the air-conditioned lab, although the tinge of diesel fumes was less out here in the relative open. There was little wind and the seas were calm. Standing on the moving island of light that was the ship the sea quickly disappeared into the surrounding void. What surface that could be seen appeared to rise disturbingly close up alongside them, like a churning wall of water. It was only visible at all by the few swirls of foam formed by the ship’s passage and a reflection here and there off the constantly moving face of the black oily-looking water. They waited for the go ahead to terminate the probe.
Down in the lab, there was a strange blip on the screen showing the multibeam bathymetry data, but no one noticed as they were too busy entering in location data for the XBT or scrutinizing the movement of the streamer birds that regulated the depth of the hydrophone streamer. There were, after all, 36 other monitor screens to watch.
Outside there was a louder than usual splash. The two scientists peered into the gloom.
“Dolphin?” one wondered out loud.
“While we’re shooting? I hope not,” the other replied, “We’ll end up having to interrupt the line.”
Was there something just under the water surface? A pale sinuous shape at the very edge of the ship’s halo of light? No, it must be a trick of the light and the weird perspective engendered by the lack of any sense of distance. Perhaps more coffee was in order when they got back inside.
The radio crackled again, “Terminate probe.”
The scientists broke the wire that was still spooling out to the probe that was now falling behind them. “Probe terminated,” they reported. They were just turning to leave when it emerged.
At first it looked like a whale back, though pale milky green in color rather than the expected grey. As it lifted free from the surface it became clear that it was much longer than an orca or even a grey whale, more like an ancient marble column turned soft and rubbery. It tapered as more of its length was exposed until the tip broke free of the clinging water. One side of the enormous snake-like shape was covered with round suckers the size of dinner plates in a poisonous green color. The cyclopean tentacle towered out of the water, waving gently with a sickening sort of grace ten meters or more above the uppermost deck. Here and there along its length were clots of a coppery tangled substance, almost like seaweed wrapped around it. “The XBT wire,” one of the scientists realized from the midst of her fascinated horror.
The tentacle hovered for another movement before swooping down with surprising swiftness. The two scientists were neatly plucked from the ship in the blink of an eye. With a clatter, the radio fell to the deck. They were held above the water for a long moment, crushed together so tightly they couldn’t speak and could barely draw breath. Then, slowly, the tentacle disappeared beneath the smoothly rolling waves.
Two hundred and sixty-seven shots until the next XBT.
-by Tanya Blacic aboard the R/V Langseth (with a wink to H. P. Lovecraft)
Our small ship is in a state of endless motion with pitch, roll, yaw, and heave. We continuously experience a feeling of fluctuating gravity at sea, as one minute we are several pounds heavier and the next we are several pounds less. We’re tossed about endlessly like riders at the fair. It’s a feeling that can turn the stomach of the saltiest of sailors, but more often disturbs the newbies the most. At sea there is also no such thing as silence. Out here the engines are always running, hydraulic pumps are always droning, and ships operations occur around the clock. From my bunk I can feel us lurch forward and lean into a turn to starboard, or port, and then they reverse the pitch of the propeller as if applying an emergency brake to slow the ships forward motion. This reverse pitch causes a shudder in the hull that shakes us like a cheap hotel vibrating bed and it chatters every moveable thing. From my bunk I can also hear the acoustic pings emanating from the hull-mounted transducers. Speaking to me in code, they tell me if OBS operations are going well. Based on the ping styles I can also discern the acoustic techniques used by WHOI and Scripps, so that I know which instrument type is being talked to. All of this information creates a movie in my mind that plays out until I fall asleep. Life on a ship is a constant immersion in all that is going on and for 30-days there will be no escape.
It’s been a week since we deployed all of our gear and started steaming along our lines, so now we have amassed a lot of data! Although we can only steam at very low speeds while towing the equipment (~4.5 nautical miles an hour or ~5 mph), each time we fire the air gun array, the 636 channels on the seismic streamer listen for returning sound waves for 18 seconds and record a total ~25 Mb of data. Repeat that every 30 seconds for 7 days, and it begins to add up! We now have 400 Gb of seismic data alone, not including all of the other types of data we collect while underway (bathymetry, magnetics, gravity). We are a data-collecting machine.
Matt, Jenna and Derek sit back and watch the data roll in from the Main Lab
Not only are we collecting data, we are also doing some preliminary data analysis to get a first look at the geology hidden below the ocean, which is always exciting.
Kara and Matt are entranced by velocity analysisAlthough we are only a week in, our data collection has already taken us through water depths as shallow as 20 m and as deep as 6000 m. At the edge of the continental shelf, water depths change rapidly from ~500 to ~3000 m over just 20 km – a slope of 10%. For perspective, that’s very similar in elevation change and slope to the course for the Pikes Peak marathon.
Perspective view of seafloor depth from MGDS across the continental slope overlain by a higher resolution swath of bathymetric data that we acquired along our transect, which is also shown projected onto the seafloor. We have also traveled over widely variable geology – from 35-km-thick continental crust to ~7-km-thick oceanic crust, and from sediment thicknesses of 5 m to over 7 km. Our data are also revealing cool structures in the sediments and crust – faults, sediment waves, and more. Below is a picture of a salt diapir that we imaged at the edge of the continental margin. The salt was probably first deposited at least 150 millions years ago in a flat layer, but as more sediments were deposited on top of it, it got squeezed up and out into dramatic diapirs.
Preliminary image of a salt diapir in seismic reflection data near the base of the continental slope. The y-axis shows the time it takes for a sound wave to travel down in the earth and back again. This images shows about ~5 km down into the earth below the seafloor. Donna Shillington aboard the R/V Langseth