Northeast Pacific Ocean | 46.06° N, 130.00° W | June 22, 2024
When I walk into the computer lab, a peculiar tension radiates around the room. The atmosphere in here is usually relaxed: members of our science team telling stories, cracking jokes, or peering at 3D maps of Axial Seamount.
But right now, there is no laughter or excitement. Expedition Leader Akel Kevis-Stirling sits directly across from Chief Scientist Bill Chadwick, explaining that the ROV winch has a critical issue. If the winch cannot operate properly, we cannot launch the ROV. If we cannot launch the ROV, we will be unable to conduct the science operations we came out here (300 miles off the coast of Oregon) to do.
Dealing with equipment issues is part of going to sea. We utilize a lot of sophisticated tools, technology, and hardware – things are bound to break or malfunction. But teams that regularly work on research vessels are resilient and adaptable. We can almost always engineer a solution to whatever problem we encounter on board.
Not this time.
In order to effectively (and safely) replace the faulty mechanism in the winch, we will have to return to port.
Bill asks Akel a few questions. Jeff Beeson listens intently, his brow deeply furrowed. Akel lays out the facts. Bill’s response is calm and measured. These men are experienced seafarers, and even in the face of very bad news, they appear poised and professional.
But it’s a demoralizing blow. This expedition is already a short one, with just nine days scheduled for science operations. Now we are losing three of those days.
Expedition Leader Akel Kevis-Sterling examines ROV Jason on the aft deck of R/V Atlantis.
Tough times call for exceptional leadership. I am pleasantly surprised to see how Bill accepts this turn of events and methodically moves forward. I have worked with some chief scientists who would react very differently to this kind of news.
Other members of our team demonstrate a similar level-headed coolness. As we make our way back towards Astoria, I sit with Dax Soule in the mess. I ask if he’s planning to disembark when we’re in port. Because our operational time is now so compressed, we may not be able to deploy his instruments. While Bill gave him the option to head back home, Dax says he is planning to stay on board. Even if his instrumentation doesn’t make it to the seafloor, he still wants to be a part of the operation. As we chat, he puts the whole expedition and its goals into perspective.
“We’re going to a volcano in the deep ocean, and we’re going to send a robot down and tell it where to go,” Dax says, his eyes wide with wonder. “You’re telling me I could be a part of that? Or I could go home and mow my lawn.”
Fortunately, the unplanned port call goes as efficiently as possible. Exactly 26 hours after pulling into Astoria, we head back out to sea.
To make up for lost time, Bill comes up with an ambitious plan. Instead of conducting multiple ROV dives, we will do just one “monster” dive. We will put the ROV in the water and operate continuously for five days straight.
I don’t voice my doubts out loud, but inwardly I am sure this plan won’t come to fruition. Remotely operated vehicles contain hundreds of complex components – the probability that all of them will function flawlessly for over 100 hours straight seems slim to none.
The more I think about it, the more ludicrous the idea seems. In order for this plan to work, everything – the ROV, the weather, the ship, and all personnel on board – will have to perform perfectly. Surely this isn’t possible.
But when you’re working on a ship like Atlantis, “impossible” is not a word you hear very often.
____
During my first expedition aboard Atlantis, one of the first things that caught my eye was a bold, black sticker on the door of the bosun’s locker.
Those who say it cannot be done shouldn’t interrupt the people doing it.
As I walk by it again now, my skepticism dissipates. I’m reminded that we’re working on one of the most highly esteemed and accomplished research vessels in the world. Perhaps we can pull off this seemingly impossible task.
____
Shortly after 2am, a light rain sprinkles the back deck. I’m standing near the aft port railing, adjusting my hard hat and attempting to shield my camera from the precipitation. I’m grateful Akel gave me permission to document the launch from this location — as the lights of the ROV blaze to life, I begin filming.
The voice of Captain Derek Bergeon crackles over the radio. You are go for launch. With that, the 11,000-pound ROV rises up off the deck.
After such a delayed start, it’s a relief to see the launch go smoothly. Jason slowly glides into the water while the crew methodically doles out the tether line and buoys. I continue filming until the ROV lights dissolve into the depths, then make my way to the Control Van.
Even though it’s nearing 3am, the van is packed with people. In addition to the standard watch team, several members of the science team watch, wide-eyed, from the back row as the ROV cameras focus on the seafloor. A few minutes later we encounter evidence of the volcanism we came here to study: hydrothermal vents.
These unique geothermal features evoke imagery of the underworld, rising up from the seafloor to release a steady stream of super-heated water saturated with dissolved minerals from within the ocean crust. Fittingly, this first vent is named “Inferno” (and our next stop is “Hell”).
Our first task is to deploy a temperature probe for Dax. Thanks to Bill’s magical ability to compress all of our scientific objectives into five days, we did not have to forfeit Dax’s instrumentation, and he is thrilled.
Despite the odds being stacked against us, we are off to a good start.
______
Three days later, I walk into the hallway on the main deck and see Bill waving a piece of paper fresh from the printer.
“Want to see the latest semi-brilliant plan?”
“Brilliant, huh?” I say, with raised eyebrows. “That’s quite the claim.”
“Semi-brilliant,” Bill says, grinning.
It’s always special to document scientists working hard in the field, but it’s even more special to see them giddy and joyful – a sure sign that things are going well.
And indeed they are. The ROV has been operating consistently for over 70 hours. The weather has remained calm. Every member of the team is working diligently.
I don’t remark on our good fortune though, and neither does anyone else. Nobody wants to jinx it.
Chief Scientists Bill Chadwick and Akel Kevis-Stirling stare at the footage from ROV Jason displayed on the large monitors in the Control Van.
The following evening, Bill and I sit down in the library. When I adjust the lavalier microphone attached to his shirt collar, I can see he is tired. Having documented many chief scientists working around the clock, I’m always amazed by the multitude of questions and demands they receive on a daily basis — especially during an expedition that involves cramming so much science into such a short amount of time.
Bill is on point though. As soon as the camera starts rolling, he responds to my questions with acuity and enthusiasm.
At the end of the interview, I ask him about his chosen profession. “Why have you dedicated your life to studying volcanoes?”
“First of all, volcanoes are awesome,” he says. A shy grin spreads across his face. “It’s like… the earth… being incredible.”
We both erupt into a fit of laughter. The longer I work alongside Bill, the more clearly I see the key to his success: he doesn’t take himself too seriously. It is such a refreshing character trait.
—-
As we near the end of the expedition, the laughter seems to become more and more frequent. After interviewing Haley Cabanis and Scott Nooner, I create a blooper reel and we watch it again and again, giggling every single time.
When I’m not filming, I’m editing. The short duration of this expedition not only puts pressure on our science operations — it greatly diminishes my production timeline. In just over 48 hours, I edit together a three-minute expedition overview video, a blooper reel, and a drone highlights reel.
On the second-to-last day, I walk into the computer lab to film Jeff working on a 3D rendering of Axial Seamount. It’s hard to believe that just a week ago I walked into this room and the mood felt palpably tense.
Now it’s the opposite. Jeff embraces his inner nerd as I film him. “Would you like to see a 3D rendering of Axial? I need my nerd glasses!”
Valentine Puzenat immediately hands Jeff her thick glasses, and he puts them on. The laughter begins again and doesn’t stop.
Jeff Beeson gives us his best nerd look.
The next evening, we gather in the library for our final science team meeting. Bill stands up to address the group. “The last time we were in this room, we had just received some really bad news, and we were on our way back to port,” he says. “Our future and what we might be able to accomplish out here was very uncertain, but we persevered. And I’m extremely proud of what we were able to pull off.”
I see several heads nodding in agreement and I feel proud to be part of such a hard-working, resilient team. Bill covers some highlights of our data collection, runs through port logistics, and opens the floor for comments from others. At the conclusion of the meeting, we turn down the lights and I press play on my video. I still can’t believe I pulled it together — with three different interviews, two drone flights, and dozens of hours of filming — as quickly as I did.
At the conclusion of the meeting, many people compliment my work. The official video, the drone footage, and the blooper reel - they are all hits. But the best compliment comes from Bill.
“It’s not just that it’s a good video,” he says. “It’s how quickly you produced the thing. It looks like you spent a month editing it.”
I smile and shake Bill’s hand. It’s not typical for a chief scientist to prioritize and appreciate my work as much as he has over the past week — especially with so much else at stake. But Bill epitomizes the innate, dogged perseverance that I’ve come to associate with R/V Atlantis:
those who say it cannot be done shouldn’t interrupt the people doing it.
To learn more about our expedition at Axial Seamount, check out Measuring the Might of Axial.