A collection of thoughts, science, and everything Arctic.
The 3m Plumb Staff Beam Trawl was deployed at 7 stations during Leg 1 and at 21 stations during Leg 2 (as of September 7). Benthic invertebrates dominated the catches. Overall we caught 199 individual taxa and 737 kg of invertebrates. In contrast, we caught 36 individual taxa and 4.8 kg of fish.
My name is Ed Farley, and I work with the Alaska Fisheries Science Center (AFSC) at the Ted Stevens Marine Research Institute in Juneau, Alaska. I am the Chief Scientist for the second leg of the Arctic Integrated Ecosystem Survey. We are in the northern Chukchi Sea taking measurements of the physical oceanography, biological oceanography and fishes and documenting observations of seabirds and mammals in the region of the northern Chukchi Sea.
Beam Trawls…So how do they work?
With a 3-meter iron rod (beam) holding open the net, the beam trawl is deployed off the stern at each station. Two floats keep the trawl from sinking too far down while two sensors measure depth, temperature (microbathy thermograph) and how much it accelerates through the water (bottom contact sensor). Those sensors help calculate the area of the benthic region covered in square kilometers along with the amount of biomass of fish and invertebrates caught.
TaGiuq , also known as “the ocean” in Inupiaq, greeted us with an energetic welcoming. It’s a good thing I’m on a boat with a great bunch of people! Our journey to the northern Chukchi Sea started with anticipation as we departed from Nome on Friday, August 25th. We knew we were going towards a storm, so preparations were made, individually and ship-wise. I bought anti-sickness medication last minute, and I was thankful that I did. By Saturday, August 26th, we were on a continuous roll that would last until Monday or Tuesday.
Bright eyed and jet-lagged, I walked out of the plane into Nome, awoken to rain and wind bringing in the salty sea air. Currently from the Tri-cities, the eastern Washington desert environment, it was refreshing to be enveloped by rain. Mixed emotions ran through my mind: excitement for the upcoming adventure, nostalgia for the ocean, and an eerie sense of deja vu. Except for the sloping mountains in the distance and tall willows, this coastal city is familiar to my own hometown (Utqiagvik, formerly known as Barrow) growing up in Alaska. I flew into Nome as many others had that day and realized I had flown to a place where I never really knew anybody, yet it was very familiar, like home.
On station! With anticipation I pull on my Grunden’s bibs and float coat for the last time of Leg 1 at the last station of the Point Hope transect line. For most of us on board, this is the last science day of our sea time as we begin our 30-hour transit back to Nome to disembark on the 24th.
Twenty-four days on a research cruise may seem daunting at first, but when you take it one day at a time, the time moves by with ease. So what does a normal day look like on the R/V Ocean Starr? Well, it starts pretty early.
1… 2… 3… Haul-back. The radio clicks off and the winch on deck starts to run again. Soon the net will be on deck and sorting will commence.
The excitement was mounting in the fish lab as everyone slid into their Grundens bibs and put on float coats and hard hats. We peered out the doors to the deck and saw the beam trawl floating a few meters away from the boat.
Where are we? When you spend most of your day inside the vessel cabin or in the lab you don’t really have concept of place. Even when I look out on deck, I find the usual endless horizon of the sea. No land in sight, but we are north of the Arctic circle now, heading up to the Beaufort Sea.
Full steam ahead to Nome! Well, full steam is only about 8 or 9 knots with the rough weather of the Bering Sea and a loaded down boat, so we should make it to Nome by the evening on August 4th. This arrival date gives us all time to prepare the equipment and plan for the busy days ahead.
“Low visibility in Dutch Harbor, we are now on a weather hold. Standby for an update in 30 minutes....”
You could hear groans and complaints coming from passengers throughout the gate area as the intercom clicked off.
“I am learning all of this so one day we can do the same things and understand our waters. So I can teach science to the children of Diomede.” She then began describing to me how important it was to report back that the little things in the water column like copepods and phytoplankton are critical to the ecosystem and the food they fish for on Diomede. All was said with such sincerity and concern. I could feel her deep connection with Bering Strait and the northern Bering Sea in that moment. I could feel that this journey on RV Sikuliaq may mean more to her than anyone else on the ship.
Eighteen days we have been on the R/V Sikuliaq - four more days to go 'til we get back to Nome. So far we have completed 17 bottom trawls and 15 midwater trawls. I am on the fish team, investigating the number and distribution of fish and invertebrates during our 21-day ASGARD cruise.
Many people think of Northern Fulmars as the marine equivalent of pigeons—flying rats. I used to think that too, when I worked as a fisheries observer aboard large commercial fishing boats in the Bering Sea. Hundreds of fulmars would follow us in hopes of getting a free meal. Even though they are not the only species to follow boats, they are often singled out for criticism, maybe because they are rather homely in comparison to birds like kittiwakes and shearwaters.
On any boat, there is an unspoken trust. It is not earned or rewarded, but expected. It can be taken away… stripped and torn down by trepidation, sloth, and distraction. On any boat, trust is yours to lose.
Looking down at my mud encrusted, dry, tired hands and mud covered clothes I see the unmistakable marks of being part of the benthic team. No amount of soap or lotion has seemed to rid me entirely of the remnants of a day outside on the deck spent bringing up multi-core tubes full of mud from the floor of the Chukchi Sea and the hours of processing that follow.
“Where do you live?” This is one of the first questions people will ask you when you board a research vessel. This question is so common because researchers with different backgrounds and from different universities collaborate on projects, each bringing their own technicians and students.
Over the past couple of days, R/V Sikuliaq has been beating into a southerly swell. Gusting winds upwards of 30 knots have stirred surface waters, forming white caps, churning the upper meters of water, and mixing temperature and salinity profiles in the greater Kotzebue Sound area.
A Brittany Jones sighting on the boat can be rare. She exists, I promise, but her experiment and dedication to her work have unintentionally positioned her from the rest of the scientists that share common space for sediment and fisheries work.
With seas calming from 15 feet and winds dissipating to five knots, the Chukchi Sea has once again given R/V Sikuliaq a brief respite from weather. Even though conditions were less than ideal during that time, operations still continued. CTD deployments were cast from midships, and a few multi-cores were deployed off the stern of the ship with the A-Frame. During these times, I take to filming the skies and attempt some aerial footage of the ship in action—its blue hull and white house juxtaposed against the steel gray ocean of the Chukchi. For the majority of our sampling and transit, R/V Sikuliaq has been the only focal point interrupting a horizon that blends into neutral sky and fog.
