During our training we had the opportunity to do one night dive in a lagoon area, but unfortunately, the visibility on that dive was minimal…and the view not particularly noteworthy. Our first night dive from Aquarius was quite the contrast.
Preparation for the dive was the same, with the addition of a second flashlight. Exiting the wet porch in the now familiar area surrounding the habitat began a very different dive. The lights of the habitat provided a bluish glow into the water.
As we swam along the excursion line with our flashlights lighting only small cones along our path, Emma spotted 2 squids in their flutter and glide flight below us. As soon as they figured out they had company though, they literally squirted away leaving only a faint inky farewell.
Next we decided to just sit on the sand and see what would come to us. Garrett spotted a scorpion fish when the fish broke his cover and decided to move…not 3 feet from us. While he was not moving, it was difficult to convince yourself that the rocky-looking blob with what looked like some kind of soft pinkish coral growing on it was really a fish. But then he reached out from under his “body” with his fins and hopped to a new location, returning quickly to the camouflaged state.
After shutting off our flashlights, we got to see the most amazing sight. As our eyes adjusted to the darkness, we saw fireflies on the sand and floating through the water. These water-born fireflies use the same chemical reactions as the airborne fireflies I’m more accustomed to seeing. However, these would also light up just with the wave of a fin or even my hand through the water.
Later, back at the habitat, we explored the exterior of our home. You might think this would not be of particular interest, and it surprised me how much different it looked in the darkness, with only the lights of the habitat and our flashlights. Corals, both soft and hard, of a multitude of reds, oranges, and pinks were visible that during the day in our 60 foot filtered light were only present as browns. My favorites were the brilliant orange anemones that swayed fine-filigreed fingers in the current and retracted into something that looked like a cluster of flower buds when disturbed. I hadn’t really appreciated the garden of our habitat until seeing it in its true colors.
I’m looking forward to the next night dive!
It’s Sunday down here in the Aquarius Habitat. A leisurely day for reflection…not too much on the timeline. We’ll try to get our acoustic (hearing test) measurement experiment going again for some valid data, and we’re continuing our blood sample (ouch!) and body fluids collection for our nutrional science experiment. Also, today’s the day for our lone private family conference or PFC (hey, this is NASA…gotta have those acronyms!).
I’m back relaxing in my bunk…enjoying some more music on my CD player, typing this journal and enjoying the view from the bunkroom viewport (that’s the window!), much like I imagine a Sunday on the shuttle or station might be. This time I’m listening to an artist from my home state of Nebraska. I was introduced to this music by a friend of mine from the planetarium and natural history museum at the University of Nebraska, Jack Dunn.
As I listen, sneaking glances out the viewport as I type, I have been thinking of an e-mail note I received yesterday from a high school classmate back in Ashland, Nebraska. Amy Hiatt Angelos and I grew up a mere block apart in this quiet town of about 2000. We attended school together and participated in music, drama, concert band, speech competitions, you name it. And we had a blast! Yet over the years since we graduated, we had grown apart as our lives took separate directions.
Well, recently I returned to my home town for my 25th class reunion. Having not attended any of the previous reunions for one reason or another, I wasn’t quite sure what to expect. Amy and about 40 of our classmates (a grand turnout considering our class size was only 72 students!) were there. It was truly enjoyable…I was so glad that I made the effort to be there. We had changed so much, yet so little. We had so many memories and stories to tell. It was grand. And I am so pleased to be in contact again with so many of my Nebraska friends.
I wear my Nebraska heritage proudly. I am a “Husker!” Though people will often say “…but you didn’t go to school at the university did you?” In Nebraska, you don’t have to. If you are born and raised there as I was, I believe you feel a strong bond to the state, its people and what they stand for. From Chadron to Nebraska City, from Niobrara to Red Cloud, small town life is good. The people are hard-working and full of good character, honesty, friendship and morality. They truly reflect positive mid-western values. The people that I grew up with, those that helped to raise and mentor me, they have shaped who I am and helped enable me to live my dream. Yep, there is no place like Nebraska!
Well, it’s almost time for my private family conference…I can’t wait!
20,000mm Under the Sea – Chapter 5
The Rise and Fall of Waterlab
This morning marked the triumphant completion and tragic demise of “Waterlab.” This structure, built as a training exercise to simulate space station construction during a spacewalk, is not really a lab. In fact, it’s not really anything at all, just a grown-up version of playing with building blocks.
We loved it.
We worked really hard at it, building it in record time, ahead of schedule and under budget. When completed, it was a wonder to behold. One might compare it to the Empire State Building, the Hoover Dam, Mt. Rushmore, or a big fat pile of junk.
Overflowing with joy, we adorned our monument to engineering excellence with flags from each of our home states, our new home state of Texas, and The United States of America. We wanted to hang the local Key Largo Elementary School flag on it, but the kids took one look at “Waterlab” and said, “You gotta be kiddin’ me.” and thus, declined.
Undeterred, we proudly shot still photographs and video of our creation. Management (Clay) was similarly ecstatic with our results, but had a small request; could we rotate “Waterlab” so that the web-cameras could get a better shot?
Eager to comply, with careful preparation and planning like an artist attempting to “touch-up” the Mona Lisa, we began the operation. That’s when things went horribly, horribly wrong.
She began to list to port. Frantically the crew fought to save the stricken vessel. Dumping all the air out of our inflatable vests and kicking downward with all our might, we spared no effort to right the crippled structure. With support beams buckling and trusses twisting out of position, “Waterlab” was doomed. All we could do was cry “timber!” as she hit the bottom.
Oh, the humanity. Oh, the humanity.
“Waterlab” lie on the sea floor in ruins.
Yet another reminder of engineering hubris, this would have been a terrible tragedy except for one thing. The next task on our timeline was – “Waterlab Tear-Down.”
It took at least 10 minutes for us to stop laughing.
Astronaut Science Elective 101
One of the most spaceflight-like parts of our undersea mission on the Aquarius Habitat is our compliment of science experiments. As we execute the various procedures and protocols I think back to my junior high school days in Ashland, Nebraska when I was first exposed to the “scientific method.”
Her name was Alice Raikes, she was my 7th and 8th grade science teacher and one of the most dedicated individuals I have ever met. Through her guidance I developed a clear appreciation for what science is and can be. Now arguably, for the first time in my astronaut career, I am truly participating in securing data that will be beneficial to my fellow astronauts and more importantly, the general populace. It really puts things into perspective.
One of the “protocols” that I am involved with is an experiment involving a technique that uses the Doppler phenomenon. Basically, after each of our scuba dives we don an apparatus designed to measure the flow of nitrogen gas bubbles through our bloodstream. Analysis of our data will help experts determine ways to “head off” decompression sickness and its sometimes fatal effects. In addition, space walking astronauts (like me!) may have new techniques for reducing the amount of time required to pre-breathe oxygen, further reducing risks associated with activities outside the Space Shuttle and Station.
I will also be performing a special simulation exercise with our Mission Science Lead, Dr. Emma Hwang. We will evaluate a portable ultrasound machine and our ability to use it in a remote environment on an (simulated) ill crew member. We will do the job of the ultrasound technician typically found in hospitals, but we don’t have their knowledge. So, we connect remotely to the “expert” back in Houston, as he verbally guides us through the procedure. Once he has seen enough to make his diagnosis, we can take steps to deal with the situation, whether it be medication or, more drastically, evacuation of the vehicle. Think of the applications here…whether on a long-term mission to Mars or in a remote region of the world, tele-medicine is a reality!
Back in Junior High Mrs. Raikes used to have us read a science journal for kids. It had all sorts of cool technology stories that are now reality. Maybe my kids will read about our science someday…one can only hope.
“Riding the Pine”
As exciting as yesterday was for me (and I imagine, the rest of the gang), today is less so. As a result of the cut on my thumb, today I am sort of “riding the pine.”
“Riding the pine” is not a good thing for a person that loves sports. I am that person; I love sports…all sports. From my early days on the sandlots of Nebraska, through high school, college, grad school and beyond, I have played sports and thrived on its competitive aspects. Football, basketball, baseball, softball…sport is one of my life’s passions.
As an athlete, I was drilled over and over again about the importance of team play. “There is no ‘I’ in TEAM…” Coach Simpson would say on the gridiron of Ashland Greenwood High School. “…Football (athletics) is all about sacrifice; it teaches you about life…” is what Hastings College’s Wendell Maupin would roar as he rallied us for the critical game!
I am reminded of those words today, as I remain in the habitat while my crew (team) mates continue their working excursions into the depths on Conch Reef.
In all honesty, today I’m a bit jealous. I want to be out there with them in the worst way. I want to contribute to the mission each and every day. But as my injury and Coach Maupin’s words clearly relate…life isn’t always fair and accommodating. And, as I know far too well from my years of participating in athletics, in life or in sport, one must learn how to deal with adversity (when the goin’ gets tough…oh, you know the rest!).
So, how would I do that some 60 feet beneath the sea? Fortunately for me, there are many ways to measure contributions. Inside the habitat, I have assumed a slightly different role on our team. Much like a starting pitcher who may temporarily be moved to the bullpen to allow him to focus and get “back on track,” I am focusing my efforts inside, while the rest of the team is outside. In this way, I can perform tasks of theirs and have them completed and out of the way by the time they return. Hopefully, this gives them a few precious extra minutes of time to themselves, for relaxing or taking care of whatever they need to do. I think this is what the so-called experts might term “good expeditionary behavior.” I hope so.
Our team has really bonded and it is strong. In the midst of my personal adversity my crewmates have been reassuring, using words, a glance of acknowledgement or a sympathetic touch. They are “keeping me in the game” by showing me I am needed and a key part of the team. That’s what it means to be a part of a crew, a part of a real team.
Put me back in Coach…
