| Welcome to Lindsey Peavey's log from her seaward adventure aboard the NOAA David Star Jordan. If you received our September 2006 e-bulletin, then you're already somewhat familiar with Lindsey's voyage in the Eastern Pacific. She has given us at Pro Peninsula the privilege of posting her exploits on our webpage, and updating them as her reports come in. Read on to learn all about what Lindsey's been up to since she set sail on July 19th of 2006! |
 | Important links:
- NOAA Ship Tracker - Where is Lindsey right now? Click here to find out!.
- STAR 2006 Weekly Reports - Read all the official reports from Lindsey's ship right here!
Log Entries
Exploring the 'Lost Years'
You may think I'm a bit crazy for leaving the familiarity of my cozy desk, computer, office dogs and colleagues at Pro Peninsula to step onto a 174 ft. National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration (NOAA) research vessel with 25 complete strangers to live and work at sea for four months. It definitely had to be a special opportunity for me to stray from the grassroots conservation work in Baja I_ve been dedicated to for several years. It wasn't an easy decision, but those 25 'strangers' aren't merely pirates, they are experts in the fields of marine biology, marine mammal identification and abundance estimation, sea bird observation, oceanography, marine engineering, sea-going sample collection and research techniques, and most interestingly pelagic sea turtle ecology. I couldn't pass up the opportunity to sail and learn from some of the world's best. So, on 29 July, I put on a new Southwest Fisheries Science Center (SWFSC) hat and moved onto the NOAA research vessel, the David Starr Jordan (DSJ), not to return to San Diego until 7 December 2006.
You may gather that from just the few research areas I've mentioned that the 12 scientists onboard have a lot to do out here on the high seas. Well, that is an understatement! The main objective of the Stenella Abundance Research (STAR) project, with surveys in 1998, 2000, 2003 and now 2006, is to investigate trends in dolphin populations that are affected by the purse-seine fishery for yellowfin tuna in the eastern tropical Pacific (a study area equivalent to the continent of Africa!). Two species of dolphins, pantropical spotted dolphin (Stenella attenuata) and spinner dolphin (Stenella longirostris), are specifically targeted by fisheries due to their association with sea bird flocks and large tuna schools. The Stenella dolphin populations crashed in the early 1970's due to the intentional chase and encirclement method of the yellowfin tuna fisheries. The U.S. no longer has fishing fleets in the eastern tropical Pacific (ETP), and the countries that do now have fairly strict restrictions on how, when and how much they can fish in the ETP. The tuna fisheries still use the intentional chase and entanglement method, but have incorporated a few precautionary measures to release dolphins alive once they have successfully trapped the tuna. But, are the dolphins unharmed? The jury is still in deliberation.
Since 1990 the Stenella dolphin mortality rates have decreased considerably due to the new management efforts. Unfortunately, their populations have not recovered as expected. Based on abundance analyses, scientists anticipated a recovery rate of 4% per year for both species, yet their actual recovery rates are at a mere - 2 to 2% per year. This is worrisome knowing that the populations are now at 20% for pantropical offshore spotted dolphins, and 35% for eastern spinner dolphins of their pre-fishery abundance (Wade & Gerrodette, 1993). Furthermore, we are unsure what the ecological impact will be in the ETP with the current low recruitment rates of both dolphin populations.
So what does this have to do with turtles, you may ask? Well, NOAA and the SWFSC (manager of the STAR project) decided to maximize time, money and resources by providing opportunities to piggyback research projects during the STAR cruises. That means filling each research vessel to capacity with enthusiastic scientists eager to study aspects of a system that we know very little about: the marine pelagic (open ocean) environment of the ETP. This multi-disciplinary survey approach has allowed the opportunistic study of sea birds, flying fish, whales, marine mammal acoustics, marine turtles, cephalopods, plankton, oceanographic trends, tuna, bill fish, marine debris and much more, complimenting the U.S. government mandated dolphin abundance and biology project quite nicely. It's amazing the amount and caliber of work that can be completed during four months at sea when you bring together a dozen or so leading researchers and a dynamite supporting crew on a well-equipped NOAA research vessel. Fortunately, I have the privilege of being the STAR 2006 sea turtle biologist and sailing on the DSJ- having access to hundreds of sea turtles in the pelagic environment during a nearly unknown stage of the endangered species' life. To date, most of the scientific studies on sea turtles have been land- based. That is, either on nesting beaches or in near shore foraging areas that are easily and quickly accessible by a small boat. Studying turtles in pelagic zones can provide some hefty logistical obstacles like funding, equipment, weather, boat(s), and manpower, among others. These are some of the reasons why studies have focused on land-based projects that are much more feasible on a small scale. This has left us missing an important piece of the puzzle since the turtles that come on to nesting beaches are only mature females. We also have convenient access to hatchlings on nesting beaches, but only an estimated 1% of them will survive to reach adulthood. The turtles mating offshore of nesting beaches are only mature adults (~20 + years). Most sub-adult to adult turtles found in foraging areas have already survived their pelagic stage, which Archie Carr coined as the 'lost years' "the pelagic life stage from when a turtle is a hatchling to when it inhabits a foraging ground." This life stage is currently a gap in knowledge of sea turtle ecology. Due to the difficultly of observing wild sea turtles in pelagic zones, there have been few comprehensive studies of this life stage. We know little about what generally happens during up to the first ~20 years of a marine turtle's life, or about their ecological role in the pelagic environment. This is especially true for leatherback, Kemp's ridley and olive ridley turtles (Eckert et al., 1999).
Understanding aspects of marine turtle biology such as dive behavior, feeding ecology, mating trends, pelagic movements and migrations, trophic levels, survival and defense mechanisms, and many more can help us piece together the life of a sea turtle and in turn have unprecedented implications for conservation strategies. I invite you to follow my four-month journey through the ETP as I study the following characteristics of olive ridley pelagic ecology: diet, heavy metal contaminant levels, dive behavior, movements and migrations. As this is my first research cruise longer than 10 days, it will certainly be an adventure as I live in close quarters among scientists, ship crew and NOAA officers. Follow along via my _log from sea_ and I_ll share with you the exciting discoveries, obstacles, lessons, trials, frustrations and humor I encounter while living and working aboard the DSJ.
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Leg 1
I sleep like a baby on this ship. Because I’m one of the new scientists and a green sailor, I sleep in the dreaded top bunk, but I really don’t mind it up there. Anyone who knows me well knows I usually don’t have much trouble sleeping anywhere, or anytime, and this has proven to be true so far despite the incredibly loud water pipe that runs over my bed within feet of my head. I landed a room with a porthole (only viewable from the bottom bunk), at least for the first 3 legs, after which I’ll move in to the room next door that’s slightly bigger but doesn’t have a porthole. My roommate is oceanographer Candice, “Candy,” Hall from South Africa. Energetic and bubbly, she’s a great roommate for many reasons, one being she’s sailed several times before and is always happy to fill me in on anything I should know but don’t in her funny accent I like to poke fun at. Fortunately, she gave myself, and two other ‘newbies’ a tour of the ship so we know where the heck we’re going, the areas we can and can’t be in, and showed us other important things like how to properly open and close the movie cabinets and rewind the tapes.
I did not get seasick at all which was a relief, and I don’t know of any of my shipmates that did either. I think we had exceptional weather as a few veteran observers remarked that they normally feel bad for the first couple of days, but this cruise no one seemed to have a problem. I took some Dramamine before we launched just in case. I couldn’t tell if it was the Dramamine or the extremely busy and long days I had leading up to the cruise, but I felt very tired for the first two days. I would wake up at 0700 hours because I didn’t want to miss anything, and by mid-morning I was zonked out in the hammock on the flying bridge. After a few days I got used to the constant sway of the ship, found my sea legs and could make it through the long days without napping.
Let me explain the main areas of the ship so that I can write about them with confidence you have some idea of where the action is taking place. The David Starr Jordan (DSJ) is a 174 ft. long NOAA research vessel broken up into a few general areas. The aft, or back, deck is an open space that is quite multi-functional. The aft deck, and a smaller deck just above it, is where we have hydraulics and two winches to put objects such as small boats, net tows, CTDs, etc. over the side. We also have two covered picnic tables on the back deck where we have our weekly bbq’s. At the stern of the ship, there is a large A-frame that we don’t use on this cruise, and a couple of comfy fishing chairs. This is where you might find some of the crew taking a load off, watching their fishing lines, or enjoying the sunset. I like to hang out there sometimes. It’s quiet and a good place to take in the expansiveness of the open ocean – no land in site (you just have to learn to block out the constant engine noise and the ship’s large, gassy wake to fully enjoy the experience). On previous STAR cruises the back deck is where the helicopter, used for aerial surveying and observer calibration, would land. We are doing things a little differently this year, and will used a small ‘Twin Otter’ plane based in Acapulco to accomplish observer calibration later in the cruise.
At nightfall the back deck comes alive. One hour after sunset the spotlights are turned on and directed to shine on the water’s surface just over the starboard side. Music is cued, and two dipnetters get busy scooping up myctophids (latternfish), flying fish, Halobates (surface bugs), squid, jellies, salps, and anything else they can get their nets on. This effectively samples prey items that support the marine mammal and bird species we survey in daylight hours. Dipnets have a wide mouth and a very long handle (20’), so a skilled netter can grab animals that are pretty far away from the hull and a meter or so deep. They are difficult to maneuver, and the dipnetters form an elite club, including members on many different ships and bodies of water. They prefer country music and wear cut off khaki shirts, fish prints, boat shoes and a smile. During the same time period, others collect squids using special jigs on the end of fishing rods, and the dipnetters catch quite a few too. Scientists and crew alike enjoy fishing for squid during this hour, and its fun having so many people participate in the collection. Candy also does her 1,000- meter CTD, which is a rosette of twelve bottles that are lowered to predetermined depths to collect water samples. The bottles are cocked open before entering the water, and snapped shut at various desired depths capturing water samples. This gives Candy a clear picture of the water column properties at that specific location. Just after the CTD, I am in charge of conducting two net tows. First we tow a manta net: a rectangle frame with a long net attached that tapers off into a cod end that collects a sample of neuston (e.g. fish eggs and larvae, invertebrates) at the sea surface for 15 minutes. Directly after, we tow a Bongo net: a paired hoop frame with attached nets and cod ends that collect two samples of subsurface ichthyoplankton and macrozooplankton at a range of depths throughout the water column. The Bongo net is towed for as close to 21:30 minutes as possible. Funny enough, the winch isn’t working properly on the starboard side of the ship, which is where we need to complete the net tows. A part is supposed to be brought to us at our first import, Mazatlan, to fix the problem, but until then no net tows!
When you enter the inside of the ship from the back deck, you enter the wet lab. This is where we have water fights. No, not really (well, sometimes). Actually, this is where we have a few sinks to work up net tow samples, count and identify the animals caught by the dipnetters, filter POM (particulate organic matter) samples, store oceanographic and other equipment, and keep all the life jackets and hard hats. Through the next doors going forward you enter the dry labs. This is where all our computes are kept (secured to their respective tabletop with eyehole screws and twine), where all the scientific and some galley freezers are, and still more equipment storage. You can most often find Candy there working on one of her five oceanographic computers, someone checking email on a different computer, the photographers (Cornelia, Laura and Adam) organizing photos on still another computer, the biopsy (Juan Carlos and Ernesto) or sea bird (Rich and Chris) guys entering data on their computers, or me in my corner of the lab working on all things turtles. There’s also a small, constant temperature room where Candy analyses some of her samples and some sensitive items are stored. Head out the back door of the dry lab and you run into the galley, and past that the mess deck. To orientate you, the mess is in the ‘middle’ of this ship, and forward of the mess are some staterooms and the bosun’s locker. The bosun, or boatswain, is in charge of the maintenance of the vessel, its boats, and other equipment – this is Chico, and he’s wonderful at his job and an incredibly nice guy.
Next to the galley, there’s a stairwell that leads up to the Executive Officer’s office, some scientist staterooms, a bathroom (two heads, two showers) and the crew’s lounge; I live on this floor. The crew’s lounge is a place ‘all hands’ (all personnel on the ship) can go to relax, watch a movie, check email, or browse the library. There are some comfy reclining chairs in there, and on rainy days it’s likely to be a full house. We didn’t have any rainy days on the first leg, so the only time I went in there was to get the vacuum to tidy my stateroom. This level is the bow level, so if you go out either side door you can access the bow, or head up outdoor stairwells to upper decks. The next deck up, which you can reach from an indoor or outdoor staircase, is the Captain and Cruise Leader staterooms, the Electronics Technician’s (ET) office, the SIC room (has two email computers, the photocopier, a printer and some other ancient equipment organized in an extremely feng shui-less fashion – its also really cold so I hardly go in there, and I don’t know what SIC stands for yet…), and very importantly, the bridge. The bridge is where the on duty officer drives the ship, navigates, communicates with other boats, and gets the ship in the right position for specific scientific happenings (marine mammal sightings, launching the small boat, CTDs, etc.).
The deck above the bridge is called the flying bridge and is the top deck of the ship. There we have a (temporary) raised wooden deck under which four ‘big eyes’ (giant binoculars that can see up to 6 miles), three pivotal chairs, and three waterproof-housed computers are mounted to the deck. The wooden deck covers all the bolts and things, and provides a nicer platform to walk and work on. The flying bridge is where all the marine mammal and sea bird observation magic happens. Aft of the raised wooden deck, there is an area called “steel beach,” which is an open area (except for a few large fish boxes and barrels secured to the railings) perfect for watching the sunset, reading in a beach chair or lounging in the hammock. I’ve heard rumors that some bring their towels to lie out on ‘steel beach,’ but I have yet to observe that human behavior. I would think you’d also have to bring your own padding, because the ‘steel’ part of the beach is just as hard as it sounds, because it’s steel.
Returning back to the mess deck, you can also take a staircase down to a lower deck. Here you can find still more staterooms and a walk- in food pantry that doubles as the track (there’s a treadmill in there used at the runner’s own risk). Still lower, there is another deck that has more food storage, the laundry room, and a small gym. When I say small, I mean small. There are a few pieces of workout equipment, some dumbbells, a stationary bike, and floor space enough for one yoga mat. All hands, crew with first priority due to their watch schedules, sign up for up to a one-hour block of time. During this first leg, I went to the gym almost every day from 2000 – 2100 hours. It felt good to get my blood pumping, but mostly I liked the rare alone time. I crank the music and zone out. Sometimes it’s just nice to stretch out and lay on the floor for a few minutes.
I apologize for taking up so much space describing the ship, but I spent much of leg 1 getting to know the in’s and out’s of my new floating home. Also, much time was spent getting to know my new shipmates. I have become good friends with the ‘squid lady,’ Iliana Ruiz-Cooley. She is a PhD student from New Mexico State University and is a visiting scientist sailing for legs 1 and 2 collecting squid for her thesis project. Interestingly enough, she’s not actually a squid lady by trade. She is studying sperm whales that feast on squid – therefore she’s collecting all squid species and sizes in the ETP where sperm whales feed. When she leaves, we’ll continue to collect specimens for her to analyze back in her lab. Apparently she cannot sail all 6 legs because she has to take her pre-doctoral exam, or something inconsequential like that... I am excited I have another whole leg with her, but I know I’ll be bummed when she takes off in Costa Rica, our second import. Iliana is a short, petite Mexican lady but her personality is contrastingly large, and she is full of positive energy. Her eyes light up when she smiles, and she’s almost always smiling - it gets down right contagious. Her English is very good, and she is always trying to learn new words and improve her pronunciation. Her literal use of some English words, and her innocence when learning new slang and jokes really make me laugh. She’s one of those people that you feel warm just being around, even if nothing exciting is happening, or no one has much to say. I’ve learned she’s a genuine person that is very ambitious and smart. She is at the forefront of stable isotope science, which is coincidently what my master’s thesis will rely heavily on, so I am fortunate to have become friends and colleagues with her. I have enlisted her help and editorial assistance for my projected master’s work; she’s already helped me with several things, and has been very generous in offering future assistance as well. Iliana is one of those people that inspires you to be a better person, without even knowing it. Oh yeah, and she’s extremely gullible, which provides unlimited amounts of entertainment.
So, I’m out here to study turtles, and leg 1 was chock-a-block full of them! Jeff Seminoff, Peter Dutton and Robin LeRoux from SWFSC gave me some excellent training in the few days leading up to our departure. Watching San Diego become smaller and smaller as we sailed away I was hoping we would run into turtles soon so I wouldn’t have time to forget anything! Sure enough, just three days later on 1 August, we came across two loggerheads. One of the questions I’ve gotten most often is “How do you catch the turtles?” Well, many would argue that catching the turtles is the most exciting and fun part of the whole process. It’s called ‘turtle rodeo’ and it definitely lives up to its name. Once we launch the small boat (aka “J3”) from the ship, we have to locate the turtle. Sometimes the flying bridge has spotted the turtle and has either thrown a marker float near it, or recorded its general location. This helps us locate the turtle quickly. Sometimes J3 just cruises around searching for turtles. In both cases, when J3 has a visual on a turtle, the ‘turtler’ must strip down to their swim outfit and be ready to jump from the bow. The coxswain, or boat driver, is a very important part of the process. It is essential that he (we don’t have any female crew members on the DSJ) approaches the turtle at the right angle and speed to ensure capture. If the turtle sees us coming and has enough time to react, it will dive before we can wrangle it to the surface. We have excellent crewmembers and all four drivers are great at getting us into position. The whole capture process, or rodeo, happens quickly, and when the boat is a meter or less from the turtle the jumper must dive very close to the animal and grab the shell at both the top and bottom as quickly as possible. Once they’ve got hold, they need to push the tail end down and the front end up so the turtle’s head and front flippers are out of the water. If the jumper fails to do this critical maneuver, given the opportunity the turtle can and will swim directly down, and can be strong enough to take a person down with it (in which case, we let go and wave good-bye). Some of the veteran crew guys, like Chico and Joao, like to initially dive deep and approach the turtle from underneath to grab and flip them on their backs at the surface. This is an effective method too, as a turtle cannot swim when it’s on its back. I prefer the method first mentioned because I often like to kiss the turtle’s head before passing it up to the boat – just to let it know it’s in good hands. Note: I don’t recommend anyone else to kiss a turtle as they can carry salmonella.
Once the turtle is on J3, it must be wrapped in a net and secured with a Carabiner (safety hook) so it can be lifted up to the ship. Onboard, I work up the turtle by completing the following: flipper tagging both rear flippers with metal tags, taking various measurements, counting the carapace scutes (scales), taking blood, skin and scute samples, recording the behavior at capture, collecting a lavage sample (flushing stomach contents), recording any notables (scars, entanglements, wounds, health, etc.), and, oh yeah, giving a departing kiss before release. I’m the only kisser, but several other people assist me in processing each turtle. I need the help of a recorder – a person to write down all the information on the data sheet as I complete the work-up, as well as a handler or two to help me situate the turtle into positions that I can collect the measurements and samples. Sometimes we have more than one turtle to process at a time, and in those cases Bob Pitman, our stellar cruise leader and pelagic ecology guru, jumps in and helps to process. I really appreciate the help of the scientists and foreign observers onboard who lend a hand to get the turtles processed and released as quickly as possible, I literally couldn’t do it without them. Olive ridleys, the turtles we see most of in the ETP, can be up to 50kg and over 70cm in length, therefore I am grateful for the help in lifting, maneuvering and releasing the reptiles. Iliana has been especially helpful with recording, and next leg I’ll have to scope out a replacement for her.
Another person who’s been a huge help with the turtle project is our teacher-at-sea, Mark Harris. I first met Mark back in San Diego during our two days of intense cruise training held at the SWFSC. He seemed excited about the cruise and specifically interested in the turtle project, but I had no idea he would turn out to be such a dedicated assistant. Most days J3 would be launched just after 0800 hours. Each morning, Mark and I would hop in the boat to look for turtles. I usually rodeoed the first one or two and then we’d bring them back to the ship. Mark would either get off to help me process the turtles on the back deck, or stay on J3 to capture more for me. When he did get off to help me process, as soon as we finished he’d be right back on the boat to catch some more. He is an all around workhorse and gave the same effort to any and all projects that needed help. He was up each morning at 0430 hours to help Candy with the morning CTD and squid for Iliana. Then he’d be ready for a full day of turtling. During any down time, he was happy to help the crew fish for large, predatory fish like Yellowfin Tuna, Skipjack, Mahi Mahi and Wahoo – Bob Pitman takes samples of theses fish for SWFSC biologist, Bob Olson’s (IATTC) isotope study, and then of course everyone enjoys the fresh fish at mealtime. After dinner and watching for the green flash at sunset, Mark was ready to again help Candy with her evening CTD, and Iliana with her squiding - had we done net tows I know he would have been the first one in line to lend some muscle. Not only will I miss his help next leg, but I’ll also miss his spirit. I never saw Mark without a glowing smile on his face, and it was blatantly obvious how much he was enjoying his experience at sea. It was fun getting to know Mark, and we had many great conversations and lots of laughs. He is an endearing storyteller that emanates passion and emotion. It’s nice to think that he’ll be telling stories to his students, family and friends about his pals on the DSJ in that same affectionate way when he gets home. He squeezed every drop out of his time at sea because he put so much of himself into each day he spent with us. He was always around, either on the flying bridge, the back deck, or hanging out in one of the labs. He didn’t miss anything and because of it became an appreciated part of our scientific family out here. It will surely seem like one of the team is missing next leg when he goes back to school in Utah
I’ll wrap up an eventful leg 1 by mentioning some of the highlights, the most exciting being sailing in the Sea of Cortez. The DSJ glided through the glassy, beaufort 0 turquoise gulf with sea life everywhere, surpassing its reputation of being the ‘world’s aquarium.’ Dolphins and whales were 360 degrees around us, seabirds flew in from every angle, and at the mouth, the turtles were so thick J3 would literally have to dodge them like a car would pot holes on a bumpy dirt road. That day (10 August) I processed 19 turtles, and had daylight allowed I could have processed many more. It was so exciting because every time J3 would bring another turtle to the ship it would be a different size and have different coloration. We captured very small (~25 cm) juvenile turtles that are the cutest things on the planet apart from hatchlings; we also captured very large, adult turtles, both males and females, and every size in between. To see the carapace structure and color changes between the turtles at their different life stages was very interesting. As I reflected on the intense and exhilarating day I couldn’t stop smiling, knowing I was exactly where I was supposed to be, and doing something I love. Are you supposed to enjoy work this much?
Another fun experience was the first night of the Humboldt squid – giant cephalopods (4.5+ feet long, 40+ lbs) that Iliana is particularly interested in because they live deep in the ocean, but come to the surface at night to feed – these large squid are what sperm whales eat! Iliana is using special glow-in-the-dark jigs to fish for squids, and she brought three different sizes to catch various sizes of squid. The largest jig is around 5 lbs and almost 6 inches long! It’s a ridiculously large, multi-pronged jig and when she first pulled them out we all laughed at her. We thought she was being a little too ambitious, but when the jig snagged the first Humboldt squid, she took pleasure in saying, “I told you so!” The giant squid are astonishing animals to see up close. I never realized how gorgeous squid are. They flash all different colors and have super strong mantle, fin and arm muscles. Their beaks are very intimidating, and I found it sad to see such a fierce predator so helpless laid out on the deck suffocating. After the first one was on deck, there were a fury of poles and jigs in the water anxious to catch the next goliath. It was exciting and fun seeing scientists and crew alike participating in the massacre – all in the name of science! Once the hour was up and the poles were put away, Iliana and I stayed up until 0230 hours processing the jumbo squid. She dissected, measured and took samples as I recorded and stored the samples – it felt good to provide help to her as she helps me daily with the turtles. Although, she has been so enamored with the turtles, I think she loves every minute she spends with the magnetic reptiles – so do I.
I really enjoy working on the small boat. It’s a little different than working on pangas in Baja, but generally the same idea. My most memorable experience so far was observing copulating turtles. I had never seen turtles mating before, so when we got close I slipped in the water with a mask and snorkel and was able to get within a few feet of the lovebirds. It was a surreal experience and I couldn’t believe how close I was able to get without the turtles even really noticing.
My favorite time of day, besides my time with turtles, is watching the incredible summer sunsets. The flying bridge is a great place to watch the sun sink below the horizon and the clouds slowly soak in the colors. I can’t remember one day of the entire leg that we didn’t have a beautiful sunset.
I’ve seen dolphins before, but never like this. The schools can be massive (sometimes over 10,000 individuals) and when they start running (traveling very fast while porpoising out of the water) it’s simply stunning. I didn’t expect to be so impressed with the dolphins, I guess because I was preparing so much for turtles, but the dolphins are incredibly athletic animals. The high arching leaps, breaches, head slaps, tail walking, and all of their other powerful, yet graceful, behaviors are awe inspiring. It’s a lot of fun when they bow ride, especially with the small boat. We could lean over the side of J3 and reach out and touch them if we wanted to – but we prefer to just watch them tumble and play at an arms length away. They look like they are having so much fun!
Our first import is Mazatlan and a group of us are going to go up into the mountains to go bird watching and hiking. I’m having a great time at sea, but I’m very much looking forward to seeing green trees, staying dry for an extended period of time, walking on solid ground, and sweating! I’ve done a fair amount of sweating, but mostly because it’s been so hot out here. It will be refreshing to sweat because I’m exerting myself. Exercise that’s not stationary – woo who!
After sunset on the last day of leg 1, Bob, our cruise leader, gathered all the scientists together to thank us for a great leg. He was impressed and grateful to all of us, especially the marine mammal observers, for working so hard, taking the busy days in stride, and having a lot of fun at the same time. We had hundreds of marine mammal and sea bird sightings, processed 40 turtles, conducted daily oceanographic and biological sampling efforts, and were able to efficiently complete the work and make it enjoyable. It’s rewarding to be a part of such a talented, dedicated and professional team who share my passion and love for the ocean and life within. I’m really looking forward to leg 2, and the rest of the cruise, but I am taking full advantage of each day, one at a time.
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Leg 2
After a relaxing, fun, and nature-filled inport in Mazatlan, it is clear the foreign imports are going to be one of the most enjoyed perks of this 4-month, ETP cruise. The two sea bird observers, Rich Pagen and Chris Cutler, marine mammal observer Gary Friedrichsen, visiting scientist Iliana Ruiz-Cooley, and I rented a car and got out of Old Mazatlan as fast as we could. The DSJ docks in the same harbor as the commercial freighters and the passenger cruiseliners, so needless to say there isn’t anything happening within a 20-mile radius that I would be particularly interested in. I can patron bars and restaurants any old time, but this epic adventure was to be Iliana’s and my first ever bird watching trip!
Gary and Chris took turns chauffeuring us up a windy, luscious green mountain along the road to Durango. Iliana and I were in for quite a treat. Rich and Chris are both ornithologists hired all over the world to lead large groups of tourists on eco-adventures observing birds. Gary is also an avid birder. Combine that with excitement for being on dry land, muscles itching to walk, run and hike, and the inviting Mexican culture, and we had the perfect ingredients for a great bird watching experience.
We had a great time in the mountains. My favorite parts were getting up early to catch the sunrise and the busiest part of the day for bird activity, laughing hysterically with my shipmates over cervezas, and the adventures we had getting to and from our bird watching destinations. There was never a dull moment, and it was a really fun way to get to know my shipmates better. A few things I learned: When you get Gary laughing really hard he sounds like a puttering car starting its engine, or like an old geezer’s silent laugh, then he erupts with a bolstering, jolly laugh that gets everyone following suit. Rich loves to use his cute little digital camera to capture anything and everything, including eyeballs, improv rock album covers, and auto-stream crossings. Chris is obsessed with birds, bugs, toads, plants… anything that’s living really. And he knows a lot of interesting facts about just about all of them; he’s like a walking nature guidebook spitting out species names, distinguishing characteristics, life history and such. Iliana and I were two peas in a pod, taking on the bird watching thing full speed ahead. The three days went by too fast, and before we knew it we were back on the DSJ ready to start another seemingly haphazard (however intricately planned) zig-zag of a trackline towards Costa Rica.
On day 1 of Leg 2, I was back on the small boat cruising around catching turtles, and working them up on the back deck. It was almost like we never had a break, and I felt right at home. That night I woke up shivering uncontrollably in my bed. Some areas of the DSJ, particularly the staterooms, are notoriously cool due to the air-conditioning. We would be much worse off without it in the ETP heat, so no one dare complains. I thought at first our duck-taped cardboard vent cover rigging had come off during the night, or maybe the AC had gone ballistic. I wrapped myself up and tried a few tricks to warm up, but the chills persisted. After 45 minutes or so, I was giving in to the idea that I might be getting sick. I felt OK, besides the shivers. My roommate Candice Hall (Candy), the oceanographer, gets up around 4:30 to do her morning CTD. I thought I could hold out until she woke up via alarm to ask her to throw some warm clothes up to the top bunk (I didn’t dare get out of bed for fear of turning into an icicle), but the headache started and I thought I better act sooner than later. She was wonderful and gave me all sorts of sweatpants, hoodies, and socks – none of which could quite warm me up enough to stop the shivers. After a few hours I was burning up, but still cold. Hmm… not a good sign.
A few friends stopped in to say ‘hey’ that morning; they had heard I wasn’t feeling well. Bob Pitman (cruise leader) had been sick while in port, and I was sure I had caught something from him. Friends share, and share alike. Rich and I joked about passing the sick baton, and he jokingly said he’d take it next. He shouldn’t have offered because sure enough, a few hours later, Rich was down for the count in his stateroom, just feet from mine. Oh boy. If there is anyone to be sick with, it’s Rich. He’s mellow, funny, and we have great conversation. We had some quality laid-up time to get to know each other better. He laid on the floor (the most comfortable place he could find) while I laid on Candy’s bottom bunk and we chatted away in between dreaded bathroom runs. I can’t remember the last time I’ve been so sick really. It hit me from all sides and was coming out all ends (sorry for the details). We watched a few movies, but you can only watch so many movies in a day. There are lots of fun things to do on a ship, and even plenty of interesting things that are fun on land, but even more fun on a ship. Being sick is not one of them. Without the comfort of my own bed (that’s not a story high and an obstacle course to get in and out of), my own TV and remote control, my own personal bathroom and toilet, and my mother just a phone call away, its rather uncomfortable to be sick on a ship. Especially the shared toilets… perhaps at times worse for my shipmates than for Rich and I!
There were a few scary moments (or hours I should say) during my sickness. At one point my fever was quite high, and Iliana, Candy and marine mammal observer Juan Carlos Salinas literally nursed me back to health by putting ice packs on my neck, cold cloths on my face and forehead, and rubbing alcohol on my legs and arms (apparently an old Mexican remedy). They gave the same STAR treatment to Rich. Boy, was I grateful for their care. My fever finally broke and I could see straight again and sit up. That was the worst of it; after that I just had to keep drinking lots of Gatorade and water, trying to force down some toast occasionally. Even after Rich and I were feeling well enough to leave our rooms and return to work, our gastro-intestinal problems persisted for several days… Here’s a funny thought: Sometimes on a ship, the fresh water, and/or the heads (aka toilets) become ‘secured’ – meaning no one is allowed to use them until further notice. There are various reasons for this happening, but when you are using both quite frequently, as Rich and I were over the span of these few weeks on Leg 2, it can become pretty humorous. There’s really no other way to look at it. Luckily, that only happened at the very tail end of our ten-a-day bathroom runs, and we were able to handle the situation without much trouble. Phew!
I was mostly bummed to be sick because I was missing possible turtle days. Luckily the flying bridge hadn’t seen too many turtles since I’d been down and out, and when I got back into the swing of things, we started seeing more turtles. However, besides a few good days here and there, Leg 2 was a very quiet turtle leg. We didn’t see nearly as many turtles as we did on Leg 1, and we ran in to some bad weather on several occasions, making small boat operations, and therefore turtle capture, out of the question. On Leg 1 I processed 40 turtles and, based on that, I have set the goal of processing 240 turtles by the end of the cruise (40 turtles per leg, for 6 legs). Now at the end of Leg 2, I have only processed 12 turtles, a total of 52 so far for the cruise. My momentum has slowed but I am hoping that the remaining legs will be much more turtle-rich.
Although turtles were scarce, our up-and-running net tows were keeping me busy in the evenings. Typically we conduct net tows each night about two hours after sunset on the Starboard side. Since our Starboard winch had been broken all of Leg 1 (no net tows conducted at all), we had gotten a part shipped to Mazatlan to fix the problem. The wrong part came, no repair was made, and we decided to give the tows a whirl on the Port side of the ship during Leg 2. After a week or so we had the somewhat cumbersome net tow operations running smoothly, and we were getting nice Manta (surface) and Bongo (surface to 300m and back) samples each night. Yet another part (hopefully the correct one) will be shipped to us in Costa Rica, and our expert engineers will try to fix the Starboard winch again. We’ll see what happens on Leg 3!
There were definitely a couple of highlights despite the absence of many turtle friends, in addition, of course, to getting horribly sick. The first was seeing more mating pairs of turtles. During one encounter, it was just Joao, one of our wonderful crew members, and I on the small boat (“J3”), and we decided to hang out with the lovebirds for a few minutes. I was able to jump in the water and take a closer look with the mask and snorkel, staying virtually unnoticed by the mating pair, at least so it seemed. It was a special experience for me, and Joao was really great about taking the time to let me enjoy the moment. One of the interesting things about mating turtles is that we don’t know how long their mating activity lasts for. Perhaps hours, perhaps days, even weeks! Some of the mating turtles we see in oceanic waters have accumulated remoras, and lots of algae and barnacles -- all hitching a ride on their shell, plastron and other grooved areas, and fish begin aggregating beneath them. This mini-ecosystem suggests that the mating behavior lasts longer than mere hours; as we know from observing marine debris of all ‘ages,’ it takes more than a few hours for something floating (like a plastic bottle or even a mating pair of turtles) for other marine organisms to consider it secure and permanent enough to move in and make it their safe haven.
Another highlight was our much-anticipated visit to the famous Cocos Island. This densely forested, strikingly green Costa Rican mountain island surrounded by contrastingly turquoise-blue water sheathing extremely biodiverse coral reef was the inspiration for the Hollywood movie, Jurassic Park. I can see it being an inspiration for a lot of things. The DSJ was one of seven boats in the bay where the ranger station is located, and by far the largest. The other vessels were small fishing, diving and patrol boats. Our fleet of small boats (of which the DSJ has three) shuttled passengers from the ship to the shore in an adventurous fashion. Once on land we were let loose to explore the foot trails and waterfalls, and challenged to spot one or more of the three endemic bird species: Cocos Finch, Cocos Flycatcher, and Cocos Cuckoo. I was only able to see the Cocos Finch – they seemed to be on every other tree branch so they would have been hard to miss. There was plenty of other bird life there too. It was fun watching Red-footed Boobies carrying sticks off in their beaks to build their nests, and the Great Frigatebirds were flying high and making a lot of noise – they were gorgeous. Especially beautiful are the adult males that inflate huge, bright red neck sacks to attract females.
Hiking Cocos was an adventure to say the least. Rich and I inevitably fell behind the group because we stopped every 20 feet or so to watch a bird or take a photo. Our intention was to hike from the bay where we arrived over the side of the mountain to another bay nestled on the other side. As we reached the descending point on the other side, the rocks became slippery, the hillside steep and the ‘balance’ ropes tied from tree to tree flimsy. About halfway down we decided to bail and head back to the first bay so we could get at least an hour of snorkeling in before returning to our very own island of steel. Back at the ranger station and the entry point to the prime snorkeling spot, I realized that my snorkel gear was firmly attached to the back of my dear friend Iliana, still afoot somewhere in the green. No worry, Rich, Candy and I had a great time snorkeling and swimming, all the while passing two masks and snorkels around between the three of us. The best part was when we saw our first White-tip Reef Shark, while Rich and I had the masks, and Candy was temporarily mask-free. Try excitedly yelling “Shark!” when you have an essentially blind friend treading water beside you. In about two split seconds Candy was literally on my back yelling, “Where? What kind? Where?”, all adding to the fun, group snorkeling experience. We saw plenty of other marine life too, and it was funny to think that it was the first time since cruising for a little over a month that us marine biologists had really gotten beneath the surface to see some of the things we are sailing the high seas to study. Strange really.
I am somewhat anxious for this leg to end for a couple of reasons. One being that it was a considerably slow leg for turtles and Leg 3’s trackline is much more conducive to turtle research. The second being our port stop: Costa Rica. A group of us have planned to visit Playa Ostional, one of the most famous olive ridley sea turtle nesting beaches. This is one of the few beaches in the world where the amazing arribada (“arrival”) happens – where thousands of females come out to lay their eggs on the same 2km stretch of beach, all in the same night. Rich and I spent an hour or so on the flying bridge one night looking at the moon and predicting our chances of actually seeing an arribada. They tend to happen during the New Moon phase, which we calculated to be about 14 days off from when we would land in Ostional… nevertheless, we will arrive ourselves in Ostional and test our luck. At the very least we will hopefully see a few turtle mammas doing their reproductive beach strut, which will be well worth the journey. 
I am also very sad to see Leg 2 come to an end, as it means that my good friend Iliana, also known as the ‘squid lady,’ must leave us. She isn’t even staying in Costa Rica long enough to join us on our epic arribada adventure. She and I have become close and I will miss her smiling eyes, her laugh, her funny ways of saying things in English, and most of all being able to rest my elbow on her shoulder (she’s about seven inches shorter than me!). Although I will miss her friendship and companionship, she is excited to go home to see her husband and get to work on her thesis, so I’m also happy for her. We will have to rely on email to stay connected over the next few months, and I look forward to seeing her smiling face on the dock when the DSJ pulls in to San Diego at the end of STAR 2006.
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