Florida State University : Research in Review

Day 13 - Thursday, 09/25/08

Position: N36 30.653 W123 27.686

This morning was a return to Station No. 5 for some unfinished business. Weather chased us off two days ago when we were here, after completing only four casts of the corer. At 10:30, this morning we nailed our fifth, but lost another coring tube in the process. We were forced to press back into service two old ones we found in the corer’s boneyard of parts, stored in a large box in the engine room. They worked.

Seas weren’t as bad today as yesterday, despite some gusty blows up to 30 knots during the evening transit. Still, the Sur rose and fell on station to steady 5- to 7-footers all day. Yours truly took a prominent spill on deck this morning washing coring tubes, but the 58-year-old frame survived unscathed.

Early this morning we discovered a small dead fish on deck. Buz identified it as a lanternfish, a member of the deep-sea loving family of myctophids, a large group of fishes with nearly 250 species. Lanternfish get their name from their heavy use of light-producing organs in their heads and scattered around their short bodies. In the lightless depths where they spend most of their lives, these fish need their “headlights” to find food. During daylight hours, they stay deep—1,500 or more meters. But during the night they rise in search of food—and become food themselves. We surmised that our fish may have leapt aboard the Sur to escape a predator, possibly a pack of these large (up to a meter) squid—we’ve seen zooming around under our lights during night operations. We’re guessing these could be small jumbo squid, also known as the Humboldt squid (Dosidicas gigas). Attempts to catch one of these beasts to identify it, using a rod and reel armed with a chemical light and sharp treble hooks, so far haven’t paid off. They readily attack our offerings, but we’ve been unable to set a hook. When Jack produced from his tackle box a special jig made for catching squid, it was snapped off his line in an instant.

By 5 today, with the last of three casts here aboard, we were on a course of 147 degrees, heading to Station No. 7 due west of San Diego, the farthest south we’ll travel, riding with the waves again. It’s a 280-mile, 37-hour ride, and judging by comments from our sailors, a welcomed respite from corer duty. The lines of an old Jimmy Buffett tune spring to mind, something about changes in latitude, changes in attitude. It’s readjustment time.

So, with half the mission over—and a long break ahead—maybe it’s a good point to reflect a bit more seriously on what brought this team together and what they’re doing here. When you go bottom-fishing for microscopic-sized animals in water so outrageously deep the mind misfires when contemplating it, there must be a good reason. Luckily for me, I’m with scientists who are good at explaining what they do, and why.

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