Florida State University : Research in Review

Day 14 - Friday, 09/26/08

Position: N33 38.533 W 121 12.719

The trip got more interesting early this morning. Gabe, our chief engineer, announced that the “desal” system (desalinization)—which converts seawater to water we use for showers—committed “suicide” during the evening. The parts necessary to fix it aren’t aboard, he said. The good news is that Gabe thinks we have enough water stored for the rest of the trip provided we keep our showers short. Our toilets are served by raw seawater, which some of us have learned can make nocturnal trips to the head quite entertaining. A sparkly display of bioluminescence in the toilet bowl is something most humans never see—and wouldn’t understand it if they did.

Today was a luxurious treat. With no heavy labor on the agenda, the science crew slept late, did laundry, read, sorted through e-mail, piddled, played cribbage and watched TV. Tonight’s presidential debate drew a crowd in the galley, where the sat-linked TV is mounted.

Others managed to wrench themselves away from what no doubt will be recorded as a riveting moment in the nation’s history to attend to urgent duties on the fantail. Said duties consisted largely of watching handlines and a rod and reel, all trolling tuna jigs, against another glorious tableau of sunset. We had luck! Four five-pound albacore were hauled aboard on handlines—eschewing the fancy rod outfit as if it were a live wire.

Chef Karen out-did herself tonight with a presentation of steamed Dungeness crab, caught fresh from Monterey Bay the night before our departure. Served with warm garlic butter, rice and salad, it was crab-lovers’ heaven. A platter of still-kicking, tuna sashimi accompanied the crabs. It was a yeoman effort to find room at a table; another to leave it.

Russell got the bad news he was expecting today from Galveston. A friend of his reached his apartment complex and e-mailed him photos of the damage inflicted by Hurricane Ike last week. Located on the ground floor, his apartment was engulfed. He’s lost everything but the clothes he has on this boat, his wallet and his passport. He’s taking it well, but we all feel sorry for him. He still has no good idea where he’ll be staying in College Station, Texas A&M’s central campus. Graduate school isn’t supposed to be this hard.

At the speed we’re making, we should be sitting atop Station No. 7 by 6 a.m. The weather is solidly fall-like with highs in the upper 60s. Seas at nightfall were no more than four feet. Most likely, tonight will be our last chance for a good night’s sleep for a couple of days, free of the otherworldly squalls of our good friend, Mr. Winch.

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