Author: maritime

Sometimes there’s a delayed reaction with media articles. I was not very proactive in promoting the recent expedition, but I’m glad someone else was.  The Naval Meteorology and Oceanography Command produced a nice article that appeared on the Navy News web site today.  We’ll see if it inspires any additional interest from other media folks.

So…did we find the BHR? I honestly don’t know.  Did we find two potentially interesting cultural sites? It’s very possible.  Will we ever get to find out what they are?  I sure hope so.  But this project is about so much more than cannons on the bottom of the sea.

Someone once told me that sometimes it’s the process that is most important.  This was the fourth collaborative BHR mission between the US and French Navies in as many years.  It was the most complicated one yet, with U.S. teams on all three ships (most of us not knowing how to speak French), a two-way flow of knowledge and experience from all personnel, training for the French crew on the Autonomous Underwater Vehicles, and a joint quest that is a symbol of our nations’ intertwined maritime histories.  It is a quest that belongs to everyone – the interested citizen, the history buff, the donors who support the Ocean Technology Foundation, the men and women who serve or have served in the Navies, and the young student whose interest in marine technology is piqued by reading about the BHR missions.  I advocate for these missions because they are life-altering — for me, and hopefully for all those involved, even in some small way.

The best way to monitor the blog is to sign up for the email option, and you will automatically receive any new posts via email. If you have any questions or comments for me, you can always email me directly at melissa.oceantechnology@gmail.com.  Thanks for sharing this amazing quest!

To Bruno, John H. and Jon W.:  Many, many thanks for your leadership and unwavering faith in what we are doing. I only wish you could have been out there with us to see first-hand the hundred positive impacts of your support. You have changed lives, and there is more to come…

Thursday, June 7

About half an hour later, we spotted another interesting target. This one was smaller, but again looked a lot more interesting than the surrounding seabed.  We don’t know if part of it could have been buried and not visible, as often happens with shifting sands.  But we marked its location and decided we liked it.

It was getting late in the afternoon, and the seas were picking up.  STYX was working several miles from us, preparing for a diving mission, but we radioed them to ask for an AUV mission instead, in order to further investigate these new targets.  The AUV has higher resolution imaging and can fly closer to the seabed than the towed sonar system.  We gave them the coordinates of the targets, and they prepared for their mission, which would begin at 6:00 pm.  It would be the last one of the evening, and if the weather forecast was correct, the last one of the entire mission, which would end a day early.  We had one chance to get more information on these targets.  At 5:00 I spoke with the AUV team and they said that the wave height was borderline for working safely, but they still planned to go ahead with the mission.  At 5:30 I was called to the bridge. The AUV team informed us that they could not carry out their final mission.  The seismic ship that was working in our area was coming through, and both of our ships had to move out of the way. With the weather worsening by the minute, there would be zero chance for another mission, even after the seismic ship cleared the area.  

So that was it.  There is always that one dreaded moment during a mission when I know it just isn’t going to happen this time. And that I have to go back home and tell the Admirals again that the results of the mission are inconclusive.  Could I ramble off a list of excuses?  Sure. Weather, equipment failure, not enough time, etc.  But this is just the nature of the beast, and anyone who has worked in salt water knows and accepts this.  When planning a mission, we automatically take the total number of days of the mission, and assume that we will be able to work for only half of those days.  Mother Nature does not negotiate, and too many other circumstances are beyond our control.

Wednesday, June 6

I got out of bed at 5:30 since there was no point trying to sleep, and found my way to the bridge. I believe that this is one of the secrets to fighting seasickness, because you can see the swells coming in advance, anticipate the ship’s movements, and adjust your balance accordingly.  The waves were breaking over the bow, and the skies were their usual North Sea grey.  The mood on the bridge could only be described as somber, and the five men on duty were silent and unmoving due to lack of sleep, seasickness, and general misery.  I asked the Executive Officer what they usually do when morale is low, and he said, “Work.”  Since we couldn’t work, I asked what else we could do.  His response was, “I don’t know, morale’s never been this bad before.” 

For some humor, I told the crew I was going to make an offering to the sea gods and goddesses, so that they would bring us better weather.  Legend says the gods like sweet things, so I collected some chocolate and fruit, and held a brief ceremony where I made a request and tossed little bits of sweets into the sea (photo left). They thought I was crazy, but I think it may have worked.

30 Minutes Later

The mood of a ship changes in an instant, and word traveled fast that we now had an opportunity to work.  There was a tangible excitement in the air as crew members darted through the passageways, giving commands, putting on their gear, preparing to fire up the sonar system and get it in the water.  It was like the fog had lifted, and now there were smiles everywhere. One of the crewmen was whistling the theme song from the movie “Rocky” and it made me smile.

The final word from the Captain was that we were “go for launch,” so the Thales DUBM-44 sonar was deployed (photo top right), and we were off. We surveyed for the rest of the day (sonar command central is on bottom right), but did not find any really compelling targets – only ones that looked like rocks.  In the meantime, the divers on STYX dove on a few targets and described them as “rocks and sand.”  Still nothing solid to pin our hopes on.

Throughout the entire mission, we had been having to give way to a much larger commercial ship that was doing seismic surveys to search for oil in the seabed. In conversation about the target we had seen earlier in the week that consisted of two 35-foot rings, we wondered if these were perhaps some equipment left behind by the seismic ship.  I spoke with the ship’s Captain via the radio, and he indicated that the rings were not related to their work.

Tuesday Morning, June 5

Tuesday Afternoon

The Captain has decided that we should roll the dice and transit out to the search area to see if by some miracle, the seas have laid down enough for us to put the sonar in the water.  I am not terribly hopeful, but there is always the chance that perhaps a tiny bit of my faith will slowly be restored.  These missions are the ultimate test of faith, and at the low points, I would give anything to get back to my family, my house, my gardens, and the fabulous weather that only a New England summer can bring.  But the relationships and the high points of a mission make it all worthwhile.  When we arrive, the seas are still too rough to work, so again I have lots of time to write.
The crew told me something very surprising today.  It seems that I am the only woman who has ever stayed on board ANTARES.  The ship was commissioned in 1993, so it has existed in almost 20 years of maleness. I am told that in the fall, the French Navy will have women on every ship, so I guess I am the female pioneer on this vessel.  The most important thing I have learned in this type of situation is to enter it with great respect and sensitivity.  The men have their rituals, their inside jokes, their evening routines, and I am only a guest who has been allowed into their world for a few weeks. It’s hard to tell if they enjoy having a woman around, if they are ambivalent, or if they prefer to have their manly environment to themselves. I doubt they would tell me the truth anyway, but I will choose to believe that a little balance of yin and yang is a good thing. They seem to be getting used to having me around, and the bonding continues through playing cards in the evening, chatting at mealtimes, sharing photos of families and homes, and working together throughout the day. They are very curious about the American way of life, which they see mostly from American TV shows like Desperate Housewives, How I Met Your Mother, etc.  I have begged them not to form opinions of Americans based on what they see on television! They have also expressed great interest in spending time on US Navy ships, and are curious about how things are done in the “most powerful Navy in the world.”  Hmmmm…..maybe this is my next little project – more French participation in USN missions? 

Back to life at sea.  There are many moments when I have embarrassed myself – such as when the cap from my hair spray bottle fell into the sink and went down the drain, and the engineer had to take the entire drain apart to retrieve it (why don’t they have those little mesh catchers in the drains?) I guarantee they are going to be seeing a lot more of this when they have women on board.  And there was the time when at 1:00 a.m. I went searching for the bathroom and accidentally walked into the XO’s room.  Oops.  It’s mighty dark on this ship at night.  And then there was the time when I attempted to make a bowl of instant oatmeal, and it exploded all over the microwave. There is nothing to do but apologize and laugh, and get on with it.

I had expressed an interest in French cooking, so tonight I was invited to help prepare a traditional French dessert consisting of meringue and vanilla custard.  Its name translates to “eggs on snow.”  In their discussions about my helping, the crew said they have confidence in my cooking skills because I am “already a wife and must have been cooking for my husband for a long time,” so they’re sure I can handle it.  But I notice they did not offer to let me help with the main course (haha!).  The dessert-making goes well, but I don’t possess the culinary talent of deftly swishing two spoons over each other to make perfect little shapes out of the meringue (it’s hard to explain).  There was a small audience for this, and lots of laughing. But I must have done okay, because the cook promises that later in the week we can make something with chocolate.  This simple domestic activity has helped to preserve my sanity today!

At the beginning of this blog, I purposely had not described the vessels we were using, in order to protect their locations, since they are military vessels.  Since they have now moved on to their next missions or are transiting, I am sharing their photos below. Week 1 was spent aboard the 59-meter hydrographic ship LAPLACE(following these links will take you out of the blog, so you will need to hit the Back button to return). Laplace is beautifully equipped for oceanographic survey and mapping.  Its usual missions are mapping the French coast.

LAPLACE

ANTARES

STYX

Monday, June 4

Today I will attempt to describe the hideousness that is an angry North Sea, particularly when you are on a very small ship that is not meant to work in the deeper waters offshore.  I don’t think there is a single one of us who has escaped feeling the effects of literally being pounded into one wave after the next. The sea state is a “5”, meaning there are 20+ knot winds and waves of about 4 meters.  We are tossed about, and two people are feeling so crummy that they are lying down outside on the aft deck. The XO has assigned someone to check on them periodically to make sure they are still with us and did not fall overboard. We are getting our butts kicked by Mother Nature once again, and have no chance of winning.  In my brief check on the status of my team of two (the ones lying out on the deck), another crew member runs out the door to the stern and bends over the rail.  I feel so bad for everyone, as they are not used to working in heavy seas. I feel particularly bad for the cook, who wasn’t well and had to continue producing meals for 25 people, while boiling huge pots of water that sloshed about, and with the smell of food permeating the air. Maybe it’s because I have already been out here for two weeks, but I have been spared the seasickness. I will count my blessings and try to keep everyone’s morale up as best I can. 

The forecast for the next two days is not good, with the sea state reaching a “6” (4-6 meter waves and very rough seas) by tomorrow.  We talk about heading inshore to the shelter of Flamborough Head, which we have done on previous expeditions.  It seems like an eternity (only a few hours) until we are granted permission from the British authorities to anchor near the shore for the night.  Our companion vessel, STYX, is about 10 hours behind us in the transit, as they had engine trouble in port and had to wait for the next tide in order to sail.  Based on our terrible transiting experience, they chose the inshore route and had a much more comfortable ride up to Flamborough Head, where they moored next to us for the night.  We will travel together to the survey area in the morning, and hope that conditions allow us to continue the survey.  A good night’s sleep should do everyone good.

Our week ended a bit early, with a port call Thursday-Monday, so we are in England for the weekend.  Week 2 did not go as smoothly as the first week, but we managed to get some good work done. The sonar system was down the first three days, but valiant attempts by the crew to repair it paid off, and we covered about 13 nautical miles of seabed.  We do not have any spectacular targets, but there is one that is very intriguing – not in that it’s the BHR, but we have no idea what it is.  On the sonar, it appears as two perfect large white rings, almost intertwined, and each one is 12 meters in diameter, and about 3 meters thick.  The sonar experts pronounced it “bizarre.”  It is within diving depths, so we may check it out. I could not get a good screen capture of it, but hopefully will this week and will share it with you.

I am feeling a little bruised and battered from fighting the movements of the ship in the swells, and trying to constantly maintain balance, but not always succeeding. My daily commute is transfer by zodiac from one vessel to another in order to watch the sonar data coming in, and then going back to the other ship in the evening to see the results from diving and AUV operations. I’m getting to be an expert at putting on the bulky orange jumpsuit that’s needed for protection against cold and waves during the transfers. I continue to be impressed with the efficiency of the French Navy – launching and recovering the zodiac takes about 4 minutes, and they do it several times a day.  The divers operate out of zodiacs as well, and each dive takes 4-6 divers in the boat who each get a ten-minute dive.  It is an easier process than I thought and again, very efficient.

Morale was getting a little lower than normal with the heavy swells and difficulty sleeping, and everyone was working very hard, so….it was time for a barbeque on deck with sausages, lamb chops, pasta salad, melon, appetizers, and ice cream bars for dessert.  The Captain and several crew members from the sonar ship came over to join us as well.

Next week I’ll be living on the small sonar ship, since I spent this week on the dive support ship, and I want to get a feel for all operations, and get to know as much of the crew as possible.  This mission is unusual for all involved, because they usually conduct missions for 2-3 days, and stay a lot closer to home in Brest, FR.  It’s just another very special aspect of this adventure!

We begin Part 2 of the survey after a very brief night in port.  It is still beautifully sunny and warm here, so the weather gods are being kind. I hear the vessels we’ll be on this week tend to bounce around a bit, so we are keeping our fingers crossed. We end Week 1 with the following stats.  After having noted more than 1100 potential targets, we have narrowed them down (a target can be as simple as a lone boulder on the seabed) and prioritized them according to grades, just like in school.  There are 8 “A” targets, 22 “B” targets, and 45 “C” targets. I do a lot of expectation management, because people tend to get excited thinking that one of the “A” targets has got to be BHR.  But it’s all relative, and the “A”s mean that these were the best out of all of the targets, but still may not shout “Shipwreck”.  For example, here’s an “A”.  The horizontal lines, the size, and the object near the bottom are unusual features of the seabed in this area.

Here’s a “C” target that’s likely a couple of boulders, but still is different than the surrounding seabed.  The blue lines are 10 meters apart and we use them for measuring.

We’ll head out this morning to our two ships, have a meeting to get everyone on the same page, and then the crews will be eager to get to work. The ship we used last week has already been in contact and is handing over data to these two who will carry on the mission, so once again it is great to see the communication and organization of the folks involved. I’ll post again next weekend and hopefully will have some interesting news from our divers and AUV team.