Flamingo on the Bow of the Ron Brown During Our Last Sunset After finishing our CTD survey line, there were very few operations left on the PNE 2021 cruise: we had another moored buoy to deploy at 15° North and a few Argo floats left. Suddenly, gone were the 12-hour shifts, the dancing and listening to music while collecting water samples- all replaced by another 2-week transit. While we transit, I find myself desperately trying to hold on to time, but it seems to slip through my fingers. The days are flying by and I know I’m going to be stepping back on land in Key West in the blink of an eye. That’s not to say that I don’t miss land – there’s a pretty lengthy list of things I’m really excited to do once back on solid ground, but there is something profoundly grounding about being offshore. I’ve struggled to write about what being offshore means to me – and with the Equator Crossing Ceremony, I think I’ve finally started to understand what I find so intoxicating about spending time in remote parts of the ocean: I feel connected to Earth. When standing on a deck that is rolling with the motion of 10-foot swells passing from one side of an ocean to another, it feels impossible not to feel connected to nature and the forces that drive geological processes that span millennia. I also find myself centered when standing under a sky full of stars, navigating whichever urban/suburban/pelagic world I currently occupy through my proximity to Orion’s Belt– another reminder that life is both wonderful and insignificant in the context of the Universe. When hanging in the balance between an ocean so powerful and a night sky so vast, it’s easy to let the unimportant stresses of life fall away. This is why I chase offshore adventures. However, in light of how huge and boundless the oceans and space may seem, the more I reflect on them, the more I understand how we are impacting our immediate ecosystem. We litter our upper atmosphere with debris from space exploration and dirty our oceans with plastic pollution, chemical pollution, ocean acidification, derelict fishing gear…the list goes on. And while it’s easy succumb to feeling dejected about what’s going on our beautiful life-supporting planet, I have had to remind myself that the reason I’m on this cruise is to help diagnose some of the problems associated with climate change. By participating in this oceanography-research cruise I am helping to collect data that are part of a multi-year time series, allowing scientists to see more or less in real time what is happening in our oceans as the atmosphere changes. I find myself balking at the fact that I’ve been at sea for 6 weeks – it feels like just a couple days ago that I hopped on the Ron Brown in Miami Beach – and yet, I also feel like I know my shipmates like an extended family. We’ve shared laughs, work, meals, and some very tippy swells, but as our time draws to a close, I’m reminded of disembarking from the Maersk Launcher in Hawaii: feeling slightly adrift in the world – untethered and yet excited about what comes next. For my last research cruise the “what comes next” was the All Hands On Deck NOAA Ocean Exploration Forum, and of course the analysis of my master’s research. What awaits me on shore in South Florida is my first full-time job as a marine biologist! And a world still navigating the throes of a pandemic and vaccine distribution. Saying Goodbye to the Ron Brown in Key West
1 Comment
3/3/2021 10:36:30 am
Beautiful, Bree!!! Makes me missing being out at sea :(
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AuthorBree Gibbs, here. I'm a recent Master's Grad just trying to share what it's like to be a trash scientist (for those who aren't in the know, I'm a marine biologist). Categories
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