Archive of Spotlight Feature Articles

Rocked by Mother Ocean

By Paula Keener-Chavis

Here I am again on business travel, flying some 30,000 feet above sea level, locked in the pressurized compartment of an airplane, peering down out of a small window on the aquamarine blue Atlantic Ocean. I spend a lot of time up here, despite the fact that my passion as a marine biologist lies 180 degrees in the other direction – way in the other direction...like some several thousand feet below sea level at the bottom of the ocean.

My mind drifts back to an August morning as I peered out the view port of yet another small, pressurized compartment - the Harbor Branch Oceanographic Institution's (HBOI's) tiny Johnson-Sea Link II submersible - as I made my first dive to explore the depths of the Atlantic Ocean. In my mind, I'm there again, on the back deck of HBOI's research vessel Seward Johnson getting ready to enter the tiny circular hatch on the underside of the submersible. Awestruck, excited, nervous, and scared to death, I welcome my first chance to 'fly' in a submersible to a part of our natural world few have experienced...the extreme environment of our deep, dark ocean.

The compartment is small and egg-shaped, about three and a half feet wide by seven feet long. I climb in and sit in the back, near the equipment in a contest with us to scrub the air clean of carbon dioxide we exhale. I feel the warm air blowing in on my back as I take my seat on the padded floor. I notice that there is no "Fasten Seat Belt" sign above my head, and I know, without a doubt I am not free to move about the cabin. Another passenger climbs up through the lower hatch. He is the aft observation compartment tender and my companion over the next three to four hours as he monitors the depth, temperature, and quality of air inside the back compartment. I'm glad he's here. Two other passengers, the pilot and the chief scientist, are in the front sphere of the submersible and I speak with them briefly via the mike on the headset I'd been given.

I pay strict attention as the tender reviews the safety and emergency ascent procedures. I admit now that I was more glued to those instructions than to the safety instructions at the beginning of my airplane flight, but I've flown so many times, and never before was I on the verge of mission to the seafloor. There is enough air and food for a survival period of five days in the unlikely event of an emergency, says the submersible's pilot. I think about my 6 year-old son back in South Carolina. "Are you claustrophobic?" the pilot asks. "No," I answer bravely as he pulls the hatch up and gives the latch several strong turns. A strange feeling races though me as the hatch door closes with a "thunk." Breathe slowly, deeply, slowly, deeply, I think over and over to myself.

I feel vibrations and hear muffled high-pitched sounds as the submersible is connected to the line that will lift us from the submersible cradle and over the stern of the research vessel. There is a slight jolt, then gentle rocking as we are slowly lowered to the surface of the Atlantic. Then we are set free to slowly fall to the bottom of the ocean. I lay on my right side with my steno pad and pen in hand, my head bent down to look through the starboard view port. The submersible is slowly swallowed by the ocean and the world as I know it is fading. I see crystal clear water and tiny bubbles through the view port.

In seconds, I know the true meaning of 'aquamarine.' As the submersible descends to an area of the ocean floor not previously seen by human eyes, the aquamarine color morphs into a remarkable blue, unlike any I've seen before. It seems timeless, eternal, with no beginning or end. At 1,629 feet, the water is the color of the night sky during a new moon - a deep, dark midnight blackish blue. I begin to see tiny flashes of light through the view port, like petite falling stars, except they are moving up as I continue down to the seafloor. A few tiny gelatinous and bioluminescent organisms move sideways across the view port in a magnificent light dance as if they are welcoming me to their ocean realm. It's breathtaking.

After 20 minutes of what seems like 'free fall,' we reach the ocean bottom at 2,347 feet. Suddenly there is 35 feet of visibility created by 2,910-watt shower of light from the submersible. The pilot takes us west against a light current, and the beauty of the world below is illuminated in bright colors and fascinating shapes. Over there, beautiful sponges, and there, deep-sea corals. An occasional crab or fish goes by as we begin a slow climb up from the base of a 387-foot coral pinnacle.

Chief Scientist, Dr. Shirley Pomponi, asks the pilot (her husband) Don Liberatore to collect samples with the submersible's manipulator arm and suction device. I take notes as her voice come through my headset to describe in detail the specimens being collected, the depth, and a general description of the area. White cup sponges, corals, and another sponge known to produce a large number of bioactive compounds are gently scooped up by the manipulator arm and carefully placed in rotating sample collection buckets. Some of the natural compounds found in sponges and corals have already been tested as anti-cancer agents in the growing list of medicines from the sea, and we will seek additional ones out as part of this collection.

My body gently tilts forward as the submersible noses down to collect samples tucked away in crevices and sequestered under rock ledges. Sample No. 5 is placed in collecting bucket No. 6 as the sample collection ritual continues. The specimens will tell us more about ecosystems in this part of the ocean.

The words "beautiful," "soft," "encrusting," "porous," "abundant," and "irregular" are adjectives Pomponi uses to describe what she sees. I see the rare and endangered bright orange "black coral" out of the portside view port just as I realized that the right half of the submersible was suspended over the top of the ridge plateau, and the other half was over the abyssal blackness of the steep drop-off created by the ridge wall. We cruise the edge of the ridge at a depth of 2,060 feet. Through the view port to my right I see beautiful corals and sponges that dot the coral rubble, through the left view port there is only a black void.

The current picks up to almost a knot. It bumps the submersible against the rocky ledge. Over the speaker I hear the pilot call to the Seward Johnson, "We are at 2,059 feet, we have completed collections, and we request permission to leave the bottom." A scratchy voice comes back over the radio, the pilot replies, "I cannot copy you. We are leaving the bottom."

It's like the slow dawning of a cold day....the blackness of the ocean's night slowly changing to the early morning mid-depth sky. The tiny graceful creatures replay their bioluminescence dance and the deep aquamarine color reappears and slowly becomes the crystal clear blue water. Then it seems to boil with thousands of tiny air bubbles just before the submersible gently cradles us as we are rocked at the surface by Mother Ocean. It's been three hours and 35 minutes since I left the surface, and returned home.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we have been cleared for landing. The Captain has asked that you remain seated and return your tray tables and seatbacks to their upright positions. We will be landing in approximately 10 minutes." I feel the jar of the airplane's landing gear and out my tiny window, although larger than the viewport of the submersible, I see land quickly rising up under us. As a scientist, I see that land as a tiny three percent of the Earth's biosphere or living space - that portion between the ocean's surface and the top of our atmosphere in which humans live and mostly rule. But I've had the chance to visit a small part of the other 97 percent. I've been to the deep and still mysterious ocean, from where life came, and where the wonders I saw made me more enlightened, invigorated, liberated, humbled, and yes, more passionate about the ocean, than I ever dreamed I could be.

Paula Keener-Chavis is a Marine Biologist and the National Education Coordinator for NOAA's Office of Ocean Exploration. To experience her voyage of discovery and others, visit oceanexplorer.noaa.gov and click on explorations.

[5/3/04]

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