A Little Back-Story

Note:Before I start writing about my latest expedition on the high seas, I thought some of you might want to read a little background. So, I have re-posted my blog from a little over a year ago.

I Don't Love the Ocean, I love the Coast (Part 1)

3 March 2009, 0900 hrs

I get on the plane to Honolulu in about 2 hours. A lot of people have ooohed and awwwed over this trip and and sarcastically told how tough a job a had traveling to places like Austrailia, Hawaii, Japan, and so on; but they don't get it. I have one free day in Hawaii, then it's working 12 hour shifts the next 5 days, until we leave port. At that point, it's nothing but open ocean for 58 days. I'd say the Hawaii trip is not worth it. I work for the Integrated Ocean Drilling Program. We operate a 471 foot research drill ship named the JOIDES Resolution. We call it the JR for short. We go to sea for two months at a time, with a collection of scientist, technicians, engineers, rough necks, drill crew and ships crew of many different nationalities. My time has come to embark on expedition 320.

To try and keep my sanity, I decided to try to take my guitar along, maybe write some new songs, or finish up some old ones that have been on the shelf for far to long. Then I looked into the excess size baggage fees. It would coast me about $150 dollars each way, plus the cost of a hard case at around $150 to carry my guitar along for the trip. I thought of buying a new guitar in Hawaii to leave on the ship, but I am scheduled to sail on our sister research ship, the Chikyu, later in the year. I can't afford to buy a guitar for every ship, so I searched the internet for travel guitars that would qualify as carry on items. I found the Travelers Escape MKII from Traveler Guitars and picked it up at Guitar Center in Houston. As described on the Traveler web site:

"the new MK-II also boasts a custom Element-Hybrid pickup system from none other than the industry’s leading pickup innovator, L.R. Baggs. All three models come equipped with the system which has on board electronics with a 2-band EQ, a built in headphone amplifier, and like all Travelers, the ability to be plugged directly into a traditional amplifier for live applications."

I have to say I'm pretty pleased so far, it sounds good on the headphones, and is quiet so I can play it in my stateroom with out bothering the next door neighbor. We'll have to see if it passes security and boarding requirements as advertised.

We are running a little late as normal for us, so breakfast is aborted maybe we can grab something at the airport if we hurry.


3 March 2009, 1000 hrs
We arrived at the airport, security is open but I am waiting until the last minute to go through so I can spend more time with the family. The bar and grill place isn't open yet, so no breakfast here. I am a nervous flyer so I was thinking of have a few drinks, but I'll just have to tough it out. It looks like a jet instead of the Sabe turboprop I'm used to flying from College Station to Dallas, so it should be a little smoother ride than normal. I'm still nervous and still don't want to go away for two months.

3 March 2009, 1050 hrs
It was a smooth flight up to DFW, I deplaned right next to the airport train and the train drops us right next to my departure gate for Honolulu. A couple of co-works and I stopped into a bar and grill for lunch. Our waitress, Shannon was too happy not to be on some kind of medication and while I guess she was trying to get a good tip, it kind of put me into the other direction. It's not that I'm not happy so I don't want anyone else to be happy, but maybe it is and maybe she's just too over the top. Just think of the guy in "Office Space" with all the extra flair.

3 March 2009, 1215 hrs
We boarded the plane without incident, seems like this new guitar is exactly as advertised, I was able to place it in the overhead compartment. This is plane has a 2 -3-2 seat layout and it is almost 100% full. I have an aisle seat in the middle 3 section. There is a lady two rows up , who is upset about being seated next to a toddler and is being very rude about the matter. This is an eight hour flight coming and we discover that there are no complimentary snacks of any kind other soft drinks. I end up buying a $3 cookie along with what's left of my soggy club sandwich to tide me over to Hawaii. $6 beer/liquor means I will have a hefty tab at the end of the flight, but it helps me sleep.

3 March 2009, 1700 hrs, Hawaii Time
I arrive in Hawaii, straight to baggage claim and catch a ride with co-workers to the Hotel. I am crashing on my buddy Mitch's second bed, so I don't have to pay out of pocket for my extra nights stay. I saw an Irish Pub on the way in, about a block from the hotel that looks promising. I also read about a local place called "the Hide Away" that is supposed to be anything but touristy, which is exactly what I'm looking for. We start to bump into other IODP people mostly in the hotel bar, as Crawford describes, "the gathering has begun." I want to get out of the hotel as soon as possible, and away from the high prices. I think I'll take a walkabout and see what I can see. Next to the seven eleven, is the entry way to the "Irish Rose", the pub I saw on the way in. Through the door, I take a left, then up the stairs. On the inside the Irish Rose looks a little like Fitzwilly's back in College Station. Outside it looks like a rundown flop house. Wooden bar with some brass rails, flat screen TVs with different ESPNs and other sports channels playing. It's Tuesday and its movie night. "Hot Fuzz" is playing on two TVs by the bar. The bartenders are friendly from the start, it looks like most people are regulars here. There are some military folks at the bar and some long haired old surfer type guys, a group of about twenty military contractors are taking turns buying rounds and arguing over who's turn it is. There is a lady across the bar that looks an awful lot like a man. When she speaks up, my suspicions are confirmed. Nobody seems to mind anyone else, it's a laid back afternoon. The waitress asks me if I'll call her if anyone comes to the bar, while shes goes to the back. I feel welcomed as a regular from the get go. A few pints later, I need some food and I am directed to the "Smokehouse Bar and Grill" about a block further down the road. I take the stroll as a mist of rain begins. The Smokehouse is a small place, definately a locals place. It's not a hole in the wall, but not really up scale either, just simple. I order a beer and a burger and sit at the bar. Two locals are discussing some kind of medical procedure and both think they are experts in the field. It's back and forth across the bar until one of them storms out, forgetting to pay his tab. It's a great burger, then I'm off to the hotel to bed.

4 March 2009, 0700 hrs
It hard not to wake up early, I'm still on Texas time. Mitch knows a place around the corner and offers to buy breakfast. The place is an Italian Restaurant at night, in the morning there is a lady on the sidewalk selling breads and pizza by the slice to construction workers on their way to the job. She calls inside on a cell phone to place our orders for the $4 breakfast. Two eggs, bacon or sausage, french toast and hash browns. We eat at a small table on the side walk, before heading our separate ways . Mitch to work and me to look around.

I decide my best time spent is a trip to the USS Arizona Memorial. The hotel vale, puts me on the list for a $12 shuttle to Pearl Harbor. I stop to shop for an Aloha shirt in one of the tourist shops because the shirt I'm wearing looks ridiculous with the shorts I have on. The fact that I notice this is testament to how truly bad it looks. There are racks and racks of $17 shirts. I ask about a red flowery one. She lets me know that the red flowerdy ones are quite a bit more expensive at $59. She have to explain as she points to a picture of Tom Selleck wearing a replica shirt above the rack. When we arrive at the Arizona Memorial visitors center, I am told that we cannot bring any bags into the facility due to security threats. I have to pay $3 to store my small camera bag, which is probably not even worth that much. I wonder why the camera is allowed, since it is as big as the bag and could hold explosives as well, but I dare not mention this, I know it can get you in trouble as silly as it sounds.



The visitors center holds a tiny museum, that you can go through in about 10 minutes, it also has a book store and snack shop, but it's true purpose is a place to hold you while you wait the hour for your turn to visit the memorial. When my group number is called, we all file into a movie theater for a 15 minute film on the bombing of Pearl Harbor and the history of the memorial. Then it's onto a boat to shuttle you to the memorial. It takes maybe 5 minutes to reach the site, and we are instructed to remain quite at all times and are reminded that this is a tomb. The memorial is kind of a bridge from nowhere to nowhere that spans the wreck below. Only one round gun turret base is exposed above the water. I can see a small oil slick on the waters surface as it slowly seeps from the ship below. The mood reminds me of my first visit to the Alamo. I am awed by the sacrifice of these men and so proud to be an American.

4 March 2009, 1530 hrs
Back at the hotel, I find that we do not get ESPNU. So, I'm off to the Irish Rose again to watch the Aggie basketball game versus Colorado. The Aggies pretty much have to win the rest of their games to make it to the NCAA tournament. The waitress ate the Irish Rose tells me she sure they do have ESPNU , but isn't sure how to get it turned on one of the TVs. She embarks on a mission and after about 15 minutes of phone calls and trips to the back room, she has the game on a TV for me and even turns the volume up where I can hear it. Aggies look good for a while, then flounder, then pull the win off in the end. All is good and a cover band start at the Irish Rose.

5 March 2009, 1200 hrs
The bus is due at the Hotel to shuttle ongoing personnel to the JR. I start to feel that sick feeling in my stomach as we we wait in the lobby, the felling increases as I load my belongings into the storage at the bottom of the bus. 15 minutes later we are on the dock. 1 hour later we are still on the dock, I flash back to my military time and the hurry up and wait system. Customs has yet to release the off going crew. Some would be photographers are reprimanded by port security, on authorized photographers are allowed to take pictures due to security concerns. Those on the ship seem to be immune to this rule. A few of the crew are standing on the wrong side of a blue line and are order back across. I wish I had grabbed some lunch, the galley is closed by now and we are not even on board yet.

5 March 2009, 1330 hrs
We are allowed to board and the crossover begins. I find my room and roommate. He is a little too elderly to climb up on the top bunk, so that's where I will sleep. His job requires him to work 6am to 6 pm shift, so I will need to work 6pm to 6 am, if we want privacy. I fight to keep a positive outlook. One trip up the flight of stairs to the operations office and I am needing oxygen. It feels like this is going to be a long expedition.

I Don't Love the Ocean, I love the Coast (Part 2)

or "I feel like Hell in Paradise"

---

5 March 2009, 18:20 hrs

Mitch drops by the operations office located on the bridge deck of the JOIDES Resolution to ask if I'm about ready to have a beer. Being the sociable guy I am, we are off to the crossover party in Mitch's rental car.

In the olden days, usually on the evening of the day when the two crews change out (also know as crossover) the powers that be would give a little party at a local watering hole and too often times more touristy type establishments. Free drinks would normally flow for an hour or two, maybe longer depending on the port and corresponding drink prices. Certain non-government funds were used for this and other things like the annual Holiday (formerly known as Christmas) party. Then new management came along and nixed the use of these funds for alcohol purchases. It was/is my understandings that there would then be no more crossover parties, but somehow, someone came up with some money and voilà, crossover party. Whether they continue in the future, who knows. Times are changing.

Crossover parties can be held at places from dive bars to fancy restaurants depending on who is in charge of them. In this case, the gathering is at "Cheeseburger Waikiki", a touristy tiki hut bar place that is apparently part of a Hawaiian chain called "Cheeseburger Restaurants." It's a patio style place with the plastic walls that roll down when the weather's bad. Waitresses wear grass skirts and push Mai Tai drinks with pineapple slices and little umbrella toothpicks. Now I like palm trees, and grass huts and all that, but not the Disneyland version, so this was pretty much the exact opposite of my kinda place. Did I mention free drinks?

When Mitch and I arrive our private patio area is already pretty full, but I find a seat. About 15 minutes later a grass skirted waitress stops by to take my drink order. I always try to sample the local brew where ever I travel. This is no exception.There are several local beers from the Kona Brewing Company on the menu. I pick the Longboard Lager. Another 15 minutes pass before she returns with my beer. I try to order a $12 cheeseburger at this point, but she hurries away before I can speak. At least 20 more minutes pass before I can get her attention and order a second beer. She turns away before I can place a food order, luckily my friend blocks her path. I place the order as she scribbles on on a notepad completely full of drink and food orders for our section. I see that she writes the burger down, but without any indication of where I am sitting . I wonder if she has any intention to bring me a beer or a cheeseburger. Forty minutes later no beer and no cheeseburger. Apparently the management felt like two wait staff was plenty to handle the expected 50 to 75 people. I decide to go to the bar and order for myself. I walk up just as one of my co-workers is being asked to leave the dining room. The waitress tells her that we must stay in our reserved area. I'm beginning to wonder if we are being held against our will and really starting to get ticked off. I walk back to the entrance of our patio and stand there with some other guys who have figured out the system. As soon as a waitress walks into our area with a tray of drinks, she asks who ordered a such and such drink. The trick is, no matter what you ordered, if you are willing to drink what she's carrying, just speak up. I get a couple of beers this way, but I am hungry. Now three pints and 90 minutes after ordering my cheeseburger, I've had a enough. I gather up Mitch and my friend Eric and we are off and around the block.

5 March 2009, 2115 hrs

The Irish Rose is quite full, but everyone is as friendly as before. Tonight the bartender is truly Irish judging by his accent. The band is just starting to play. They are a cover band and start off with the Toadies' "Possum Kingdom", which takes me home to Texas for a bit. We are sitting at the bar, Mitch is next to a "No Smoking" sign that also points out that it is illegal to smoke inside, under Hawaiian law. He pulls out a cigarette and asks the bartender for an ash tray. The bartender walks, by places an ash tray in front of Mitch and says, "It's Illegal to Smoke", then walks away. As Mitch lights his cigarette, the band starts playing Cheap Trick's "Surrender". I make a failed attempt not to sing along. While reading a flier advertising the bar's tricycle races posted on the side of the taps, I glance up to see that they have some kind of pear cider on tap, so I order a snake bite. Cider goes in first and then Guinness is layered on top, which creates a good mix of bitter and sweet. After my first snakebite, Mitch orders one, then I notice a couple of others have ordered some from across the bar. Mitch remarks that I have started something. The band plays a Stevie Ray Vaughn song. I feel like the snake bite, bittersweet. It's a great hangout, the people are friendly, the weather suits my style, but I'm too far from home, with a long journey ahead of me.

I Don't Love the Ocean, I love the Coast (Part 3)

Leaving Paradise?

6 March 2009, 0530 hrs
I slept on Mitch's spare bed at the hotel rather than try to get an expensive cab back to the ship after the party and after our visit to the Irish Rose. The company probably would have reimbursed me for the cab since I was attending an IODP function, but this was easier anyway. There is no time for the $4 breakfast this morning, so I ask Mitch if we can hit a 7-11 or something on the way to the port. I have to get at least a diet coke in me, if I'm gonna be any account today at all. The coke fountain on the ship is not working yet.

We set Mitch's GPS to the nearest convenience store, which looks like it's a block away, but it seems to direct us over much of the island before leading us to a 7-11 just outside of Honolulu's China Town. China town is full of small shops and neighborhood restaurants. I can see fresh flowers in many of the windows and most have fresh leis for sale. I wish I had more time so I could visit this area.

We arrive back at the ship and I'm on board a little late for my shift, but before my boss arrives so I guess it's OK. We spend most of the day crossing over. He shows me the new layout of the ship, which is quite confusing if you've been on previous expeditions. The JR has been in the ship yard for about two years undergoing a refit. The bridge and what we call the hotel structure (quarters, galley, etc) plus the lab stack, have been removed and replaced with new facilities. The ship yard built these structures on land, then lifted the whole section onto the hull with giant cranes. The drilling derrick was removed and refurbished before being being re-installed on the ship as well. The drill floor aft is familiar, but forward I get lost. I think it would be easier finding my way around, had I never been on the JR before.

My primary purpose for being on this expedition is introducing new downhole temperature tools that our engineering group has developed during our hiatus from drilling. We send these dataloggers to the bottom of the hole and a little deeper to get an insitu temperature measurement. Our most common form of coring is APC (Advanced Piston Coring) which is like a 9 meter deep cookie cutter (or a pipe with a sharp end) that is shot into the mud and retrieved. One of temperature tools, the APCT3, is built cylindrically so that it fits into the wall of the APC cutting shoe. This way we get temperature measurement, plus a core on the same core line run. These can take up to an hour depending on water depth and on our expedition we have water depths near 5,000 meters. When the sediments get to hard for APC coring, we use a small drill bit to get core. In these cases we use a temperature tool called the SET (Sediment Temperature). The SET looks like a giant pencil or a spear with a temperature probe build into the tip. This tool is pushed into the bottom of the hole about 1 meter,but it requires a complete trip down the drill string without getting a core.

During the crossover, I am informed that I will also be working on our Rig Instrumentation System (RIS). We have had a similar RIS in the past, but this is a new installation, with mostly new sensors and and completely new data acquisition system. The RIS, monitors and records such information as weight of the drill string, torque and speed of the top drive (giant motor that turns the drill string), pressure of the pumps that push drilling mud down the drill string to firm up the hole we drill, depth of the bit and depth of the coring tools. My responsibility for this system is news to me.

10 March 2009, 1100 hrs
The last 5 days I have been working on RIS problems and general crossover duties. The ship has been loading supplies and tools while various vendors work on equipment such as the elevator and the coke fountain. Coring operations absolutely require an elevator under the new ship layout, because the core samples must be moved from level to level during processing ending up several floors down in the ships hold in a refrigeration unit. Up until now the elevator has had many problems. There is a sign on one of the doors that warns to verify the presence of the elevator before entering. My concern is with the coke machine. Two months without a coke would cause me great distress. At one point the Coast Guard shuts down our loading operation because we have gas cylinders, which are not allowed to be loaded at this dock. Some of these gas cylinders is the CO2 bottles for the coke fountain. I'm not leaving port without them. After an hour of discussions, we are allowed to proceed loading gas bottle with a waiver for 24 hours. One of the vendors conspicuously missing from this port call is the RIS contractor. I am becoming painfully aware of the fact that this system is not operational as advertised.

Now, I am at the Salvation army store just across the street from Target. I have been to Target almost every day of the port call, buying last minute items like clothes, chocolate, potato chips, coffee, usb drives, batteries, extra pillow, sheet and blanket. The only cover supplied in my cabin is a thick comforter that looks more like a Japanese futon mattress than a cover. I am either hot or cold with that thing, so I bought my own. We have plenty of food on board , but not snack food, so the chips and chocolate. I realize after all this, that I don't have enough t-shirts or a single long sleeves shirt to work in, so that's why I'm at Salvation Army. There are racks and racks of Aloha shirts for about $4 each. These are the flowerdy Hawaiian shirts. I can pick some of them up on the way back home, but right now I need t-shirts. I pickup several for $2 each, one says "FBI Hawaii" two are Harley shirts and the fourth is a Hawaii Community Church shirt. The clerk is an older gentleman about 60, who seems to be annoyed that I am shopping there. Next door is the Salvation Army shelter, so there are many homeless people roaming around outside. There is liquor sold in every convenience store, grocery store, etc., but not at the Target across the street. I am told that it is because of the street people near by.

Shore leave ends at 1400 hrs today and the ship is scheduled to depart at 1500 hrs. I meet up with the other Target shoppers from our crew and we head towards the port, but with a major stop along the way. Sam Choy's Breakfast Lunch and Crab is our last point of civilization, last meal off the ship and last beer for a long while. We sit in what looks like a fishing boat mock up and I'm on the transom with no back rest. Just where I want to be, on a boat , before I have to be on a boat. I have the "Da Lava Burger", crab cake, one half pound certified Angus beef and cheese for $14.95 and it's not that great. Add in two, brewed on site, Kakaako Cream Ale pints to make it a $25 lunch, but like I said it's the last for a long time.

A group of us were in Sam Choy's bar last night and the night before. It's hidden in a small room to the far left of the restaurant and I much prefer it over the fishing boat. This is a brew pub and facing away from the bar you can see the big copper brewing pots. The brewery named the Big Aloha Brewing Company, sells five handcrafted beers brewed on premises:Kakaako Cream Ale,Ehu Ale,Hefe-Weizen, Kiawe Honey Porter and James Cook Indian Pale Ale. Both nights I purchased a sampler platter with 5 ounces of each beer for about $8. All were excellent beers ranging from light to very dark. Tuesday night, the last night in port, we added a few tropical drinks to our tab. I figured, you can't come to Hawaii without having a MaiTai. I guess I started something again, cause the girls had to have one. Then someone ordered a Mango Mojito and it looked so refreshing with the mint leaves sticking out the top, that I was compelled to try one myself. Luckily, Sam Choy's closes at 10:00 pm so we were on our way back to the ship before any real damage was done. The only injuries I am aware of are a few small skin punctures from a tiny plastic drink sword fight that broke out somewhere between the guard shack and the JR.

10 March 2009, 1330 hrs
Me and my shopping expedition are back on the ship, with time to spare. Preparations for departure are underway and I'm starting to get butterflies in my stomach. Last minute discussions take place with those people who are not sailing, some of them will be crossing over with us at the next port call, others are only here for this port call. Someone says, "See you on the other side." I wonder if they mean the other side of this expedition or the after life. The butterflies are stirring more. The announcement comes, "All ashore that's going ashore." I think for a while about going ashore and calling it quits. But then I think of the bills piling up and somehow, my will power kicks in just enough and I change my focus to other things.

10 March 2009, 1420 hrs
Most of the scientist and technicians have gathered on the top of the bridge awaiting our departure. Pictures are taken of the mountains behind Waikiki and pictures are taken of the people waiting down on the dock to wave goodbye and of the line handlers and of the tug boats that are approaching to haul us away. The captain is walking around in front of and on the wings of the bridge with a hand held radio, giving commands to the ships crew. Crew busy themselves near the spring lines. Nervous excitement abounds among the scientist. They act as if they are going off to summer camp. You can see that many have made new friends and a few seem to be already on the path to new romantic relationships, if only for the two months. The crane engine starts up and shortly later begins to raise it's boom. The cable is lowered to the gangway. The crew attach the cables and are busy with the pins that attach the gangway to the JR. The cable is pulled taught and all are aboard. The crane engine races a bit, the pins are pulled and the gangway jumps free. As it is raised to it's stowage place on deck, I feel a sickness in my stomach. There is no turning back now, lest I jump. The tug boat engines rev a bit pushing the JR closer to the dock. Line handlers throw the lines into the water as ships crew pull them in.

10 March 2009, 1500 hrs
Last lines are off. The tugs are pulling us away from the dock. As we get further into the harbor, we can see Diamond Head through two building, which the locals call the twin paper clips. Just outside the harbor we can see the resorts and beaches and water front restaurants. The tugs are still guiding us along as we clear the channel markers into open water. The JR drops the tug lines and we are on our own. A few miles off shore and maybe four mile south of Honolulu Harbor, we turn into the wind and slow the screws until we are at a dead stop. We are waiting for a boat, which looks like a converted amphibious landing craft, to come along side. Mitch is on board this craft directing the transfer of our radioactive sources that we use in some of the downhole logging tools. Because of the dock we used, we were not allowed to load radioactive material there. This is the best alternative. The crane lowers a basket called a Billy Pugh to the smaller boat. The cargo is placed inside and lifted aboard. The landing craft turns toward Honolulu as Mitch waves goodbye. We start forward again and turn to the southwest. Many pictures are taken. Some folks ask if I will take their picture with Diamond Head in the background. I take a series of photos that I will stitch together into a panorama of Waikiki Beach and Diamond Head.

The overall mood is jovial. My mood is restrained. Honolulu looks much prettier from out here than it does amongst the tall buildings. I am told Kauai is the island to visit; no tall building. In a few hours there will be no land in sight. I am discussing twitter with our education outreach person. She is trying to use a lot of internet resources to get the message out. We still have cell phone coverage so I show her that you can send twitter update via text message. She asks me to make sure I include the JR in my tweet. I only want to get my thoughts out there so maybe they don't eat me up from inside. I pull out my cell phone and text to 40404.

"As diamond head shrinks in the distance, the swell rises beneath the JOIDES Resolution, my long journey begins."