The Beast

The raft. Mentally, I named it the Beast. It was a 15-person raft, about 11 feet in diameter, a black

Explore the ocean in August with Melissa
and the Corps of Exploration.

Follow the adventure here in
the GSCCC blog and at NautilusLive.org

and orange monstrosity of plastic and rubber and fabric, about a hundred and fifty pounds dry, with a tall peaked roof. We had been in the pool for two and half hours, performing various tests in survival suits, with life vests, and in just our bathing suits. We had thrown life rings and monkey fists across the pool, we had practiced reeling in our partners using the life ring, tying bowline knots poolside and in the water, and even done a float test. The Beast was all that stood between us and our certificates, and it was huge.

My classmates had gone through an intense week that had included firefighting and first aid/CPR classes. They were started to whisper that they had thought the firefighting day was tough, but man, this pool day was even harder!

We had run through the raft exercise indoors, on dry land, with a much smaller raft. It seemed pretty intense, but do-able. One of the bigger challenges was getting team members to remember the sequence: partner holds the painter (line tied to the raft) and then tosses the painter across the raft to you; you pull, pull, pull on the line while the team works to lift the raft and empty the ballast tanks; when the raft reaches a perpendicular position to the water, yell, “Clear,” and wait for the team to clear the area; complete the flip of the raft, and immediately call, “Sound off!”; team members count off their assigned numbers, and once you are sure everyone is safe (and no one is trapped beneath the raft), move to flip it back over to right it. Hand the painter to another member of the team; move to the Jacob’s ladder, mounted to the underside of the raft, now facing the sky; climb on top of the raft, hold on to the Jacob’s ladder, and position your feet to be able to apply leverage with your body weight once the raft starts to lift from the water; “ride” the raft as it flips, being sure not to get caught underneath (difficult to escape with a life vest on!); again, call “Sound off!”; team members count off their assigned numbers, and once you are sure everyone is safe, do it a total of 11 times, since there are 11 people in the class, and each person needs to practice being the leader.

It doesn't look so bad, does it? The Beast.

Lessons learned, in case you ever need to do this: quickly huddle and talk your way through it with the team. Determine who needs to be positioned where. Get your biggest guys to help flip the raft from the key position, either where the painter or the ladder attaches (depending on whether you’re flipping or righting it). Figure out who your leaders are, and tap their strength. Figure out who your weakest team members are (in a survival situation, they might be exhausted, injured, or scared), and give them a specific job (such as emptying a ballast tank while the team lifts the raft), so they don’t just flail off to the side. Sadly, I only figured this out toward the end of our exercise, once we had naturally figured it out as a team.

The first round was a disaster. Despite having our biggest and most experienced guy as the first to go, we did not have a strategy. It took us several attempts to get the raft flipped and then righted. We were gasping, thankful for our life vests, when we were done. But it was chaos. People grabbed onto the wrong part of the raft. People forgot to empty the ballast tanks. People let go at critical moments. People worked against each other. Moving through team member #2, then 3, then 4, then 5, we started to figure out the techniques that worked, where to position ourselves, who needed coaching, whose leadership skills were lacking.

Two members of the team, their time at the lead complete, had to leave for prior commitments. The class was running long. I was a little panicked because one was our biggest and most experienced person there; we needed his mass to help flip the raft and his leadership to bring this motley crew together. We were going to be down to 9 people, and this task was gargantuan for 11. And it was my turn.

My partner tossed me the painter over the peak of the roof. I caught it, and yelled to my team to get into position. With one of our biggest remaining guys alongside me, I started pulling, pulling, pulling, hand over fist. Already exhausted, I grunted and shouted. I might have called the raft a few unsavory names in my struggle. It seemed to help.

It folded like a taco, and begrudgingly started to rise from the water, coming toward me. I yelped, “Clear!” and my team moved away from my side. With a few more mighty yanks, it came down on me before I knew what had happened. I kicked hard to free myself from the raft, the buoyancy of my life vest trapping me at the surface. Another second or two, and I broke free, sucking air. “Sound off!” I cried, and when a member of my team failed to report in, I repeated it. I was frustrated because some of the team members repeatedly forgot to sound off, or even called the wrong number! But everyone was free of the raft. It was time to right it.

Finally out of the pool, certificates in hand. It felt great!

I climbed atop the raft, no easy feat. A member of the team roughly pushed me up as I struggled to climb the Jacob’s ladder. My arms felt like Jell-O after the struggle to flip the raft. For a moment, a panicked thought intruded: What if I couldn’t do this second part? What if I was too weak? Too tired?

I banished the thoughts, clutching the ladder in my hands. I heaved myself atop the raft and positioned my feet. (In the wrong spot, as it turns out) I called to the team to assure everyone was in position. And then I counted down to start. I pulled on the ladder and tried to set my body to use it for more leverage. As the raft started to rise from the water, my feet slipped and got twisted in the ladder. My #2 at my side saw this and latched on to the ladder, grunting and pulling, and adding his weight to the process. With a few more choice words from me and others, and a sudden motion, it flipped. A sound-off revealed that all were safe. We floated in the heated pool, and whispered to each other, “Can you imagine doing this at sea? With your life at stake?” and caught our breath.

We were now more than halfway through. Gasping, I shouted this out to my teammates. Only the silver-liners cheered; the others groaned. One person, then another, struggled to the edge of the pool with cramps. One guy, a smoker, was wheezing as he struggled to catch his breath. Another, a weak swimmer, dog-paddled with huge eyes filled with fear. Despite his life jacket, he was terrified.

Somehow, we made it through those last 5 rounds. By the time we were done, we were beyond exhaustion. Parts of me that I had not used in years ached. But getting that certificate, and taking a group photo with our class, was amazing and sweet.

I was so tired on the three hour drive home (made worse by heavy traffic), I was afraid I’d have an accident. And that night, and all the next day, I was so incredibly sore. My hands ached like an arthritis sufferer, no doubt from heaving on the painter and the ladder. I groaned every time I moved.

But I had survived, and not only learned techniques to help keep me safe in the case of disaster at sea, but I had also learned incredible lessons in teamwork and leadership. I had found strength in myself through the process, and practiced ways of motivating and encouraging teammates who were ready to give up.

While I hope I never have to use the former, I am glad to have acquired the latter. Teamwork and leadership are vital in so many situations; discovering wells of strength and interpersonal abilities were not on the syllabus, but this proves applicable out of class and out of the pool. I am very grateful to have had the opportunity to participate in this training, and to have joined this cohort of mariners as we discovered this together.

*****

In a couple of days, I will be returning to the E/V Nautilus, boarding in San Diego, exploring a region known as the Southern California margin. I will be blogging here on the GSCCC website, and contributing weekly columns to the Ventura County Star, in the Sunday edition. Please join me, and share your comments. And please join me through the Nautilus Live website as we explore the deep sea alongside the Corps of Exploration!

What are some things that you have done that have scared you? Did they somehow promote growth? Please share!

The above is part of a multi-part series to run over the next couple of weeks. Melissa Baffa, Vice President of Program and Volunteer Services for GSCCC, will be joining the Corps of Exploration again this year, exploring the deep sea aboard the E/V Nautilus. This blog series will chronicle her dive into the Unknown.

¸.·´¯`·.¸.·´¯`·...¸><((((º>     `·.¸¸.·´¯`·.¸.·´¯`·...¸><((((º>    `·.¸¸.·´¯`·.¸.·´¯`·...¸><((((º>  

Want to go on an adventure with me? Skip to the next blog post by clicking here.

Want to catch up on this year's adventure so far? Go back to first blog post for this season.

Want to catch up on what happened last season? Click here to start with the first post from last season.

Surviving Survival Training

Explore the ocean in August with Melissa
and the Corps of Exploration.

Follow the adventure here in
the GSCCC blog and at NautilusLive.org.

It was dark, and the sound of water splashing around in the pool beneath me reverberated throughout the indoor space. I was standing on a platform 3 meters above the surface, peering through the dim light to the water below. I was clad head to toe in a survival suit, a thick, ill-fitting wetsuit that included a hood and inflatable bladder looped around behind my back. The bladder was currently devoid of air. The hood was up, muffling all sound around me.

I shuffled forward to the edge of the platform, water sloshing noisily around my feet. I placed my left hand next to my jaw, stretching the hood away from my face, and held my right hand flat atop my head, pressing down on the hood. Failing to do so could result in rupturing my eardrums. With a deep breath, I looked ahead of me and stepped off the platform, crossing one leg behind the other at the ankle. One second, two, and SPLASH! I was in the pool, and bobbing back toward the surface.

My teammates cheered me on and I paddled toward the flashing emergency beacon about 5 meters away. I quickly inflated the air bladder using a tube attached to my chest. We huddled there together until the last member of our team joined us. Then, in the darkness, we followed the instructor’s orders barked from poolside: “Form a human snake! Now, go to help position! Now, huddle position! Now, form a human raft!” Together we worked to position ourselves and each other into the various formations we had learned about two days before. Those of us who were more clear-headed helped to coach those who were lost. The strong swimmers supported the weak. The calm soothed the anxious.

I pictured doing this at sea, among high swells, and wind, at night. Dark water stretched off in all directions, no land on the horizon, and a mistake could cost you your life and those of others. I shuddered. Practicing in an indoor pool, gently heated, calm, in the middle of Hawthorne, California was challenging enough.

Wearing the survival ("Gumby") suit.

We moved smoothly through the various challenges, survival (or “Gumby”) suits keeping us warm in the water, although incredibly buoyant and bulky and difficult to get around in. (Exiting the pool was an exercise in agility and strength all its own: the suit, when filled with water, is VERY heavy. One has to ease out of the pool and into a “plank” position, alternating raised legs, to drain all of the water out of the suit, from the opening near the chin!)

I was here at the request of the Ocean Exploration Trust, completing the pool portion of Personal Survival Techniques (PST) training, a component of the STCW (Standards of Training and Certification of Watchkeeping) training. Regulated by the International Maritime Organization (IMO), the STCW Basic Safety Training course is mandated by ALL flag States for all working seafarers, and is the international standard. OET needed some more people trained in the PST portion of this training for my leg of the expedition. Reading the course description, I got that familiar little tickle in my belly that told me, “Are you crazy? That sounds pretty intense.” So my response, naturally? “You got it! I’m in.”

I had completed the classroom portion of the training two days before, and it was a whirlwind of emergency devices and frequencies, protocols, and warnings. Through it all, I feverishly practiced my bowline knot, which our instructor assured us was vital to passing the course. As I repeatedly tied the knot, I heard the voice of the classmate who had taught it to me in my head: “The rabbit comes out of the hole, around the tree, and goes down the hole again.”

My classmates were participating in the full training, an intense week that included, in addition to the part I was enrolled in, first aid and CPR, firefighting, and more. The members were varied, from first-time cruise ship workers to experienced captains.

When we first donned the survival suits, during the classroom portion of the class, we laughed and clowned. However, playfulness quickly dissipated as claustrophobia set in. It was hot, and I started sweating almost immediately. The suit was sized for someone a little taller than me, so the zipper came right up to my chin; it would have covered the lower portion of my face if I allowed it to. The thick hood made me nearly deaf, and my hair kept wanting to creep out and into my face, blinding me. The instant we were given the direction to remove and repack our suits, I scrambled out of mine, gasping. I was more than a little nervous about spending several hours in the pool, much of it in that suit, for the remaining portion of the class. I hoped that water would help to ease the claustrophobic nature of it.

I only kind of knew what I was in for when I arrived at the pool.

And so two days later I stood, in the dark, 10 feet above the water’s surface, and ran through all the steps we’d learned about abandoning ship. The lights were off to simulate night. My heart was pounding. I had gleefully jumped off of high dives and rocks and other locations as a kid, but couldn’t remember the last time I had done such a thing. This was exciting and new, and I was tired after just a few trips across the pool, up the ladder and out. And we were just getting going! After our survival suit exercises, we would complete all the same activities with life vests. Then a timed float. And finally, the raft.

The raft. Mentally, I named it the Beast. It proved to be a much bigger challenge than I had anticipated. Read my next blog post to discover why.

 *****

In a couple of days, I will be returning to the E/V Nautilus, boarding in San Diego, and exploring a region off the coast of Southern California known as the Southern California margin. I will be blogging here on the GSCCC website, and contributing weekly columns to the Ventura County Star, in the Sunday edition. Please join me, and share your comments. And please join me through the Nautilus Live website as we explore the deep sea alongside the Corps of Exploration!

What are some things that you have done that have scared you? Did they somehow promote growth? Please share!

The above is the beginning of a multi-part series to run over the next couple of months. Melissa Baffa, Vice President of Program and Volunteer Services for GSCCC, will be joining the Corps of Exploration again this year, exploring the deep sea aboard the E/V Nautilus. This blog series will chronicle her dive into the Unknown.

¸.·´¯`·.¸.·´¯`·...¸><((((º>     `·.¸¸.·´¯`·.¸.·´¯`·...¸><((((º>    `·.¸¸.·´¯`·.¸.·´¯`·...¸><((((º>  

Want to go on an adventure with me? Skip to the next blog post by clicking here.

Want to catch up on this year's adventure so far? Go back to first blog post for this season.

Want to catch up on what happened last season?

Click here to start with the first post from last season.

An Evening with Bob Ballard

Who are your heroes? Are they sports stars? Celebrities? People you know personally, such as a favorite teacher?

The author doing a live interaction with Dr. Ballard last year.

Mine are scientists. If I could have the infamous dinner party we pretend to host as a part of “Getting to Know You” exercises, and I could only invite a handful of people, three of my guests would be scientists: Bob Ballard, Jane Goodall, and Sylvia Earle. After seeing Dr. Ballard speak in Santa Barbara last week, having the privilege of seeing him talk aboard the E/V Nautilus and in Rhode Island, and as part of his excellent TED Talk viewable online, I can tell you that the conversation around the table would no doubt be filled with gripping stories and a ton of laughs.

Dr. Ballard spoke at the Lobero Theater in Santa Barbara, and then participated as part of a panel of local scientists and educators. As expected, it was fascinating.

Most people know Dr. Ballard as “the guy who discovered the Titanic.” So let’s get the shipwreck thing out of the way first. Since the beginning of recorded time, over three million ships have been lost in the deep sea. Dr. Ballard is #1 on the leader board for having discovered the most sunken ships ever – with a total of 50. That’s a lot of ships, but it’s less than two thousandths of a percent of those that have been lost. He has discovered places where shipwrecks have been completely trawled out of existence, and places (such as the Black Sea) where the conditions are such that shipwrecks are perfectly preserved.

But what is so cool about the way Dr. Ballard explored the Titanic, the Bismarck, and other ships is the technology that he envisioned and brought to life: a way of exploring called “telepresence.” Essentially, Dr. Ballard explains that he was frustrated with how ocean exploration was occurring. He spent most of his time “in the elevator” to and from the ocean floor (ascending and descending in the submarine). Very little time was left for actual exploration. And the submarine was tiny, only six feet across. (Dr. Ballard, at 6’2”, could not stand upright in Alvin.) And it was incredibly dangerous. One little thing goes wrong, and that could be the end of you and the rest of the crew.

So he devised a way, in his words, to send “the human spirit” down to the bottom of the sea instead, kind of a “Beam Me Down, Scotty” sort of thing. The two ROVs used as a part of the Nautilus exploration program are Hercules and Argus. Together, they descend to the depths and send the video back up to a crew on the ship, a crew that can be rotated out on four hour watches. This way, the dive is nearly unlimited. A single dive could run for several days and nights, uninterrupted. You don’t have feed robots; they don’t need bathroom breaks. This way, the human spirit can explore as deep as the submersibles can carry it.

Dr. Ballard has been on over 150 expeditions so far. Sometimes, he is asked, “What are you going to discover next?” His answer? “I don’t think you understand the process!” The excitement of ocean exploration is indeed wrapped up with the fact that so little of the ocean has been explored; you never truly know what wondrous thing you are going to come across next.

But sadly, ocean exploration is woefully underfunded. NASA’s budget is 1000 times larger than NOAA’s. Space exploration is indeed important, and has led to valuable contributions to everyday life; but the fact that we know more about the surface of Mars than we do about the Santa Barbara Channel, right off our coast here in California, is shocking.

Part of the reason why many nations are scrambling now to map just off their coasts is because a nation can claim land for 200 miles off its continental shelf. (Because of this, the United States owns more land under the ocean than any other nation on Earth.) So if a continental shelf extends for a great distance, there’s a lot of extra land to be claimed. This is important for countries that want to make claims on the natural resources (such as oil or metal deposits, or fishing grounds). All of that starts with good mapping. With better maps, we may discover that we own a lot more than we ever knew.

As a result, there is a lot of exploration going on right now. Dr. Ballard likes to say that on his ship, it’s more “Lois and Clarke” than Lewis and Clark, because he has mandated that 55% of the people on board the Nautilus are women in positions of authority and leadership. He recognizes that women have been traditionally underrepresented in STEM fields, and he seeks to help level the playing field. (Pay attention, ladies! And make sure to check out the Ocean Exploration Trust’s Honors Research Program and internship programs!)

One of my favorite moments in the program was when Dr. Ballard phoned the ship and put the call on speakerphone to share with the audience. He dialed the number, and to the man who answered, announced, “This is Bob Ballard.”

To which the man replied, “Who?”

Dr. Ballard responded, “This is Bob Ballard. Who’s this?” And got only silence. Then the guy hung up. “He didn’t sound very impressed,” quipped Dr. Ballard.

Dr. Ballard went to redial, glanced at the phone, and realized his mistake. He had dialed the area code for his home instead of the area code assigned to the phone on the ship. We all laughed together as we realized that Bob Ballard just made a crank call with over 600 people as witnesses.

Even though I had had the opportunity to see Dr. Ballard speak before, I still found myself uttering, “Wow,” and my breath catching in my throat at different points. He is a great storyteller, and he has truly amazing stories to tell. The last note I took was during the panel discussion. Someone asked Dr. Ballard why ocean exploration is important. With his signature wit, he replied, “Ocean exploration is fundamentally important to the survival of our species. Other than that, it’s not that important.”

Well said, as always.

Who would you invite if you could host a party and invite anyone? What are some lessons you have learned from your heroes? Please share!

The above is the beginning of a multi-part series to run over the next couple of months. Melissa Baffa, Vice President of Program and Volunteer Services for GSCCC, will be joining the Corps of Exploration again this year, exploring the deep sea aboard the E/V Nautilus. This blog series will chronicle her dive into the Unknown.

¸.·´¯`·.¸.·´¯`·...¸><((((º>     `·.¸¸.·´¯`·.¸.·´¯`·...¸><((((º>    `·.¸¸.·´¯`·.¸.·´¯`·...¸><((((º>  

In a couple of weeks, I will be returning to the E/V Nautilus, boarding in San Diego, and exploring a region off the coast of Southern California known as the Borderlands. I will be blogging here on the GSCCC website, and contributing weekly columns to the Ventura County Star, in the Sunday edition. Please join me, and share your comments. Girl Scouts, there is still time to sign up for the Nautilus ship tour in San Francisco on August 17. And please join me through the Nautilus Live website as we explore the deep sea alongside the Corps of Exploration!

Want to go on an adventure with me? Skip to the next blog post by clicking here.

Want to catch up on what happened last season? Click here to start with the first post from last season.

  

Explore the Ocean Live with Me this Summer




Girl Scouts is all about trying new things, broadening a girl’s horizon, and building courage, confidence, and character along the way. Last year, when I applied for the Science Communication Fellowship with the Ocean Exploration Trust, I was stretching myself for two big reasons: one was to further develop my own courage, confidence, and character. More important was to take girls with us on the journey, to inspire them and enable them to see themselves taking on new challenges and embarking on journeys of their own.

Last summer, I traveled to Panama, where I met up with the E/V Nautilus. It had just entered the Pacific Ocean for the first time, after journeying through the Panama Canal. (You can view a video of that journey here.) I was incredibly excited and nervous, exhausted from all the travel to get down there, and overwhelmed with the many differences between Panama City and home. Once aboard the Nautilus, I sailed to the Galápagos Islands, where we explored a place at the boundary of creation, a crevice deep under the sea that marked the divergence of the Nazca and Cocos plates.

Here, we sought the hydrothermal vents that were first discovered by Dr. Robert Ballard (founder and president of the Ocean Exploration Trust) in 1977. We discovered a stark and forbidding landscape, a place wrought by water and fire and pressure, a territory inhabited by fantastic creatures, worthy of wonder. And I had the tremendous privilege of communicating that wonder to the world, through the portal at www.nautiluslive.org, where I could interact with the global audience fascinated with our exploration, and through live interactions with audiences around the world in schools, museums, aquaria, and more. The cutting edge technology known as telepresence makes it possible; discovery in real time is a revolutionary event that we can experience together.

The experience was, in so many ways, so much richer than I could have ever imagined. I tried many new things, met a lot of new and interesting people, and created stories and memories that I could then bring back to audiences at home. Once home, my job shifted to sharing the experience and the wonder of ocean exploration with the public. From kindergarteners to the elderly, people are fascinated to learn what’s underneath all that water.

So when the opportunity arose to apply once again, to return to the sea this summer, I leapt at it.

As a lifetime resident of Southern California, I have logged many, many hours in and on the ocean here. And I have always been fascinated myself with what’s underneath all that water. Boogie boarding, surfing, and kayaking give you a glimpse from the surface. Snorkeling immerses you in the environment, your breath whooshing noisily in your own ears as you explore. Diving allows you to explore the sunlit reaches of the realm, which means in this place, mostly sandy bottoms, rocky reefs, and kelp forests. But what about the deep sea?

What about the land of shipwrecks, of deep sea faults, and mysterious seeps from the ocean floor? What manner of creature swims or crawls or drifts in the darkened places of the deep?

In a couple of weeks, I will be returning to the E/V Nautilus, boarding in San Diego, and trying to answer some of these questions as we make our way through a region off the coast of Southern California known as the Borderlands. I will be blogging here on the GSCCC website, and contributing weekly columns to the Ventura County Star, in the Sunday edition. Please join me, and share your comments. Girl Scouts, there is still time to sign up for the Nautilus ship tour in San Francisco on August 17. And please join me through the Nautilus Live website as we explore the deep sea alongside the Corps of Exploration!

What are some things that you have done that have scared you? Did they somehow promote growth? Please share in the comment field below!

The above is the beginning of a multi-part series to run over the next couple of months. Melissa Baffa, Vice President of Program and Volunteer Services for GSCCC, will be joining the Corps of Exploration again this year, exploring the deep sea aboard the E/V Nautilus. This blog series will chronicle her dive into the Unknown.

¸.·´¯`·.¸.·´¯`·...¸><((((º>     `·.¸¸.·´¯`·.¸.·´¯`·...¸><((((º>    `·.¸¸.·´¯`·.¸.·´¯`·...¸><((((º>  

Want to go on an adventure with me? Skip to the next blog post by clicking here.


Want to catch up on what happened last season? Click here to start with the first post from last season.