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DISPATCH 1: "Harmonics" - 5.31.2006 | Mark Carroll 
Under a blazing Florida sun and with high tide beneath her keel, the R/V Seward Johnson slowly pulled away from the dock at the Harbor Branch Oceanographic Institution. The ship's crew busied themselves with work on deck, pulling in ropes and readying the steel ship with the swift, deliberate actions of a seasoned crew. This, after all, was the second time in as many days they had been out to sea. Just yesterday the ship had returned from a mission in the Bahamas. Today, it was off to the Miami Terrace - a region of unexplored deep-water reefs off the coast of southern Florida. The massive white ship, 204 feet in length and 36 feet across her beam, pushed through the wide, green waters of the Indian River as she made her way towards the open ocean. Distant towers of clouds rose upward like pillars along shore as a small pod of dolphins escorted the ship past the breakwaters and then disappeared into the sea. As the ship turned south riding gentle swells, a host of researchers gathered in the ship's lounge. 
John Reed, a tall man in his 50s, was sporting his best sea garb: a well-traveled t-shirt, khaki shorts to match and an orange baseball cap with a sea kayak logo. In the 1970s, Reed had helped discover and explore the Oculina Banks, a deep-water reef system off the east coast of Florida. In the years that followed, these reefs were recognized for their unique place in the underwater realm and were eventually made into a marine reserve - the first of its kind in the world. Now, Reed is a senior researcher within the Division of Biomedical Marine Research at the Harbor Branch Oceanographic Institution and he is continuing his deep-water reef research. He is also the Chief Scientist aboard ship. And, as such, he began the lounge meeting. "There are lots of questions," Reed said. "And, we'll likely end up with more than we answer." The group nodded in unison. He was talking about the destination that the ship was moving towards and the reason everyone was here - the Miami Terrace. The Miami Terrace is a rocky underwater region that lies just off the coast of Florida between Boca Raton and South Miami. This is not a place for snorkeling. At depths ranging from 600 to 2,500 feet, the deep-water reefs found here come by their name honestly. Like their shallow-water cousins they are home to a slew of ocean-going critters that all add their own ecological magic to the habitat. But, at such great depths it is a forbidding place for humans. And trips to the bottom of the ocean aren't exactly easy to come by. So, little is truly known about the workings of the ecosystem. 
As the meeting continued, the gathering took turns introducing themselves and their work. It quickly became obvious that this was not what would be considered a standard complement aboard a research vessel. There were 16 researchers in all from 5 different institutions, including Harbor Branch, the University of Florida, Nova Southeastern University and the Florida Fish and Wildlife Research Institute (with the ship's crew, submersible techs, pilots and media it brought the total aboard to about 40). From a lay view, ocean science is ocean science. But to find together, on one ship, specialists in marine geology, biochemistry, ecology, mapping and oceanography, all working towards a common goal is highly unusual. So unusual, in fact, that this mission marked the first time that so many institutions have come together in an effort coordinated through the Harbor Branch Oceanographic Institution. The lounge meeting itself set the tone for the remainder of the voyage, as the scientists coordinated their plans for the coming days. Eventually small groups splintered off and began work on their particular projects, setting up labs and detailing the ops to come. Deep-water reefs are mostly unexplored. And from what is known about them, there are few absolutes. This mission set out to change that. But, to be successful, a group of scientists used to working within their own disciplines have to come together and begin the process of decoding the intricate mysteries that lie thousands of feet below. 
How do these reefs form? Who lives there? Just how fragile are they. Are they in danger? And, if so, why save them? There's only one way to find out. Blog 1: "Allure" - 5.31.2006 It's always an odd feeling to be on a ship as it leaves dry land. I guess it's the tease of the unknown as you're headed out to sea and the allure of the vastness of the ocean. But, it's not like we're circling the globe or headed to some exotic land...we're just off the coast of Miami (which I guess could be considered an exotic land to some). Regardless, being at sea certainly has its own magic. It is a destination that is, at once, nowhere and everywhere. And, as such, it has a certain draw. It can be whatever you need it to be. I emailed a friend and told her I would be at sea for a while. She replied that she would rather be nowhere else. I thought that was interesting that although I did not specify a location, the images that the phrase "at sea" evoked were enough to entice feelings of longing to be among the waves far from land. Perhaps that's it. The ocean provides an escape from the grind of traffic and phone calls and errands. On what often seems to be an overly crowded and excessively busy planet, the sea can be your "happy place" of solitude and beauty, tranquility and quiet. On a research vessel something is always happening. Winches grind in the morning. Hydraulics whir in the afternoon. People inch past each other late at night in tight hallways. But, the sea somehow, with its electric blue energy, transforms it all into a gently rolling symphony of sound and movement (at least while the seas are calm). 
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