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MISSION DISPATCH 5 October 06, 2005 | Claire Nouvian - @SEA Correspondent "Nothing can match one's first mind-boggling, gut-wrenching immersion in the deep ocean - as everyone who has tried it from Beebe onward can attest." Robert D. Ballard, The Eternal Darkness. 
I don't know where to begin, such an intense day. When Marsh told me that at-sea activities would occur 24 hours per day, I did not quite understand what he meant, now I do. The R/V Seward Johnson never sleeps. The last few dives provided enough material to get everyone going non-stop, so shifts occur naturally with the scientific team. Although tired, everyone keeps a good spirit and the vital touch of humor. Marsh asks me if I want to go on the 1 pm dive to 3000 feet in Oceanographer canyon. Oh yes, yes, yes, I do. How generous of him, he was probably disappointed that I didn't get to see more in Wilkinson Basin. This time, I bring more blankets and sweaters to insulate against the chilling atmosphere in the dive chamber. People look and laugh at the surface. It is so strange to be wearing a T-shirt in the warm sun and then be immersed in the dark, cold depths of the canyon. But I don't regret bringing an abundance of clothing. Being warm, my mind won't spare even a second to such a boring problem and my attention will be focused on what's happening outside the portholes. 
Chuck sits in the forward sphere with Phil, the pilot, and I have Frank Lombardi as an aft-mate. As we jam ourselves inside the JOHNSON SEA-LINK I (JSL), we both wish our bodies were much shorter. Frank remarks "if I had two wooden legs, I could unscrew them and leave them on the ship". These technicians certainly have a twilight zone sense of humor. We laugh. And we're off. I am so excited, I can feel the treat coming. I breathe ohs and ahs. I remember from William Beebe's Half-Mile Down that after his bathysphere dives, he was angry at himself for having made such non-interesting remarks. I promise I'll try to keep them to myself. As hard as I may try, after a few minutes I hear Chuck ask via the intercom, "What's all the wow-wow about?". Sorry, it must be annoying for an experienced scientist to hear the beginners in the intercom, but hey, an impressive red squid appeared at my porthole to wave at me! 
I savor every second of this dive. THIS visit to the deep sea is by far, by very, very far, the best 3 hours in my existence. Nearly every animal I have seen in pictures is here, AND in motion. This out-of-sight world makes new sense to me: the way gossamer ctenophores like Bathycyroe fosteri gracefully swim and glide by flapping and folding their lobes, the unbelievable number of sinuous snipe eels, the bursting speed of streamlined squid, the pulsing motions of small, crystalline medusae, the blue-green flashes of bioluminescence now and then, and the suspended posture of the dragonfish Stomias. I see many siphonophores, chaetognaths, even barracudinas, a tomopterid worm zigzags right in front of my eyes. In the distance, I observe silhouettes and shapes that appear and disappear like ghosts in the halo of the light. What are they? Fishes? Cephalopods? Can we go check on them? Oh, this dive is so enchanting; I NEVER want to return to the surface. When we reach the seafloor, 3000 feet down, there are many dogfish cruising just a few centimeters above the sandy sediment. Corals, gorgonians, and huge anemones occupy every rocky outcrop. My mind is blown by the diversity. A strange thought comes: "this stuff is REAL". Pictures and films are far less thrilling than actually being here with these fantastic creatures. 
You may read as much as you want, you may watch all the deep-sea footage in the world and even sit in the control room of an ROV (remotely operated vehicle) for hours like I did in the past, but nothing, absolutely nothing, can replace the direct experience of diving to the deep. Chuck and Phil make a 600-ft video transect along the deep-sea floor to provide Franz and Andrey with visual information about the diversity of fishes and their aggregations. After this near-bottom excursion, we move up to the magical pelagic realm at 2900 feet. Chuck soon sees a huge (30 cm long) ctenophore with pointed, floppy lobes. We've found a rare specimen of Kiyohimea, a very fragile creature first described from Japan seas about 60 years ago, then observed again in Bahamian waters and Monterey Bay, California in the 1980s. I don't miss a tiny bit of each moment. Frank, my aft companion touches my shoulder to grab my attention, he's laughing: "don't put your nose so close to the porthole, you're fogging it." Phil, our pilot, announces that we have to start ascending, WHAT? We've only just started! I am amazed that over 3 hours passed so quickly! All lights are extinguished; the big bioluminescent show begins as we ascend. 
Once back on the ship, Marsh, Kelly, Jessica, David, Franz, Andrey, Brian and Brandy all rush to the samplers. They carry many of the collecting chambers to the cold room in preparation for more measurements of respiration of the animals. Next they peer through microscopes to look for prey in the stomachs of siphonophores that we captured and preserved in situ. First, they count how many stomachs (gastrozooids) there are per animal and then look inside. They often find copepods and euphausiids, occasionally larval fishes. This period is a time where one hears weird remarks such as "I'm putting stomachs behind you" or "I have stomachs for him". The night dive beginning at 830 pm involves the ichthyologists. Andrey and Franz return with an interesting liparid fish with subtle white coloration and many pore sensors around the mouth. One sampler holds one of the most peculiar medusa that anyone has ever seen. The inner red layer folds and wrinkles in unique ways. David and I suggest two common names for this animal, "Accordion medusa" or "Origami medusa" in reference to the Japanese paper folding art. When our beehive is in full action, Marsh comes back from a trip to the bridge to announce that two big storms are heading our way. This weather alert sounds like a catastrophe scenario, Perfect Storm 2? We have to leave as soon as possible; the captain does not want to steam through rough seas. Having to vacate the dive site is a major disappointment for everyone involved in this cruise but a reminder that we're just terrestrial visitors. We can't live here. 
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