Sleep Deprivation

One would think that being in the middle of the ocean for 6 weeks with no alcohol and nowhere to go would allow one to catch up on sleep. Oceanographic expeditions are typically called a “cruise” (wikipedia definition for CRUISE: casual travel, relaxation and sightseeing) with a stack of books for down time entertainment and a bag of chocolate bars for down time comfort food. Little does one know that the chocolate bars become an orally administered sugar high to support your sea-going insomnia!

The “cruise” begins with a bunch of seasoned scientists, already decked out in Scopalamine patches (prevents sea sickness), and a bunch of macho new-comers who believe they are the descendants of Poseidon.  After one hour at sea, the seasoned scientists are smirking and gnawing on chocolate bars while the macho newcomers alternate between the bathroom and their trusty bunk beds. Once they've relieved themselves of breakfast, lunch and dinner, these macho newcomers are able to sleep for days on end, as if they really are on a leisurely cruise.

This marks the beginning of the next stage of the cruise: the dreaded transit to the research site, which may take up to a week. In our case, the first few days were marked by large swells produced by Hurricane Bertha. When these swells collide with the steel hull of the moving ship, it sounds like a torpedo exploding. Those scientists lucky enough to sleep in the ship’s underbelly spend their nights with ear plugs, head phones and 2 pillows piled over their heads, attempting to block out the sounds of the these thundering collisions between water and steel. Finally, mental exhaustion sets in and the scientists finally get some sleep.

After the transit, the ship finally reaches the research location, and the scientists assume (incorrectly) that with an anchored boat and less wave action, sleep will be an easy gig. However, after 2 days of long Jason watches where the scientists have to wake up around the clock (when Jason is in the water, the work continues 24 hours a day), the samples are finally ready to retrieve.  Since fluid and biological samples can rapidly degrade in the surface environment on the ship, the scientists must work all night, developing red puffy eyes and diminished brain capacity, trying to analyze all of the samples before they are ruined by the atmospheric conditions.  With sore feet, empty minds, and stomachs once again full of chocolate bars, the scientists emerge from the lab to watch the sunrise over the ocean and count down the minutes until breakfast will be served.

Drew Syverson and Mikaella Rough after a long night in the lab

Eoghan Reeves (left) and Dr. Jeffrey Seewald take a break during the first all-nighter in the lab

Sunrise

After some sleep, the scientists gather on deck to watch Jason be deployed all over again, and brace for yet another “all-nighter” in the lab, a typical schedule that will repeat itself frequently over the next month.  Luckily, the scientists are now familiar with the boat sleep cycle, and are ready with coffee pots and chocolate bars to process the next round of samples. The stack of books brought on board, full or promise and relaxation, are deposited with the hundreds of other deserted books in the ship’s library, for the next cruise of newbies full of pomp and lacking the necessary Scapalamine patches.

Dr. Peter Saccocia still working on the gas chromatograph at 330 AM.

The sea sickness patch keeps Drew afloat

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