The intercom in my cabin crackled to life. "Penguins off the starboard bow!" came the cry. I skyrocketed out of my bunk, pulled on a down vest, fleece pants, and a parka, and jumped into my boots. Then I dashed to the bow of the Polar Duke.
I joined a group of scientists with cameras. One pointed to six black-and-white shapes breaking the water. " Penguins," he grinned. "They're great swimmers."
It was early November 1992--early spring in Antarctica--and the big ship was sailing near the Antarctic Peninsula. Chartered by the National Science Foundation, the 219-foot Polar Duke takes scientists through Antarctic seas. There were twenty on this cruise, some from the University of Tennessee, Knoxville, and some from the University of Hawaii. And then there was me, a UT Knoxville writer working as a laboratory assistant. We planned to spend 21 days at sea.
Dr. Walker Smith was the chief scientist for the University of Tennessee team. He explained to me why he and the other scientists had come to these Antarctic waters. They were looking for microscopic sea plants called phytoplankton (FY-toe-plank-tun).
Phytoplankton are important to the world environment. Like green plants on land, they engage in photosynthesis, removing carbon dioxide from the air and providing oxygen.
Phytoplankton also provide food for many types of sea animals. They are eaten by tiny marine animals called zooplankton (ZOE-oh-plank- tun). Zooplankton, in turn, are eaten by penguins, seabirds, seals, fish, and whales.
Dr. Smith and the other scientists aboard Polar Duke wanted to learn more about phytoplankton. They hoped to find a patch just beginning to bloom and study it as it grew.
How do you study something you can't see? I wondered. I learned that the water holds many clues.
Water became the most important thing in our lives. The scientists collected it every four hours, sending twelve large plastic bottles over the side. There was a stampede as soon as they arrived back on deck. I rushed to fill little bottles along with the rest. My gloves were too big, so I worked without them. The wind made my bare hands stiff and sore.
Inside the lab it was a little warmer. We emptied each bottle into a filter rig, a device that slowly sucked the water through. I stared at the water, thinking, "If I look hard enough, surely I'll see some phytoplankton." But the water was always completely clear, the clearest I had ever seen.
In the middle of each rig was a filter, not much bigger than a quarter. As the water flowed through, the filters "caught" phytoplankton.The scientists told me--based on the amount of chlorophyll, or green plant coloring, that was caught--that very few plants were blooming yet.
But I saw other signs of spring. As the days wore on, the calls from the deck came more and more often: "Penguins!" or "Seals!" or "Albatross!" On clear days, the sun shone so steadily that I almost felt hot. But it never came close to melting the ice. As we sailed I saw jagged castles, round pancakes, and big square tables in the sea.
Only after midnight did the light fade briefly. All was quiet during those few twilight hours. Sometimes I walked the deck anyway, staring at the water. I thought of the unseen garden of phytoplankton and wondered, like the scientists, how it grew.
Photos by J.D. Goodlaxson, Martin Marietta Energy Systems, and Amy Schauer, University of Alaska