Today was incredibly busy, and in my opinion, most of the business was rather unproductive. I woke up at 7:00, got some breakfast, and did my normal morning thing, just tagging along with Mr. Buckley trying to be helpful. I ended up in the dry-lab, and was given some work to do. I was asked to create an event log for the entire trip. I created it in Word, changed and added a few elements that needed more attention than last year's event log. Once that was done, I converted all of the digital camera photos to .jpg format, and brought them down to screen revolution.
I
went for a while to the deck to check out the sites. We had just hit ice
-- thin, rotten ice, but ice nonetheless. I was VERY pleased to see wildlife.
I saw hundreds of walruses lounging around on the ice, most at a distance.
I saw a right whale come up to breathe while watching the walruses (this
was all on the front deck, hanging out around the bow). After the whale
I saw what I think was a seal that came up to look at the boat, and quickly
disappeared.
I lost track of time, and wandered back to the dry-lab. I was told "initiation" was commencing, so I headed up to the helo deck. I saw Tish (whose real name is Patricia) and she told me that the science crew was "auctioned off," as I was watching other coast guard rookies get auctioned off. So I got my nose covered in blue marker (I am now an official "blue-nose," awaiting my chance to receive the honor of being a Polar Bear. I soon discovered we had to prepare a skit for a blue-nose no-talent night. And we all decided to put the brainstorming for the skit off until around 1600. I went back to the dry-lab then, and finished the data-sheet up on the computer.
Having everything done I was obliged to do, I set out to my "post" on
the deck. I marveled at the ice -- mostly still rotten, but incredibly
expansive. As the ice bounced off the boat's edge, huge burgundy clouds
of algae plumed through the water. The boat would overcome massive blocks
of ice without hesitation, and most of them caused no vibration in the
boat (at this stage, anyway). As I was watching the ice, an event occurred
that would send my walrus frenzy up a notch. I
was looking ahead of the boat, and a swirl of dark blue water gave way
to a bouncing walrus head, that soon looked slowly around, and gently
bobbed back under. Its head was followed by a mass of blubber and huge
fins. I got my camera, and kept my eye on the rusty-brown sea mammal.
Soon enough it bobbed up again, closer to the boat than I ever could have
dreamed (about 50 meters away). It had big beautiful tusks, and was swimming
on its back, cradling a young one. It slowly bobbed by the boat, until
it was out of sight. If the pictures turn out half as good as the view
I got of her, than I will be more than happy.
After lunch, I spent a little more time on the bow searching for whatever appeared. The ice had grown thicker and the open leads had started to disappear. After about 15 minutes, I headed back to the Wardroom lounge where we discussed a skit for the no-talent.
After discussing, it was almost 1900, time for the skits. I made a ten-minute run up to the deck, obsessed with the massive chunks of ice being devoured by the boat. I then headed to the chopper hangar, and proceeded with the no-talent night. It was fun, but got old pretty quick. Our skit went better than I anticipated. It first started with us all standing around, reading newspapers. A Neil Diamond song -- Sweet Caroline -- played, and everytime Neil would sing "SWEET CAROLINE" we'd all wave our right arms in a an arc, tapping our feet and smiling. Of course, as soon as that phrase was finished, we'd all go back to reading our newspapers, oblivious to the horribly addicting sunshine music. I for one am not much of a Diamond fan, and it will most likely haunt my dreams.
After that skit, the music was shut off, and our "teacher" came out, with a sock on his hand. The sock had a hat and eyes, and he did a very good impersonation (well, more like im-cartoonination) of Mr. Garrison from South Park. He talked through the sock puppet to all us "students" throughout the skit.
We all sat down, getting rid of our newspapers, and Mr. Garrison made clear that we were talking about simulating life aboard a ship at home. It was very funny -- my line was "get rid of all plants, windows, and decorations. Paint everything spar. Stencil numbers on everything." Oddly enough though, the Neil Diamond skit went over the best among everyone. We weren't scorned at and shot with water pistols. the other skits were funny too -- mostly playing off shipboard life, and poking fun at those with higher ranks.
After the skits, I went downstairs to gather spare clothing for a "surprise" that we would get after being rudely awakened at 4 in the morning. We were given hints that we were going to be dragged out onto the deck early in the morning and sprayed down with cold saltwater. We were also to wear everything inside out. All clothes inside out, and inside-out underwear over the inside out pants. A few moments of hell, and then back into the ship. He said he'd leave his flip-flops out for me to use, to avoid getting my shoes drenched in saltwater.
My personally feelings about this "initiation" will probably change once I have gone through it all, but I still think they are going a little overboard. Tomorrow I have a 20-hour workday ahead of me, as we are scheduled for our first ice-station. I am writing this log at 2250, and will be taken out and sprayed with water at 0400. How will this effect the way I work tomorrow?
Well, the ship has struck pack ice, and has turned on the turbines. This adds much more horsepower, so I suspect we will be vibrating quite a bit, but chugging right along. I better get as much sleep as I can tonight, for I suspect tomorrow to be quite a rough day.