The Vessels and Monday Activities

At the beginning of this blog, I purposely had not described the vessels we were using, in order to protect their locations, since they are military vessels.  Since they have now moved on to their next missions or are transiting, I am sharing their photos below. Week 1 was spent aboard the 59-meter hydrographic ship LAPLACE (following these links will take you out of the blog, so you will need to hit the Back button to return). Laplace is beautifully equipped for oceanographic survey and mapping.  Its usual missions are mapping the French coast.

Weeks 2 and 3 have been on the STYX and ANTARES.  STYX is a 41-meter dive support vessel with a team of divers and the US Navy Autonomous Underwater Vehicles we are using for target investigation. This past week, I was based on ANTARES, a 28-meter long vessel whose mission is sonar surveying.  The two ships work together in their missions locating and clearing mines along the French coast. The divers are trained to deactivate the mines – not a job I would want.

LAPLACE

ANTARES

STYX

Monday, June 4

We have spent the past two days transiting from the port of Hull, England, and waiting for the weather to improve. Having done no surveying and having nothing new to report search-wise, this post, like some of the others, will focus on life aboard a French Navy ship.

Today I will attempt to describe the hideousness that is an angry North Sea, particularly when you are on a very small ship that is not meant to work in the deeper waters offshore.  I don’t think there is a single one of us who has escaped feeling the effects of literally being pounded into one wave after the next. The sea state is a "5", meaning there are 20+ knot winds and waves of about 4 meters.  We are tossed about, and two people are feeling so crummy that they are lying down outside on the aft deck. The XO has assigned someone to check on them periodically to make sure they are still with us and did not fall overboard. We are getting our butts kicked by Mother Nature once again, and have no chance of winning.  In my brief check on the status of my team of two (the ones lying out on the deck), another crew member runs out the door to the stern and bends over the rail.  I feel so bad for everyone, as they are not used to working in heavy seas. I feel particularly bad for the cook, who wasn’t well and had to continue producing meals for 25 people, while boiling huge pots of water that sloshed about, and with the smell of food permeating the air. Maybe it’s because I have already been out here for two weeks, but I have been spared the seasickness. I will count my blessings and try to keep everyone's morale up as best I can. 

The forecast for the next two days is not good, with the sea state reaching a "6" (4-6 meter waves and very rough seas) by tomorrow.  We talk about heading inshore to the shelter of Flamborough Head, which we have done on previous expeditions.  It seems like an eternity (only a few hours) until we are granted permission from the British authorities to anchor near the shore for the night.  Our companion vessel, STYX, is about 10 hours behind us in the transit, as they had engine trouble in port and had to wait for the next tide in order to sail.  Based on our terrible transiting experience, they chose the inshore route and had a much more comfortable ride up to Flamborough Head, where they moored next to us for the night.  We will travel together to the survey area in the morning, and hope that conditions allow us to continue the survey.  A good night's sleep should do everyone good.