WE'RE HOME!

June 12, 2007. Aboard the SSV Robert C. Seamans, at dock in Honolulu. The city lights of Honolulu are so tantalizingly close, yet we are still so far away, so far detached from our land lives. The yellow flag flying on our mast indicates we have not yet cleared customs; we are still a part of the sea, an attraction of camera-flashing cruise-ship spectators. Now we celebrate our journey and prepare for our return to land.

There is something comforting about a green slab of land, rising high in the sky, up to misty clouds. We have casually cruised around the islands of Maui, Lanai and Molokai -- it has been more than a month since we have seen land higher than two meters (six feet) elevation. The green corrugated hills with white birds flitting over the soft covering of rainforest mesmerize us all while the calm waters quietly lull us out of our Pacific dream.

We have come so far on this journey, more than 3,000 nautical miles through the Pacific. In our last day of class we reflected on what we missed the most and least during our trip: the Internet, e-mail, a preoccupation with the media -- all the things that complicate our normal lives and make us lose sight of our true importance and where we are going. Here we gaze into the vast ocean and realize our insignificance against something larger than comprehension. Here the sea enlivens our passions and courses through our hearts.

Even though we may leave sight of the ocean for the first time in months, we will never forget the smiling faces of Kiribati, intricate creatures, glimmering sunsets, countless stars scattered throughout the night sky. These have shaped our thoughts of conservation and our own perceptions forever. We ecstatically await sharing our fabulous experiences, only hoping to communicate a portion of the experience that we will remember forever. -- Johnny Bartz, Stanford@SEA student

ANCHORING OFF MOLOKAI

June 11, 2007. Aboard the SSV Robert C. Seamans. We're finally in the Hawaiian Islands. We passed Lanai and Maui, and had a super sail, tacking back and forth with almost full sails up, through the Pailoli channel between Maui and Molokai.

The islands look so high compared to the atolls of the Line Islands -- sharp cliffs, huge mountains hidden by clouds. Late yesterday, we had a spectacular downwind sail by the verdant cliffs of Molokai, where we could almost smell but not hear, the waterfalls that flow over the cliffs rising more than 2,000 feet from the sea.

We saw coves with the occasional person fishing the deep blue waters. With strong trade winds blowing at 25 to 30 knots, we came to a perfect place to drop anchor -- a protected coastline along a cliff with a volcanic rock and an emerald blue sea at sunset.

It is hard to believe that we've finished the journey. We've traveled more than 3,100 nautical miles, and now only a seven-hour sail separates us from Oahu, customs and our final dock.

As a community, we've been reflective of what we've gained, what we've accomplished and how our trip has affected all of us. Tomorrow, summer begins, and we will continue our journey as a Stanford community of seafaring friends. -- Barb Block, chief scientist

100 MILES FROM LAND

June 10, 2007. Aboard the SSV Robert C. Seamans. We're within a day of seeing land. It's hard to imagine we've sailed 3,000 nautical miles in a triangle from Hawaii, through the Line Islands and back.

The sail home has been a good one, complete with periods of strong winds, a few squalls, some head seas that made things slightly uncomfortable, to times where we've had very little wind and had to turn on the motor to make sure we'd get back on schedule.

During the last days of the voyage, each student takes on the role of a Junior Watch Officer. This is the pinnacle of the nautical science portion of the program. The JWO is in general command of the ship, and gives commands to her or his peers. I hear students, not mates, calling out all maneuvers.

In addition, the students have all been busy preparing and presenting their scientific results from their research projects. We've heard terrific results, from a report of the phytoplankton diversity along our cruise track, to an explanation why white sharks and sea turtles might hang out in cyclonic eddies south of Hawaii or along frontal boundaries where jellies abound.

The Line Island projects showed fascinating results on predator and herbivore diversity. This year's data allows us to fill in some gaps from prior cruises. Over three cruises, we've biologically sampled all the Line Island atolls (Kiritimati, Tabuaeran, Teraina, Palmyra and Kingman).

For fun tonight, we're conducting a "styro cast". Everyone's drawing pictures on a regular coffee-size styrofoam cup. We put them all in a net bag, send them down to 3,000 meters (9,000 feet), where the pressure shrinks them -- and the illustrations -- into demitasse-size. -- Barb Block, chief scientist

GETTING CLOSER.....

June 7, 2001. Aboard the SSV Robert C. Seamans. We're 250 nautical miles from Hawaii, and sailing with strong northeast trade winds. We're keeping busy doing CTD casts (which measure salinity, temperature and density of the water) at 3,000 feet (1,000 meters) below the surface, and bongo tows (which look like bongo drums with nets that are dragged behind the ship to catch plankton). All students are working on their projects, which they'll start presenting to the entire group on Friday. The students have also led conservation discussions under the stars. -- Barb Block, chief scientist

FAR AT SEA

June 5, 2007. Aboard the SSV Robert C. Seamans. We're 550 nautical miles from the Hawaiian Islands and sailing with a strong northeast wind on our bow. It feels as if we're fighting to go uphill against the wind. We're working on projects, enjoying the sailing, and watching the Southern Cross sink into the nighttime horizon. Today, we are the farthest from land. Except for the occasional petrel, no seabirds are in sight. -- Barb Block, chief scientist

KINGMAN REEF

June 1, 2007. Aboard the SSV Robert C. Seamans, near Kingman Reef. We’ve made it up to Kingman Reef, the northernmost point along the Line Islands. [The tiny spit of land is an unincorporated territory of the United States, and is administered by the U.S. Navy.] Bringing the Seamans within 0.15 nautical miles of this barren spit of reef is a remarkable moment for our program. Its also a bit of a tense experience. We tried to sail here during Stanford@SEA 2003, but did not make it into the channel due to squalls and cloudy weather, which made viewing of coral heads that bring up the bottom rapidly to 5 fathoms (one fathom is about six feet), and the disconcerting feeling that the charts were off.

This year, under the brilliant leadership of Captain Phil Sacks, we sailed into the reef on a spectacular sunny day. This was our Everest, taking this ship into this reef and allowing research to be conducted. It was not easy by any stretch of the imagination.
The coral cover beneath the sea surrounding the spit of land is astounding -- almost 100% in all places we’ve looked. Compared to any place in the Line Islands, the visibility is clearer and the colors of the coral reef more brillant, with the colors enhanced by giant clams everywhere.

We quickly conducted transects for predators and found the reef rich with large snappers, some groupers; black tip, gray reef and white tip sharks abounded. The herbivore fish include some of the species we’ve rarely seen, such as schools of moorish idols (Zanclus cornutus -- "Crowned Scythe"). Last night and into the early morning we had “shark night”. By chumming with leftover parts from our successful fishing endeavors, we were able to see about 16 gray reef sharks, some aggressively pursuing prey that we had attracted to our lights. We fed the sharks from the ship so that we could examine them up close. It was squally and rainy, and diligent work by the crew kept us safely away from the reef edge.

We spent the early morning using our small Avon inflatable boat to make landfalls on the spit of land. Here we were able to set foot on what I realized must be one of the most desolate places on Earth. A ghostly shipwreck loomed close to us, and we all took a picture near it. As I glanced at our ship and the shipwreck, I could not help but wonder what a forlorn situation it would be to be stranded here on a tiny spit surrounded by a shark-filled reef.

We collected two large trash bags of assorted plastics, line and buoys that may have drifted thousands of miles to land here. At noon, with a brisk wind, we sailed out of the reef for Hawaii. A 900 nautical-mile, 11-day journey over the ocean lies ahead. -- Barb Block, chief scientist

CATCHING UP...PALMYRA ATOLL

May 31, 2007. Palmyra Atoll. Palmyra is the magical stop on our tour. This atoll which is owned by the Nature Conservancy has a working international research station. The intact lagoon, back reef and fore reef offer much to explore and study. We were met at Palmyra by the staff that run the research station, and scientists from Hawaii and California studying the bonefish and black tip sharks. NPR's Alex Chadwick from Radio Expeditions and Stanford News Service reporter Mark Schwartz doing stories on the atoll and the ship.

Once we were briefed on the rules of the road at Palmyra, we were allowed to explore with our skiffs filled with scientific teams. The coral reef team called the Hobo group with Sam Urmy, Johnny Bartz and Jess McNally set out to place Hobos at the various locations in the lagoon, channel and backreef. The predators group (Chris and Del) went out to Penguin Spit (formerly Tigershark point) to do some transects, along with the herbivore algae team (Visran and Kaori). Amy Briggs and Maija Leff also did some algal collections to search for diatoms that collect ciguatera toxin.

Many students and SEA staff wandered around the atoll, a place rich in palm trees, coconuts, and picturesque beaches, including one with a swimming hole complete with a rope swing.

The red-footed booby team sprung into high gear. Karen Lone, Melissa Kunz and I worked with bird researcher Scott Shaffer and graduate student Hillary. We went out every night we were in Palmyra. Wearing long shirts and pants, headlamps and packs, we trudged in rain and clear weather through mud and muck and onto the fore reef areas where the boobies were nesting in low hanging branches of trees.

We noosed the boobies with a long fishing rod that had a monofilament loop. It was challenging in moonlight to slip the noose over the head of the bird. My fishing skills transferred readily to booby catching, and, once a bird was noosed, the gals would swoop in and delicately weigh and tag the birds. The birds were quickly fitted with a GPS tag that was taped to three tail feathers.

We all marveled at holding a booby up close. I was amazed at the head structure -- the colors of the beak and feathers and the sharp serrations on the beak that help this animal catch fish and squid. We sampled some of what they ate, as they often regurgitated their meals and Hilary saved everything for future isotopic studies back at Stanford. We caught about 15 birds in 4 nights work, and instrumented 10.

I’ll forever remember the last night at Palmyra. Working in moonlight, Boris Worm, Sarah Rizk, Adam the first scientist and I tagged three mantas -- huge animals 10 feet or so across. While tagging mantas I had an encounter with a tiger shark that will last as a snapshot in my mind forever. I’ve never seen one so close, and let me tell you, there is little doubt in the water what shark you’re looking at. We sailed through the channel early in the morning on a clear day. It was a nice contrast to the squally rains that had been ever present there. A glorious exit, with mantas swimming beside us. -- Barb Block, chief scientist

CATCHING UP...TERAINA (WASHINGTON) ATOLL

May 26, 2007. Washington Atoll. -- We approached Teraina (Washington) Atoll (one of the 32 islands and atolls that are part of the island nation of Kiribati) to compare this reef to Kiritimati (Christmas), Tabuaeran (Fanning) and Palmyra atolls. Teraina Atoll rises strikingly from the sea with a thick jungle of palms along the beaches. Our ship approaches to within a half-nautical mile of shore, and through the binoculars I can see kids running along the beach.
It was a remarkable moment as the ship loomed offshore with the lower sails up. I wondered what the isolated islanders thought when they saw this remarkable tall ship approaching so closely. The approach to shore at Washington Atoll was extremely steep along the beach with huge breaking waves, and we were unable to land a Zodiac ashore but we did allow four swimmers to swim through the surf zone and onto the island.

We launched our Zodiacs filled with equipment for our scientific snorkel missions. We were surprised at the lack of biodiversity in the fish -- predators (snappers, groupers and sharks) and herbivorous fishes at Washington Atoll, and assumed that the local population of about 1,000 islanders may have contributed to the decline of the reef fish.

I talked to one man who greeted me as I emerged from my swim to shore. At first he was concerned – who are you – what are you doing here? he asked. I realized we must have looked quite unusual- all of us in our neoprene swim-wear emerging from the water. I explained who we were and invited the man, whose name was Tauro, to our ship. There were numerous aluminum small craft and Tauro indicated they spearfish regularly on the reef.

His community looked significantly more isolated than at Kiritimati Island. We provided school supplies, some canned goods and I presented my favorite fishing lure and monofilament line to the boat captain who drove the aluminum skiff. As we sailed away, a triple header of yellowfin bit the lines, and we were able to sample two fish. Both had stomachs filled with very small animals, including crabs, shrimps, and small fish. -- Barb Block, chief scientist

LEAVING THE DAMP DAMP DAMP ITCZ

May 31, 2007. Aboard the SSV Robert C. Seamans -- There is nothing more luxurious than a clean, dry shirt--something absent from my life this past week. We have finally left the Inter-Tropical Convergence Zone, which makes Palmyra such a damp place, allowing us to finally dry our clothes. I have never been to a place so wet, so tropical, so beautiful, with scuttling hermit crabs, scurrying rats, and miraculous reefs--a technicolor painting of the underwater world beyond the scope of imagination.

Perhaps many places used to look like Palmyra before human interaction, with numerous sea turtles, inquisitive black-tipped sharks, and graceful manta rays, several of which Barb Block tagged. Speaking of sharks, I tracked a black tip for six hours. The constant ping of the satellite tag reminded me of songs, playing in my head, a reminiscence of civilization that I left at home, under my bed. I asked about the diet of the black tips, and learned that in addition to reef fish, these sharks eat fallen booby chicks and rats! Supposedly being eaten by a shark is a 'good way to go' for a fallen chick, since the alternate fate would entail coconut crabs picking out their eyes. It's a tough life for a fallen booby chick.

Along with the damp weather, we bid adieu to Rob Dunbar, who is staying on Palmyra for coral research. Now Barb is the mother of us all, the queen bee of our Pacific colony. I should mention that the ship itself feels like home. Each day, returning from a scientific mission or a shore expedition, we receive comfort by grabbing a snack in the saloon before curling into our bunks, no matter how stifling, and regardless of the number of damp clothing articles we are trying to dry. We are truly a shipboard family, about to begin our homeward journey, preparing to grasp every last moment as we again traverse the vast Pacific. - Johnny Bartz, Stanford@SEA student

ON TOP OF THE YARD

May 22nd, 2007. Aboard the SSV Robert C. Seamans. [ed. note -- This is a posting from a student on May 22.]

Aloft!

After ten long days of waiting, my dream had finally come. For months I had imagined this moment: sitting on top of the wind, 60 feet above the deck, staring in wonder at the vast blue surrounding me. I felt like I could see forever, not because we were in the middle of nowhere, but because we were in the center of something.

Studying oceanography gives one an entirely new perspective on the world - an entirely different dimension, almost invisible from the surface. A glance over the blue would yield nothing more than waves, but the flying fish and seabirds give a glimpse of the land beneath. It's impossible to be alone on the high seas with so much "something" around you.

We lay there on top of the yard, watching the people on deck so far beneath us, suddenly part of a separate layer of Earth. You don't know the troposphere until you get off the ground. Up here we were weightless. We were free. We were not as human, or at least not at an evolutionary advantage - most humans should have better common sense than to climb up the mast on a tall ship. But at that moment, all the way I had come to get here now had a purpose.

I anticipated this voyage for over a year, but the R.C. Seamans was only a means to a beginning. To be a true oceanographer, you have to understand the inhabitants of the sea, but to see beyond the science, you must understand what the ocean inhabits.

The view from the top is great. - Kat Hoffman, Stanford@SEA student

SHARKS AND BOOBIES IN PALMYRA

May 29, 2007. Palmyra Atoll. We're in Palmyra now - an atoll that the Nature Conservancy has set up as a preserve and natural laboratory. A consortium of universities and museums has established this unique atoll as a research station.

Along with consortium scientists, the students of Stanford@SEA are conducting their missions in the small boats around the lagoons by running transect lines to continue their observations for comparison with Kiritimati and Washington islands. Because there are few people living on Palmyra, there is a trophic cascade that is rich with top predators (aka sharks).

We saw three-foot white tip sharks yesterday during our transects. The booby team (Karen and Melissa) began working with renowned TOPP bird researcher Scott Shaffer and a graduate student, Hillary, from Stanford. We've been out for two nights in a row using a modified fishing pole to catch the boobies as they are nesting and than quickly attach a GPS transmitter.

I found my skills with poles and monofilament transferred quickly to catching boobies out of trees. The work is done in the middle of the night. The first night we were rained on and were still getting used to being on land at night; it's a sharp contrast to being at sea. The jungle was rich with life -- crabs moving across our path, spiders, eels along the water's edge and the remarkable cries of the sooty tern colonies.

Last night we worked under moonlight and stars; it was spectacular. We've recovered the first two tags. One track shows a booby heading toward our next destination -- Kingman Reef. Our interest is in how the land and sea connect here and the relationship between one atoll and the next. We hope to recover 4 GPS tags tonight. If so, Melissa and Karen will have the key to understanding how the red-footed boobies use the ocean to feed their chicks. -- Barb Block, chief scientist

SAILING INTO PALMYRA LAGOON

May 27, 2007. Palmyra Atoll. We have come to our final stop before returning to Honolulu: Palmyra Atoll. It is evident from the modernity of the facilities that we are again in a U.S. territory, the rural Kiribati behind us. A reporter from Stanford came to interview students about our experiences and projects, but words cannot fully record our journeys, neither can his sophisticated video camera. A person would have to see that deep blue ocean, wave to smiling people of Kiribati, see their faces as they smiled back, the children playing frisbee with us on the beach, learn from their simple lives that keep cohesion and happiness, reflect against the ocean waves extending into oblivion. These things, times, places that a camera cannot capture, will live in our minds forever.

I have a slight fisherman's tale to tell, if I may boast just this once. I was doing an hourly bird observation, and the fishing rod began to scream behind me, the monstrous fish almost fully spooling the line as it dove into the depths. It was an epic 45-minute battle to land the fish, involving Tuna-Queen Barb, Adam the scientist, Captain Phil, and myself, taking two gaffs to raise the 90-pound yellowfin tuna to deck, which Barb quickly dissected with relish, coercing me to take a bite of the still beating heart. Dolphins at the bow interrupted us, splashing next to our ship, accompanying the most beautiful sunset -- a perfect end to a magnificent evening.

Our entrance into the Palmyra lagoon was utterly spectacular as boobies and other birds accompanied our ship. The howling wind from a passing squall died, and soon the buzz, the drone, the shriek of thousands of nesting terns became audible as we saw the dark cloud rising into the sky and swooping down into the jungle, more birds than you have ever seen, their soothing noise continuing well into the night, all I need to lull me to sleep in tropical paradise. - Johnny Bartz, S@S student

AT KIRITIMATI....AKA CHRISTMAS ISLAND

May 24, 2007. Kiritimati, Kiribati -- We arrived in the Line Islands on a gorgeous sunny afternoon and anchored offshore of Christmas Island 2 days ago. Here, emerald lagoon seas reflect green colors in the clouds, and coral sands are bleached white. Our mission has changed, as we've been conducting scientific surveys (transects), snorkeling inshore reefs, and exploring Christmas Island.

We've transitioned to Leg 2 of our voyage where the focus is on the coral reefs of the Line Islands. Our ultimate goal is to survey the status of the back reefs along the Line Islands chain to assess the impact of the local inhabitants on the health of the reef systems. By comparing along the gradient of human habitation (from 9,000 people on Kiritimati to relatively uninhabitated coral atolls at Palmyra and pristine Kingman Reef) we hope to garner a better understanding of human impact on these vital reef systems. Project science included surveying the reefs to examine the state of the biodiversity of apex predator coral reef fish by Chris Hanson and Del Rego with Barb Block and Doug McCauley swimming close by.

Visran Vischit-Vadakan and Kaori Tsukado, advised by visiting scientist Boris Worm, did transects that investigated herbivorous fishes. Sam Urmy, Jess McNally and Johnny Bartz, working with chief scientist Rob Dunbar, conducted a lagoon coral health project that placed temperature recorders along the lagoon regions to observe how the lagoon waters influence the physical characteristics of the water column and ultimately the coral reef community.

Students also participated in recreational snorkeling. I took one group out for a trip with experienced guide Kim Anderson of Dive Kiribati. Within three hours we swam with a large manta ray, dolphin, caught a barracuda and large blue trevally that we let go. We saw dolphin fish leap out of the water after flying fish, and gasped as a booby swooped in front of our boat to grab, and then lose, a flying fish that erupted pushed up into the air by our presence.
We met with Henry Genthe, a former chief scientist of SEA in the early years, who told stories of the early days of the program aboard Westward. Genthe, his family, and the students and staff at St. Francis High, a local school, hosted a spectacular gathering for our students. We all sat together in Henry's backyard -- literally the beach front -- as the sun set and students from St. Francis performed a series of welcome songs and traditional dances.

Stanford@SEA students led by Kat Hoffman performed several songs of their own. As the evening wore on, all the students danced together to local music. The evening was memorable primarily for the new friends, and exchange of new rhythms, dance and songs, but most importantly for the cultural exchange that has been on going between SEA and Stanford students and St. Francis for many trips.

We donated books we gathered back at Stanford to several schools. We pulled anchor at 1300 and left for Washington Island, a 2-day sail. We sailed through a feeding frenzy completely with diving birds, including boobies and frigates, and leaping tunas chasing flying fish. It was a super sight. We quickly dissected two of the 25-pound skipjack we caught, and found 8 squid (which we promptly called Meridith Capenter to sample), several baby tunas (which I put away for later viewing) and a variety of ocean life in their tummies. It was a great end to a fascinating day. -- Barb Block, chief scientist

AT SEA...FIRST LEG, PART FOUR

May 21, 2007. Aboard the SSV Robert C. Seamans. It's hard to believe we have been on this ship for ten days without the sight of land; it feels more like one, or maybe two long days -- experiences melded together by the sea. Three months ago I never could have imagined myself sorting through plankton nets next to two world-renowned scientists, but now it is all too real as we approach Christmas Island in the central Pacific. Every minute I stay up, after my watch is over, to gaze at the bioluminescence of the waters, I find something I have never seen before, a whole mysterious world brought to the lights of our boat during the darkness. The sight of the most magnificent sunsets, boobies circling overhead, and the rolling waves of the vast Pacific all inspire me in this intimate experience with the ocean.

The transformation that the whole ship community has undergone is remarkable. I remember the first day when practically the entire boat was stricken with seasickness. The students and professors alike (well only Rob) bonded as we shared the rails to hurl our insides into the sea, food for Barb's tuna and the flying fish that we could see as we literally 'worshipped' the swells. But that is all over, rest assured to our avid readers. Now we hardly even notice a difference as the ship heels and lists while under way, our only indication is the gimbaled tables that rock to prevent our dishes spilling on the floor. It is equally amazing how close the community has come, recognizing the smell of each others' shoes on deck, or laundry as we hang it to dry.

As the excitement builds for our landfall at Christmas Island, there is also a sense of nostalgia: Our sea passage is coming to an end, one phase of our experience complete. I can remember the smell of land as we left Kaleakakua Bay, the sweet scent of plumeria, and, yet, I feel no urgent need for land, just the excitement to continue learning and experiencing the ocean's wonders. -- Johnny Bartz, Stanford@SEA student

AT SEA...FIRST LEG, PART FOUR

May 19, 2007. Aboard the SSV Robert C. Seamans. Today was sunny and hot here in the tropics. The temperatures are rising. It was 83 degrees near my bunk, which I can attest is not the most comfortable temperature to sleep at. For the first time on this trip, I felt hot.

The day began with strong seas, sails full, and the largest waves of the trip. They're primarily wind-driven and long-period swells. The ship is rolling easily side to side and moving quickly across the top of these waves, sinking into the troughs and rising over the next. Its fun -
somewhat like an amusement park ride, with more roll and lean than any prior day. Speeds as high as 10 knots are helping to make up time from the heavy science stations in the first part of the leg. We're now within 400 nautical miles of our destination, Christmas Island.

Despite the high seas, students are conducting Winkler titrations in the lab, chlorophyll assays, and alkalinity titrations - a testament to the true grit of this program and the Stanford students. You have to hold on a bit more, and use your legs to steady your balance, but after 8 days, we're all experienced at maintaining our balance.

Mindy Summers has conducted her first respiration experiments which is a breakthrough for all of us. She struggled with chief scientists Jeff Schell, Rob Dunbar and Barb Block for three days as they solved software problems for this "first-time" instrument for this trip. As in any science done shipboard, there are often great rewards and challenges and, for Mindy, the disappointment of not having this unique instrument working was palpable. Finally, the microrespirometer is working, and animals such as amphipods, copepods and shrimp from the evening tows are now being placed into miniature chambers and having their metabolic energetics examined.

Kat is looking daily under the Zeiss microscope at the phytoplankton she's been collecting as she examines the species composition along the transect. The members of the turtle team are preparing for their final station now that we're deep into the productive region of the lower latitude frontal station. Satellite images from shore have extremely useful and provide guidance as we select station locations.

We're entering the most productive waters of the trip - the hottest waters - beyond the frontal edge, the region we have yet to see the sea turtles penetrate. My guess is it's just too hot for their reptilian physiology. Large body size, and retention of heat in a 1,700-pound (800 kg) sea turtle would be hard for the turtle to dissipate, and it would overheat. Remarkably, the thermocline (where the water temperature drops rapidly with depth) is shoaling and the oxygen minimum layer is as shallow as 150m. Below this depth, the water is as cold as 8 degrees C and there is less than 1% of the oxygen we have at the surface. This raises a ton of interesting questions that the students are pondering.

Chief scientist Rob Dunbar, Stanford University professor of geology and environmental sciences, gave a fascinating lecture on carbonate production and dissolution in this region of the Pacific, and provided the students with a context for understanding the vertical profiles revealed with the daily noon CTD casts. Related to these observations, Annie Scofield's project involves measuring the pH and alkalinity in samples collected from the deep ocean beneath the ship. She is studying the carbon system in this seldom-sampled part of the planet.

Guest scientist Boris Worm, an assistant professor of marine conservation biology at Dalhousie University in Halifax, Canada, and students have been recording birds daily for Juliann Schamel's project and have had their first sighting of a bird that's native to Kiritimati Island (Christmas Island). That suggests we're getting closer to our Line Island destination. The evening meal was an ono (also known as wahoo) caught on a large lure earlier in the day. -- Barb Block and Rob Dunbar, chief scientists

AT SEA...FIRST LEG, PART THREE

May 18, 2007. Aboard the SSV Robert C. Seamans. The ship continues on its way south and we are experiencing the remarkable wonders of sailing a tall ship. The trade winds are blowing strong and steady and all the students of the 2007 Stanford@SEA class have their sea legs.

The routine of the ship runs now like clockwork - with watches (groups of students) rising and relieving one another with an energy and enthusiasm that reminds me of when I was a student aboard Westward. Our students are carrying on the continuous rhythm of the ship's mission: research, sailing, cooking meals, catching fish (wahoo and tuna) and simply experiencing high seas sailing.We've just passed the point where we're farthest away from land. With winds as strong as 30 knots and almost all the sails of the tall ship up, it almost feels like flying. And at night, with starlit skies, our bow is directly pointed at the Southern Cross which rises higher each night. The stars and planets are intense in the evening sky. Venus is brighter than I've ever seen it. A sliver of the moon rises early in the evening. One understands how Polynesian voyagers could use the star Arcturus to navigate as it rises prominently in the evening sky.The students have been collecting sun and star sights with their sextants and calculating our position. Jess McNally was the first to put a position on the chart, and, using astronomical math, was within 5 nautical miles of the GPS positions. This group is among the strongest we've had in navigation and nautical science, which met daily in the shore component and continues here in a practical context at sea. Their enthusiasm for using the sextant, shooting local apparent noon sights, and learning is almost insatiable. Del Rego commented today that nautical science might be the most practical course he's ever taken at Stanford - "I'm learning about the planet". Captain Phil and engineer Dusty are working daily on sextant handling, reduction of the positions and teaching how to use the stars to navigate.
Over in science, the turtle team continues sampling along the frontal boundary where the northern equatorial current meets the counter current. Using temperature and salinity along with chlorophyll as a cue, we've focused in on our second station of three. At midnight we conducted a long three-hour station. Our meter net was filled with the jelly biomass of siphonophores and pyrosomes that lit the evening with their remarkable flaming bioluminescence. While conducting the station, squid filled the evening lights and flying fish were so plentiful they were jumping right into the boat - this shows the richness of the frontal edge.

Christmas Island lies 4 days ahead and our students with Line Island projects are memorizing fish, preparing their gear, and sorting out field plans. But for now, we have fallen into a routine of sailing ever southward, with a warm breeze out of the northeast and twice daily station stops punctuated by afternoon all-hands meetings. We are a happy ship. -- Barb Block and Rob Dunbar, chief scientists

AT SEA....FIRST LEG, PART TWO

May 16, 2007. Aboard the SSV Robert C. Seamans. The ship is currently approaching the halfway point between Hawaii and Christmas Island -- 14.50 of latitude on the 156.5 line of longitude.

Last night might have been one of the most exciting evenings ever on the Seamans with a Stanford@SEA class. With the help of people on shore who are providing satellite images of the ocean surface, we located and crossed a dynamic feature of oceanography and reacted quick enough to sample the physical oceanography and got a rare glimpse of what lives in the region.

The ocean is a dynamic place and when you look across the surface its often hard to "see" the distinctions between different water masses. But when we saw a booby fly over the ship at 4 p.m. so far from land, it should have been a sign that we were close to a large oasis in the sea.

After a super day of sailing at speeds as high as 8 knots we were moving steadily along on the evening watch when the science lab noticed the fluorescence climbing steadily, the surface temperatures warming and the salinity dropping. These were all signs that we were crossing from the North Equatorial Current (NEC) into a new water mass.
A satellite image from David Foley of NOAA had just come through and we recognized that we were on an extension (that green "finger" on the left in the image above) of the Inter-Tropical Convergence Zone (ITCZ), a strong frontal zone that is approximately at 11o north. This finger, which extends as much as 200 miles north of the front, was a lunch spot for a leatherback sea turtle that's wearing a satellite tag. Stanford students Larisa Lehmer and Scot McCrackan are studying how leatherback sea turtles follow the frontal zones. They hypothesize the turtles use this tactic to forage on jellies. They think that these "fingers" serve as small buffet tables for the sea turtles, allowing them to dine on the rich resources yet remain on the cooler side of the front.

Leatherbacks are "gigantotherms" and are warm-bodied. The hot waters of the ITCZ may be too warm for their huge five- to six-foot bodies, and, by nibbling on jellies at the point of the convergence of the two water masses, they possibly gain a slight energetic advantage.

The ship passed through the finger and, as the fluorescence signal declined, SEA chief scientist Jeff Schell and I asked Captain Phil Sacks to turn the ship around -- quickly! The "B" watch team (the students work in groups, and take turns being on "watch" to sail the ship) conducted a rapid jib manuver, crossing 3 sails, and within 20' we were back on the feature. Here we once again jibbed and put the ship hove to (come to a stop, in landlubber language). At midnight, we tossed the CTD profiler in the water. We also threw out a series of nets. One was 2 meter net at a depth of 150 feet (50 meters) that caught more jellies than anyone had ever seen. A second was a bongo net for squid, which student Meridith Carpenter is studying. A third net was a neuston net to capture life in the surface waters. The team worked into the early morning hours but went to bed satisfied that the mystery of why the sea turtles forage along the frontal edges had for a moment been solved. -- Barb Block, chief scientist

AT SEA....FIRST LEG, PART ONE

May 15. Aboard the SSV Robert C. Seamans, Pacific Ocean. The 2007 class of Stanford@SEA has made steady progress south toward the Line Islands. We're on the "Open Sea Transect Leg" and have had tremendous success. The students, professors, and crew are working 24 hours a day conducting research, sailing the ship and providing all the necessary forage for the 38 people on board.

South of the Hawaiian Islands, we've focused on the oceanography and ecology of eddy features. We crossed the center of an anticylonic downwelling eddy and clipped a piece of a cyclonic eddy. Here we studied the ecosystems of both features with Gen Del Raye, a freshman at Stanford. His project is assisting researchers at Tagging of Pacific Predators to investigate how and why large predators such as white sharks swim thousands of miles to forage in these eddies.

Sure enough, by deploying instruments that profiled the physical elements of the water column and nets that sampled the organisms living in the water, we were able to find distinct differences between the "hot" and "cold" eddy features. Also, by sending down the CTD (an instrument that measures salinity, temperature, and chemistry of the water), we were able to see that there is a significant drop in oxygen in deeper waters, which may explain why the sharks seem to dive to depths as great 1,350 to 1500 feet (450-500 meters), but quickly resurface. Water samples taken from bottles on the CTD that took samples of this deep water were also used by Annie Scofield to study changes in ocean alkalinity, in important parameter for determining oceanic uptake of carbon dioxide. -- Barb Block and Rob Dunbar, chief scientists

FISHING, TAGGING OFF THE BIG ISLAND

May 12. Aboard the SSV Robert C. Seamans. We sailed from Oahu to the island of Hawai'i. The high winds channeling between the islands made for some rough seas within a few hours of the departure. With Beaufort force 5 and 6 conditions we were able to get across to Kealakekua Bay a half day ahead of schedule.
The calm waters of the Big Island were a welcome relief to the students and crew who found the channel crossings a bit uncomfortable. Today, we split into teams: three teams went sport-fishing aboard local charter boats Sea Baby III, Silky and a third vessel, and another team went snorkeling at the Captain Cook memorial. Here scientists Rob Dunbar and Boris Worm led our students on an underwater survey in the marine preserve to study the diverse reef fish and unusually healthy corals of Kealakekua Bay.

Our students sharpened their in-the-water observational skills in advance of our field work in the Line Islands. This is the healthiest coral preserve in the Hawai'ian Islands and provides a useful reference site as we move to warmer waters near the equator.

The team aboard the Sea Baby III fished with legendary Captain Freddy Rice. Within 2 hours they hooked up to a striped marlin and the line screamed off the reel. Karen Lone, a Stanford junior, jumped into the fighting chair and reeled the fish to the boat where I quickly tagged the fish over the side with a pop-up satellite archival tag. The fish was released without any difficulties: it swished its tail and swam away. The tagging event will complement ongoing studies of striped marlin being conducted by New Zealand scientists in collaboration with the Block lab. Students aboard the fishing vessel Silky tagged and released a spearfish.
The spectacular day was capped when Herb Kane, noted Hawaiian artist and historian, mesmerized all aboard with stories of Captain Cook's encounters with native Hawai'ians in the bay in 1779, and of ancient voyages of the Polynesian voyagers. -- Barb Block, chief scientist

ON BOARD THE SEAMANS!

May 9. Aboard the SSV Robert C. Seamans, Honolulu, HI. Today the 26 members of the Stanford@SEA class of 2007 -- undergraduate students, graduate students and professors -- joined the Seamans at Pier 35.

Tomorrow, we will cast off the lines and make way for the Big Island of Hawai'i and Kealakekua Bay. Here we'll be met by well known sport fishers. The students will spend the morning fishing, snorkeling and practicing transects in the bay. In the evening, we'll be joined by Herb Kawainui Kane (pronounced KAY-ney). Kane, an artist, author and historian, will describe the events that took place at the bay when British explorer Captain James Cook visited and died there in 1779.

Kane's research on Polynesian canoes and voyaging led to his participation as general designer and builder of the sailing canoe Hokule'a, on which he served as its first captain. Hokule'a has now made four round-trip voyages between Hawai'i and Tahiti, and a 16,000 mile pan-Polynesia voyage to New Zealand and back, all navigated without instruments.

We will then sail due south toward the island nation of Kiribati (pronounced Kiribas) and begin the scientific portion of the trip on the "transect leg". Here we hope to focus on a variety of student-led projects including identifying species of squid that live in the open sea, studying phytoplankton communities and ocean food webs, and why animals such as leatherback turtles and other Pacific predators use eddies -- the life-filled whirlpools that move across the ocean.

Of course, the first few days will be the hardest when all of us are learning the lines on the ship, and getting used to its pitch and roll. The trades are moderately strong, which will provide a quick sail to our destination. This hopefully will allow more time for science "on station" along the transect leg.

The enthusiasm is palpable as we prepare to set sail. -- Barb Block, chief scientist

LEAVING FOR HAWAII!!

May 6. Hopkins Marine Station, Stanford University. The shore component of the Stanford@SEA program finished on Friday. For the last 5 weeks, 21 Stanford undergraduate students and three graduate students have been learning about oceanography, maritime history, marine conservation, sailing and navigation. Now they're on their way to Hawaii to join the tall ship SSV Robert C. Seamans for a voyage to the island nation of Kiribati, and up the Line Islands to the unique Palmyra Atoll and Kingman Reef. The trip will take five weeks, and end in mid-June back in Hawaii.

Under the watchful eyes of Seamans Capt. Phil Sacks and his crew, the students will be sailing the ship 'round the clock, cleaning the ship, fixing meals for all on board, and assisting in maintaining the ship. Under the tutelage of Stanford@SEA chief scientists Barb Block, Jeff Schell and Rob Dunbar, they'll be doing the fieldwork for their research and putting together the presentations that they'll do at sea on the last leg between Palmyra Atoll and Hawaii. Also on board will be guest scientist Boris Worm of Dalhousie University.

When they're able, they'll send us messages to post on the blog. They'll be boarding the ship on Wednesday, and leaving shortly thereafter.-- Jane Stevens, Stanford@SEA editor