NOAA Teacher At Sea
Aboard: Oscar Elton Sette
Cruise Dates: July 6 – Aug 2
Mission: HICEAS Cetacean Study
Geographic Area: Northeast of Kauai, headed toward Northwestern Hawaiian Islands (NWHI)
Location: 24 deg 41.9 min N, 170 deg 51.2 min W
Date: July 17, 2017
Weather Data from the Bridge:
Visibility: 10 Nmi
Wind: 11 kts at 90 deg
Wave height: 1-3 m
Swell at 50 deg, 2-3 ft
Air Temp: 29 degrees
Wet Bulb Temp: 25 degrees
Dewpoint: 28 degrees
Technology definitely finds its way into every corner of life, and cetacean studies are certainly no exception. One of the most recent additions to the Cetacean team’s repertoire of technology is a fleet of UAS, or unmanned aerial systems. (UAS is a fancy term for a drone, in this case a hexacopter. Yes, we are definitely using drones on this mission. This seriously cannot get much cooler.) HICEAS 2017 is utilizing these UAS systems to capture overhead photos of cetaceans in the water as they surface. And the best part of all of this? I was selected to be a part of team UAS!
The UAS can only fly under certain atmospheric conditions. It can’t be too windy and the seas can’t be too rough. We had the chance to practice flying the hexacopters on one of the few days we were off the Kona coast of the Big Island, where the wind and seas are typically calmer. Dr. Amanda Bradford is leading the HICEAS 2017 drone operations. She is involved in securing air clearance that might be required for a hexacopter flight, as well as all of the operations that take place in preparation for deployment – of which there are many. The UAS is launched preferentially from a small boat, although it can be launched from the ship. So, in order to do boat-based UAS operations, we must first launch a boat off of the side of the ship. There are four people involved in the small boat UAS operations – the UAS pilot, the UAS ground station operator (Dr. Bradford and scientist Kym Yano alternate these positions), a coxswain to drive the small boat (NOAA crewmember Mills Dunlap) and a visual observer/data keeper (me!) for each flight the hexacopter makes.
We all load up our gear and equipment onto the small boat, along with the coxswain and one team member, from the side of the ship. The ship then lowers the boat to the water, the remaining teams members embark, and we are released to move toward the animals we are trying to photograph. I don’t have any photographs of us loading on to the ship because the operation is technical and requires focus, so taking photos during that time isn’t the best idea. I will say that the whole process is really exciting, and once I got the hang of getting on and off the ship, pretty seamless.
Our first trip out was just to practice the procedure of getting into the small boat, flying the UAS on some test flights, and returning back to the ship. The goal was to eventually fly the hexacopter over a group of cetaceans and use the camera docked on the hexacopter to take photogrammetric measurements of the size and condition of the animals.
Launching a hexacopter from a boat is quite different from launching one on land. Imagine what would happen if the battery died before you brought it back to the boat! This is why numerous ground tests and calibrations took place before ever bringing this equipment out over water. The batteries on the hexacopter are good, but as a security measure, the hexacopter must be brought back well before the batteries die out, otherwise we have a hexacopter in the water, and probably a lot emails from higher ups to answer as a result. Each time the hexacopter flies and returns back to the small boat, the battery is changed out as a precaution. Each battery is noted and an initial voltage is taken on the battery before liftoff. The flights we made lasted around10 minutes. As soon as the battery voltage hits a certain low level, the pilot brings the hexacopter back toward the boat to be caught. My job as the note taker was to watch the battery voltage as the hexacopter comes back to the small boat and record the lowest voltage to keep track of battery performance.
The UAS has two parts, one for each scientist – the pilot (who directs the hexacopter over the animals), and a ground station operator. This person watches a computer-like screen from the boat that has two parts – a dashboard with information like altitude, time spent in flight, battery voltage, distance, and GPS coverage. The bottom portion of the ground station shows a monitor that is linked to the camera on the hexacopter in real time.
The pilot has remote control of the hexacopter and the camera, and the ground station operator is responsible for telling the pilot when to snap a photo (only she can see from the monitor when the animals are in view), watching the battery voltage, and the hand launching and landing of the drone. As the hexacopter is in flight, it is the coxswain’s and my responsibility to watch for obstacles like other boats, animals, or other obstructions that might interfere with the work or our safety.
To start a flight, the hexacopter is hooked up to a battery and the camera settings (things like shutter speed, ISO, and F-stop for the photographers out there) are selected.
The ground station operator stands up while holding the hexacopter over her head. The pilot then begins the takeoff procedures. Once the drone is ready to fly, the ground station operator lets go of the drone and begins monitoring the ground station. One important criterion that must be met is that the animals must never come within 75 overhead feet of the drone. This is so that the drone doesn’t interfere with the animals or cause them to change their behavior. Just imagine how difficult it is to find an animal in a camera frame being held by a drone and flown by someone else while looking on a monitor to take a photo from a minimum of 75 feet from sea level! But Amanda and Kym accomplished this task multiple times during the course of our flights, and got some great snapshots to show for it.
On the first day of UAS testing, we took two trips out – one in the morning, and one in the afternoon. On our morning trip, Kym and Amanda took 5 practice flights, launching and catching the hexacopter and changing between piloting and ground station monitoring. In the afternoon, we were just getting ready to pack up and head back to the ship when out of the corner of my eye I saw a series of splashes at the ocean surface. Team. I had a sighting of spinner dolphins! I barely stuttered out the words, “Oh my God, guys! There are dolphin friends right over there!!!!” (Side note: this is probably not how you announce a sighting in a professional marine mammal observer scenario, but I was just too excited to spit anything else out. I mean, they were Right. There. And right when we needed some mammals to practice on, too!) They were headed right past the boat, and we were in a prime position to capture some photos of them. We launched the hexacopter and had our first trial run of aerial cetacean photography.
On the second day, we had a pilot whale sighting, and the call came over the radio to launch the small boat. Things move really fast on a sighting when there is a small boat launch. One minute I was up on the flying bridge trying to get some snapshots, and the next I was grabbing my camera and my hard hat and making a speedy break for the boat launch. We spent a good portion of the morning working the pilot whale group, taking photos of the whales using the hexacopter system. We were lucky in that these whales were very cooperative with us. Many species of whales are not good candidates for hexacopter operations because they tend to be skittish and will move away from the noise of a small boat (or a large one for that matter). These little fellas seemed to be willing participants, as if they knew what we were trying to accomplish would be good for them as a species. They put on quite a show of logging (just hanging out at the surface), spyhopping, and swimming in tight subgroups for us to get some pretty incredible overhead photographs. I also had the chance to take some great snapshots of dorsal fins up close, as well.
These side-long photos of dorsal fins help the scientific team to identify individuals. There were times when the whales were less than twenty yards from the boat, not because we went to them, but because they were interested in us. Or they were interested in swimming in our general direction because they were following a delicious fish, and I’d be happy with either, but I’d like to think they wanted to know what exactly we were up to.
While photographing the whales a couple of interesting “other” things happened. I had a brief reminder that I was definitely not at the top of the food chain when Mills pointed out the presence of two whitetip sharks skimming beneath the surface of the water. Apparently these sharks know that pilot whales can find delicious fish and sort of hang out around pilot whale groups hoping to capitalize. I wondered if this was maybe my spirit animal as I am following a group of scientists and capitalizing on their great adventures in the Pacific Ocean, as well.
Another “other” thing that happened was some impromptu outreach. While working on the small boat, other boats approached the whales hoping to get some up close snapshots and hang out with them for a bit, as well. Two were commercial operations that appeared to be taking tour groups either snorkeling or whale watching, and one was just a boat of vacationers out enjoying the day. The scientific team took the opportunity to approach these boats, introduce us, and explain what we were doing over the whale groups. They also took the opportunity to answer questions and mention the HICEAS 2017 mission to spread the word about our study. It was a unique opportunity in that fieldwork, apart from internet connections, is done in relative isolation in this particular setting. Real-time outreach is difficult to accomplish in a face-to-face environment. In this case, the team made friendly contacts with approximately 45 people right out on the water. Congenial smiles and waves were passed between the passengers on the boats and the scientific team, and I even saw a few cell phones taking pictures of us. Imagine the potential impact of one school-aged child seeing us working with the whales on the small boats and thinking, “I want to do that for a career someday.” What a cool thing to be a part of.
Over the last couple of days, the ship was near the coast of the Big Island, Hawai’i. One morning, we approached on the Hilo side, which is where Mauna Loa is spewing forth her new basaltic earth. It treks down the side of the volcano, red-hot and caustic, only to be tempered immediately as soon as it strikes the anesthetic waters of the Pacific. Having never seen real lava before, I was hoping to capitalize on the big eyes and catch a glimpse of it as it splashed into the ocean’s cool recesses, forming solid rock and real estate on the side of the mountain. Unfortunately, I failed to account for the laws of thermodynamics – forgetting that hot things make water evaporate and re-condense into steam. I suppose I was just romanticizing the idea that I could possibly see this phenomenon from an angle that not many get to see it from – miles out on the Pacific Ocean. And the truth is, I did, just not in the way I had imagined. I did get to see large plumes of steam extending up from the shoreline as the lava met its inevitable demise. While I didn’t get to see actual real lava, there was definitely hard evidence that it was there, hidden underneath the plumes of white-hot condensation. I took a few photos that turned out horribly, so you’ll just have to take my word for it that I almost sort of saw lava. (I know, I know. Cool story, bro.) If you can’t believe that fish tale, surely you won’t believe what I’m about to tell you next – I didn’t see the lava – but I heard it.
Starting in the wee hours of the morning, the acoustics team deployed the array only to find an unidentified noise – a loud, sharp, almost cracking or popping noise. They tried to localize the noise only to find out that it was coming from the shores of the big island. Sure enough, when they figured it out, the acoustics lab was a popular place to be wearing headphones. The snapping and cracking they were hearing was the lava cooling and cracking just beneath the ocean surface on the lava bench. So, I didn’t see the lava, but I heard it solidifying and contracting on the acoustics system. How cool is that?
Why do the head stalls (AKA bathroom stalls) lock on both sides of the door?
- So that you can lock your friends in the bathroom as a mean prank
- Extra protection from pirates
- To give yourself one extra step to complete to get to the toilet when you really gotta go
- To keep the doors from slamming with the natural movement of the ship
If you said “D”, you are correct! The bathrooms lock on both sides because if left to their own devices, they would swing and bang open and shut with the constant motions of the ship. So, when you use the bathroom, you have to lock it back when you finish. Now you know!