The Bridge Wing Catwalk
[This post written 6/15/08; position: lat -57’49”, long -44’28”; temp -6C; wind chill -26C]
The sea has been a dark, seething mass today, whipped up by 25-knot winds. With the wind chill down around -26C, it doesn’t take long to get cold out there.
Thanks to the miracle of Meclozine, I was in good form today. So when I learned at today’s science meeting that John Helly would be out on the bridge wing catwalk this afternoon at 1:30, I made up my mind to go out, too, and see if I could get some pictures. I’m a bit shy of that catwalk. It scares me, as it hangs out over empty space with nothing but the Antarctic waters below it, and the railing is canted outward. But the possibility of a good photo was compelling.
John has been going out there daily to take laser measurements of the iceberg’s freeboard — that is, the part that is above the water. Using this and circumference data he gathers by tracking the ship as it circumnavigates the berg (and then correcting for the fact that the ship must stay a safe distance away), he’ll be able to compute the mass of the iceberg.
“But how do you know how much of the iceberg is underwater?” I asked, when he explained his process to me.
“The nature of water. If you have a chunk of ice floating in water, one-eighth of it will be above the water, and seven-eighths will be below.”
So I donned my Antarctic parka and climbed the multitude of stairs to the bridge. John and an assistant were already outside on the catwalk working with the laser. So out I went. I wish I knew the speed of the wind coming around the outside corner of the bridge wing. As it is, I only know it nearly picked me up and carried me off, after it had finished freezing my face. The catwalk was icy and slippery, too, which added a little extra suspense. I did get some decent photos. But I don’t recall thinking about much of anything except where I put my feet as I crept back along the catwalk, clinging to the railing, resolutely not looking down at the heaving swells. Good thing. It’s not a great situation in which to let one’s imagination run wild.
Was I ever in real danger? Probably not. It’s just that it doesn’t take much to scare me, which is probably a piece of what makes me good at writing horror stories. For all those fathers out there, including my own, Happy Father’s Day on this, the halfway point of our journey.