Expedition in the Arctic Region - page 5

Five o'clock in the morning. On the screens in the control room of the submarine, we observe the pulling in of the fyke nets that we disposed on the bottom of the sea, more than 36 hours earlier. A fascinating spectacle! Around our nets, two big eelpouts are swimming ; they are the only species of fishes that we could observe during the different plunges of the Victor. The water around the apertures of our nets is teeming with isopods, a kind of marine pill bugs : they are still completely recovered by the sediments in which they were probably hiding. One of the hinged grabs of the Victor picks up the float placed above the nets and deposits them in the basket at the front of the submarine. A fish that was still reckoning with a meal in the nets, opens its mandible in order to catch the grab of the submarine. In vain. The submarine moves to the next stop. Now and then, a deeply red shrimp (Pandalus borealis), a red jellyfish or copepods are passing by, against a background comparable with a moonscape. In the neighbourhood we observe a magnificent white sponge looking like a vase with a spiralled base. Again, Victor's grab is performing wonderfully : with endless delicacy, it picks up the sponge that the smallest wrong manipulation could break like glass, and deposits it undamaged in the basket.

When Victor's aboard the Polarstern again, we have to concentrate on our fieldwork. Quickly, we pull in the nets and deposit them in bins filled with seawater. The skeletons of the herrings, i.e. what remains of the bait, are crawling with amphipods. In the cold rooms, we open the nets for a first sorting. The living specimens immediately arrive in aquariums : we will use them for experiments concerning alimentary behaviour. The others are divided in two groups, one to be put in formalin, for morphological studies, the other to be put in non denaturalised alcohol, for molecular studies (extraction and amplification of DNA). These precious samples, taken at a depth of more than 2,500 m, should allow us to study the origin and the determinants of deep water biodiversity in the polar regions.

With the Victor back on board, the Polarstern is heading north to collect samples at another station, with the help of more classical instruments, such as the giant box corer, the multiple corer or the rosette. Unfortunately, the point where the samples were to be collected, is covered by floating pack ice; we will have to break our way through it for a distance of about 4 miles. With her four motors turning at full blast, the Polarstern starts her confrontation with the pack ice. The stem of the boat climbs on the ice and with her entire weight the Polarstern falls upon the ice, which breaks in huge pieces, pushed aside and backwards. The Polarstern is groaning and roaring but she slows down. Finally she stops and heels over considerably, meanwhile a seal, totally amazed, is observing the scene at a distance of 100 metres. Even though the Polarstern is able to break her way through ice with a thickness of more than 1,50 m without slowing down significantly, the pack ice here seems to be even more resistant. The Polarstern goes astern, gains speed and tries again. This to-and-fro will have lasted for more than two hours, when finally the CEO of the expedition decides to abandon. Nature's will is God's will.

Under the midnight sun, we're about to reach a new sampling station, more southward, when suddenly, the loudspeakers of the Polarstern announce a polar bear, swimming on larboard, at less than 50 m. This is exceptional, even for the colleagues used to this polar region (but can one really get used to these magnificent landscapes?). The Polarstern slows down and stops. The bear, attracted by the smells, seems to speak as follows : "Hello gentlemen aboard the Polarstern. You seem beautiful, you seem good". It comes out of the water and approaches our boat, stops at less than 30 m, driven crazy by the smells. Normally the Polarstern is the scene of ever lasting activities, but now, everything is brought to a standstill. Only an explicit order of going back to work was able to convince us not to watch this gentle looking animal anymore. Some magic moments can wipe out the traces of tumultuous nights and ungrateful work, in the vapour of formalin, with our hands injured by the mud and the salt water, or locked up for several hours in a container at 1°C.