Armstrong Notes

Written by Izzy Kuethe, Rutgers University School of Arts and Sciences, Geological Sciences Major, Class of 2026

Date: September 29th, 2025

Beauty in the Night Shift 

Working the night shift, our hours are spent inside, looking at a wall of screens that show anything and everything important. One screen displays a GPS tracker of our ships, showing our waypoints and plan for the night. Often, it takes three hours to complete a line before the ship starts rumbling, takes a turn, and is followed by a call from the Third Mate asking where to set the next waypoint. Another screen displays a comprehensive list of values that indicate the ship's speed, water temperature, salinity, wave height, and other relevant details. The top three screens display video footage of the ship's back deck, where hands-on work takes place. Three more screens display the SBP29 acoustic data. These are the screens on which we watch the seismic lines and acoustic returns. We are many miles from shore, but often it feels like we have left the world altogether. The dark blue Atlantic stretches in every direction, with no visible horizon at night. Rarely, while out on the deck launching the XBT probes, we will spot a few sparkling lights in the distance, the only hint of other life for days. It's easy to pretend that we are on a spacecraft floating through the never-ending void. The few mornings that we stayed up to watch the sun rise almost felt like we were watching from worlds away. 

It is a small group that works the night shift here. Most of the science crew works during the day. Shifts are 12 hours long, from 6:00 a.m. to 6:00 p.m. A few of the day crew members will usually keep working past 6 pm. They slowly start to trickle out, announcing “goodnight’s” and “see you tomorrow" between 8 pm and midnight. There are only five of us working the night shift, and lately we have been passing the time by talking and getting to know each other, asking questions like what path took them to working on a research vessel, to telling funny stories about our animals back home. I like the small group environment. In a way, it has helped dampen the isolating feeling of being away from home. 

It was about 7 hours into our shift when Alex, who takes some of his breaks stargazing on the deck, came in and announced that there were dolphins. I stood up so fast, following him to the door that led to the deck and equipping my life vest. I peered over the edge, looking down at the white capped waves flowing off the sides of our ship. There was a flash of movement in the water, and a large pod of dolphins shimmered under the surface of the waves. A dolphin broke through the surface, blowing out a puff of misty air, and one after another, the dolphins would rise above, playing and surfing the wake of our boat. 

Emily and I took videos (most of the audio consists of us exclaiming in awe every 5 seconds). We sat out on the edge of the deck for almost a whole hour that night, watching the show. I watched as a little pink squid, about 5-6 inches, swam along the side of the boat. It wasn't long before I realized that the dolphins were chasing and eating them! Two nights later, another pod of dolphins came to visit us. This time, I saw the dolphin swirl in for the strike when, to my amazement, the squid jumped out of the water and over the dolphin’s head, narrowly avoiding the fate of being a dolphin’s midnight snack.

I couldn’t believe what I was seeing so close, right in front of me. Their sleek and shimmery bodies looked almost too ethereal to be real. It was a mesmerizing reminder that even in the middle of what feels like nowhere, life is thriving. A reminder that we are not in the vast expanse of space and that the ocean is full of magic and mystery, above the surface and below. 

In those moments, we weren’t scientists staring at a wall of data but simply humans experiencing this magic. 

Moments like this anchor you when you are at sea. When the dolphins slipped back into the dark, the ship once again felt like a vessel drifting out into space, except something was different. We felt uplifted by the joy and shared connection. This experience is singular. It was meaningful, distinct, and defining of life at sea and special in ways one can only experience in the void of the ocean. 

Written by Vidushi Dhaka, Rutgers University School of Arts and Sciences, Planetary Science Major, Class of 2026

Date: September 26th, 2025

Working Through Challenges

Seasickness hit harder than expected. Even with patches, I’ve had moments where Bonine was the only option, even if it made me drowsy. It’s tough trying to stay focused when your body feels off, but that’s part of being here. For me, this cruise was always about pushing past the things that made me nervous: fieldwork, being uncomfortable, not being in control. You can’t only study geology from a computer. You have to step into the harder parts as well.

Chris, on the day shift, has his own version of challenges. While the three of us are trying to keep our eyes open at 3 am, he’s juggling everything that piles up midday. Different struggles, same outcome: you just adapt.

What has helped most is realizing how collaborative this work is. At Rutgers, most of my projects were either independent or directly supervised by a professor. Here, people with 6 months of experience work side by side with people who’ve been on ships for over 6 years. Everyone’s contribution counts. That kind of inclusivity motivates you to give your best.

Becoming a Shipboard Scientist

On the night shift, Emily, Izzy, and I (Vidushi) conduct SBP-29 surveys, which are sub-bottom profiles that enable us to image sediments within the New England Mud Patch (NEMP). The instrument we’re using has higher resolution than older ones, so our data will add to what’s already known.

We also launch XBTs (Expendable Bathythermographs) every ~4 hours. One person logs the serial number, two head outside with the probe, and we radio the bridge to make sure it’s safe. The probe is lowered into the chute, and as it sinks, it sends temperature data through the thin copper “science glitter” wire. Once it hits the bottom, we cut the line. At night, it’s a strange feeling; your headlamp lights up just a few feet around you, and the rest is pitch black ocean.

Besides that, there’s a lot of logging and checking equipment. Sometimes the software malfunctions, and fixing it requires patience. It doesn’t sound the most exciting thing out there, but it’s the small details that make the bigger science possible.

Written by Vidushi Dhaka, Rutgers University School of Arts and Sciences, Planetary Sciences Major, Class of 2026

Date: September 26th, 2025

Arriving in Woods Hole

We arrived at the Woods Hole Oceanographic Institute (WHOI) around 6 pm. I had always pictured Woods Hole as this shiny New England place with yachts and summer homes. But standing there, it felt different. The town really revolves around science. Posters on the walls, people moving around in field gear, and laboratories tucked into corners — it all showed how research fuels this place. That made me feel like I wanted to belong here, like this is a community that values what I care about.

Parking was a small nightmare, and we were already nervous about making a good first impression. We gave Dan Orange (the co-principal investigator for this project) a quick call before meeting him in person. DanO is exactly the kind of person you notice: strong, bold voice, but also welcoming. I admire that confidence and hope I can carry it myself one day. Meeting new people in science makes me overthink every word, but I’ve realized most people don’t expect undergrads to show up as experts. They value curiosity and the willingness to try, and that’s something I can offer. That mindset helped me through that first night.

Rutgers has given me numerous opportunities to see this in action. Even though Earth and Planetary Sciences is a small department, the people are so passionate about their fields that you learn as much from their energy as from their lectures. Watching professors dedicate decades to one niche and still light up about it is something I’ll never stop being amazed by. I carried that perspective with me as we started this cruise. I’m not here to prove I know everything, but to learn and add what I can.

First Steps On Board

Stepping onto the deck for the first time was exciting and intimidating. The main lab was filled with people everywhere, busy but still smiling at us. The ship is large, but inside, it feels cramped and crowded. You quickly realize how many moving parts are involved in keeping everything running smoothly.

People here have their own shorthand. If you don’t catch on, you risk falling behind. My favorite term so far is calling the thin copper wire from an XBT “science glitter.” During the last leg, someone even gave it as a birthday gift, wrapped around Styrofoam. It’s silly, but it also shows how people here make light of the small things.

The crew is split into clear groups. The science team runs the projects and experiments. The technical crew—the SSGs—are the ones who fix everything and are thoroughly familiar with the instruments. The deck crew keeps the ship itself running, constantly working against rust and repairing whatever the ocean throws at us. And then the stewards, probably the most important for morale, who make the food and handle housekeeping. The food has honestly surprised me. Fresh, healthy, and balanced meals three times a day. And on top of that, “cheese 30” every afternoon with a full charcuterie board. It’s a highlight. Still, on night shifts, Izzy and I fall back on instant ramen when we need something comforting at 2 am.

You slowly figure out the layout: the mess hall (galley) is where everyone comes together, the labs are full of screens and cables, and the bunks are small but cozy once you pull the curtain. Everything feels compact but purposeful. After a couple of days, it starts to feel normal.