abuse of an Asian mussel

---Rewind three weeks---

In our first weekly lab meeting to set the field work schedule I sit.... fading in and out of direct contact with the world. For the most part, these meetings don't really apply to me (because I've finished my data collection), and I ponder why I am here.

I am asked what my schedule will be like for the next two weeks. With a spurt of excitement I say "Well, I'm turning in my first thesis draft next week, then I'm off to Minnesota for a wedding. After that, I'll have two weeks of time to help out....."

The excitement quickly wains. It dawns on me. What the hell did I just say? I have a sinking feeling in my stomach, but it's too late... I hear the pens scribble furiously, no doubt writing something to the effect of "Abuse the Asian mussel before he leaves".

---Fast forward to this week---

It is 7pm and I am on a 18' center console boat. Weesa and Shakira are my comrades on this epic journey that will last about 12 hours. Our task is to determine the fine scale movements of spiny lobsters within the La Jolla Ecological Reserve. In other words, we are cheap labor employed to follow lobsters around all night. A reputable scientist in the field of remote tracking (see telemetry) calls this "grad student powered". Akin to those decals that you see on tricked out rice rockets that say "Powered by Honda" or "Powered by rice". Just throw a couple grad students at this labor problem and you've got a cheap solution. "They'll do anything."

Indeed.

We arrive at the site and quickly locate the first three lobsters. No problem. But as we navigate to the fourth lobster I have the urge to throw up. Now those of you that know me know that I am no stranger to the worst affliction a marine biologist can possibly have, but this was not it. It was the inhalation of the exhaust fumes from the ancient two-stroke engine that I was sitting next too.

That's cool, we only have 10 hours to go.

I feel nauseous and I volunteer to take the first sleep shift (3 hrs) hoping that the sleep would eliminate my urge to fertilize the ocean with partially digested cheez-its. Sleeping on this boat means curling up in a sleeping bag on deck and pulling a beanie over your eyes. This usually works well, for the waves rock you as if you are inside a fiberglass crib. A nice gentle crib that occasionally sprays engine exhaust in YOUR FACE. It seems that the engine is determined to take others down with it, aided by occasional southerly breezes which waft fumes toward me. I drift off to sleep, thinking I should have brought my carbon monoxide detector with me. Will I ever wake up?

---Midnight---

I wake to hear the quiet chatter of voices and the occasional 'ping' from our machine that tells us we are near tagged lobsters. How soon my slumber ends. I take the helm as Weesa curls up for a wink.



Shakira and I ponder the virtues of graduate school and speculate what people in La Jolla do to afford such grand homes. They probably don't track lobsters.

6 am rolls around quickly and we decide that the lobsters have stopped moving for the night. We motor back through calm seas and get to the dock and clean the boat by 6:45. I'm back in my real bed by about 7:15. Real sleep with real sheets!

I awake from my deep slumber at about oh......3pm. Nice. I earned it. I also earned this veggie fried rice that I made with edamame, red and green peppers. I topped it with a veggie patty and splashed some Braggs Liquid Aminos on there for a nice afternoon breakfast.














See I told you I would blog about food.