In life there is no substitution for luck....
My name is Peter Galbraith and I am a research scientist at the Maurice Lamontagne Institute, an ocean science lab in the Government of Canada’s Department of Fisheries and Oceans. I have been involved in Arctic research off and on for 15 years and fieldwork up here still holds many surprises for me.

In this project, I am measuring mixing
caused by ocean turbulence using a
temperature microstructure profiler. At
least I try to. Things happen in the Arctic
and the vast support network that I rely on
back home to maintain equipment is not here
with me. I just have to do my best with
what I have, with the help of people around
me. This is such a story. When I came
aboard the ship ten days ago, I carried
with me a watertight connector that a
technician would replace on the damaged
profiler that I was to use. He discovered
another problem: the threads on the
profiler that hold the connector were
partly stripped. Nevertheless, after a
successful pressure test, I decided to
deploy the profiler and I obtained a good
cast of data. Things were looking good.
However, during the first cast on the
following day, the instrument flooded with
salt water. This is never a good thing.
Such a catastrophic event usually means
that your own research is finished on the
ship. After seeing salt water run out all
over the floor while opening it, that was
exactly my thought. I rinsed out the
electronics with filtered water, itself an
act that goes against your very instincts:
water and electronics don’t mix. This is
when I would normally ship the severely
damaged instrument back to the manufacturer
for massive repair and move on to something
else in my busy schedule. But I’m up here
at the top of the world for a number of
weeks with no way off, I’ve only been here
for a few days with little data to play
with, and I have been planning this
sampling for a long time and really want it
to succeed. Therefore, I let the instrument
dry out and set through the procedure of
replacing blown fuses, removing circuit
boards to clean them and fixing various
connections. During all this, I’m lucky to
be in contact via email with the
manufacturer as they guide me through the
repair process. I am amazed when the
instrument blinked back to life after two
days of tinkering.

After figuring out a way to seal the
instrument properly with a bolt and o-ring,
I was up and running again. Data was
flowing. Bypassing the troublesome
connector meant opening up the instrument
each time I needed to download data, but it
was working.

My troubles are over, right? I didn’t think
so last night when, winching the instrument
back to the surface, the cable got stuck in
the hinge of the moonpool door, 8 m below
the surface! In the end, a resourceful
seaman and I recovered the instrument with
a very long pole made by screwing four long
pieces of wood together, with hanger wire
at the end of it to use as a hook. We even
managed to pull the cable out of the hinge.
Still, I wonder what other surprises are in
store for me before I leave the
Arctic.
