Like Ellery I had very little snorkel experience before Palmyra and it is quite the place to start. My first snorkel here was an attempt to track the bumphead parrot fish. As I sputtered and swallowed salt water and felt my eyes burn from the water that had leaked into my mask, I had a hard time seeing how anyone could want to do this for fun. As it turned out, it's not always such a struggle, and in fact, I wasn't inherently horrible at snorkeling -- my mask was broken. My next two experiences were stark contrasts to my first, both amazing and exhilarating. It's like another world being underwater with nothing to listen to but the sound of your own breathing and the faint noise of fish chomping on bits of coral. The living images before you here seem to come straight out Planet Earth and even without a point of comparison, I'm awestruck by the magic of it. I can only imagine what Nick or Chris think having done a fair amount of snorekeling in less healthy reefs before.
If there was nothing in the water but the corals, it would still be a spectacular sight...perhaps the most impressive is the table top corals that are more twice as wide as we are tall. However for me, the magic is in the creatures that maneuver through and around the corals. I'm a huge "Finding Nemo" fan but watching little fish swim through staghorn corals in real life is infinitely better than watching it on a big screen. I could follow the activity in staghorn corals for several hours alone but I find the larger animals to be even more impressive. I've always loved sea turtles and practically squeel with excitement at every sighting. If the tides hadn't forced us to leave Tortegonias this morning, I would have tried to follow one for hours. While I'm not so keen about black tip and white tip sharks becoming too friendly with me, from a safe distance it's marvelous to watch them. Perhaps the highlight of today's snorkel was the chance to finally swim with a manta. Everytime we see one from a lagoon boat, Chris mourns the fact that we don't keep snorkels and masks on hand but today we were already in the water. Gliding smoothly through the water, mantas are one of the most majestic animals I've seen and it was magical to swim alongside one.
One other notable sight, though not living, was the longliner wreck. As Hillary told us, the ship belonged to Koreans who purposefully wrecked it in US waters under the belief that they'd be able to stay in America if their ship wrecked. Unfortunately for them, they were misinformed and got sent home. Meanwhile the ship has begun to leech iron into the water and has become somewhat of an environmental burden. Burden or not, it is still a sight to behold. This massive rusted ship is full of dark windows into it's murky interior. Whether or not real danger lurks inside, one can't shake the feeling that a tiger shark is just waiting for curious prey to swim by. In other words, I was glad to see it, but also glad to move on to our next snorkel site.
Lest you get the idea that our time here has turned entirely to fun and games, let me assure you that several projects have consumed most of our time over the past few days. Some of my favorites have included collecting feathers from boobies, tropic birds and frigates with Hillary (though the first tropic bird I saw didn't yield many feathers, it was the most adorable ball of fuzz I've ever seen) and taking tissue samples from groupers with Doug.
I think I speak for all of us when I say this has been a whirlwind experience thus far and it's hard to believe how little time we have left to take in everything that makes Palmyra so unique.

-Tessaly

We went snorkeling this morning!

You wouldn't think that after being on an island atoll for nearly a month the prospect of going snorkeling could still inspire enough excitement to lead a bunch of overworked undergraduates to wake up at 6:00 am after a 12 hour work day to go snorkeling. The fact that it did is not so striking if you consider that all our past efforts to go snorkeling have ended in debacle. 

The first time we made an attempt to view the for-reef was plagued by a rainstorm. With the strong winds churning up sand and clouds obstructing the sunlight the "viz" was somewhat disappointing. It being my first time seeing a coral reef, I was still utterly enchanted by what I saw but the assurance from Chris that it could get a lot better,  made me eager to go again.  The second time we were allotted time to snorkel we had a nasty little low pressure system appear just as we were leaving the dock. Although dismayed about the suboptimal weather, we were determined to stay in good spirits and make the most of the afternoon. Sadly, as we approached the mooring, we received a radio call ordering us in.  

After two failed attempts Doug jokingly conjectured that we are cursed and that the next time we get off to go snorkeling we would be told to collect rat traps the next day only to  be surprised by Hillary and him standing at the dock with our snorkel stuff ready, in an attempt to fake out the weather. Luckily, it was not necessary to resort to these tactics of deception for the weather looked kindly upon us this morning. We left the dock at 6:30 am just as the sun was beginning to rise. Our boat ride out was accompanied by a flaming eastern sky and pastel colored amalgam of fluffy clouds to the west. Our first destination was Tortagonias with its characteristic stag horn and tabletop corals. The early morning sun sent nearly horizontal spears of light through the water's surface, illuminating the coral on one side while leaving long shadows trailing off the other.

 I don't feel quite up to the task of describing what we saw today on the five sights we visited today so I think I'll let Nick's photos continue where I leave off.

What is the largest thing imaginable that you never tire to behold? A starry night sky, of course!

Since we’ve arrived here the moon has been rising several hours after sunset. Although beautiful in itself, I cherish the time before the silver orb peeks above the palm frawns for its light obliterates a view of the stars as stunning as it must have been to the first of mankind. It is not only the sheer number or stars that is so awe-inspiring; the velvety blackness in between is equally striking. It can be hard to make out the constellations since all the stars are so bright but I’ve been able to find all the constellations on the star map given to me by family friends before departing. Last night we had a clear sky and a new moon. We were relived from lab work that night so Chris, Nick and I wandered to North Beach to gaze at the stars. We attempted to sleep out on the beach but I don’t think any of us were very successful. Its hard to close your eyes when the milky way is wrapped across the firmament demanding adoration and hard to tune out the crashing of the waves and the screeching of the sooty terns; sounds that have been here millennia before the first human ear perceived them. I always wondered how early civilizations were able to gain such a sophisticated understanding of the motion of heavenly bodies. How the planets were distinguished from stars always puzzled me but as Nick pointed out, after several nights of stargazing the planets become obvious. We just never take the time to look anymore. The main reason is probably that in many places there isn’t much to look at anymore due to light and chemical pollution.

This is the perpetual theme of Palmyra: It is a place from another time, a time before we entered the anthropocene. Although it utterly new to me it provides a powerful feeling of being at home, a feeling of proximity to the sprit of our early human ancestry.

Finally! The Manta Ray Way...

Okay, okay, I know, I'm sorry. On June 9th I promised to talk about the Manta Ray Way the next day, and it is now... errrr... June 21st?! Oooops! I'm sorry to have kept the masses in suspense, clinging onto their tiny laptops wondering what the post containing the Manta Ray Way would hold - or maybe, you're reading this post and wondering what the hell I'm talking about...

In that case, let me get started! The last ten days have been absolutely INSANE! I've soared with manta rays, spun iradescent webs of galaxy with my feet, seen 1,000s of dolphins, yes, thousands, watched the sky slowly burst into morning flames, single handedly forced the ocean to boil for acres, played with hundreds of sharks, and all around had some of the most amazing experiences of my life. Let me explain...
Four of my last ten nights have been spent on a small 14-foot outboard motor boat, continually tracking a single manta ray to monitor its behavior and movement patterns. If you're wondering what exactly a manta ray is, as I originally was, click here. Or, feel comforted that these are some of the most beautiful creatures I've witnessed. These rays normally range between 5-10 feet wide (that's HUGE!) and glide slowly through the sea, softly escorting invisible plankton into their gaping mouths. After following these big fellas for a while I have a favor to ask of you all; whenever someone drops the rare phrase, "Let's take the scenic route," I want you to respond, "You mean the Manta Ray Way, right?" I know, I know, lame right? But utterly true. These giant creatures have not a hurry in the world as they peacefully glide through the sea, spinning gorgeous barrel rolls and traversing steep cliffs to corral plankton.

While following the mantas through wind, rain, and all out stormy hell, invisible phytoplankton blink neon green around your boat, like lightning bugs of the sea. They weave constellations and galaxies as they gush out of the motor, or if walking on shallow flats, they duly shimmer, a little stunned at the weight of your fat feet. The best part: you can never take a photo of them, they cease to exist if you try. Any light overpowers their impressive iradescence. And if these guys aren't enough, at the end of the night you often get to see the sky split into fire, splashing flames into the sea.

One particular day, after tracking manta rays all night, I stepped off the small boat onto a slightly larger boat for all day shark tagging, preparing myself for the most insane 36 hour marathon of wakefulness in my life. This second journey consisted of boating with thousands of bottlenose dolphins, spinner dolphins, and melon headed whales, along with trains of fifteen+ mantas. The spinner dolphins often launched so high in front of the boat we had to alert NASA...

All of this occured before arriving at our prime sharking area. That's when the chum entered the water and the men in trim grey and white suits came out. As they worked themselves into a frenzy, we began tagging mostly Grey Reef and Galapagos sharks, between 5-7 feet long. In order to tag them we had to first catch them, and this involved carefully drawing the beasts of the sea to the side of the boat with short thick line, where you then had to reach over the boat and grab the shark by its dorsal and tail to succesfully tag it. Keep in mind this all occurred while other sharks tried to bite or naw the bait out of the caught shark's mouth. But don't worry, we always had angels watching over our backs, or maybe their actual name is fairy tern...

After reeling in about 30 sharks I felt like a true man... a truly exhausted man that is! I'm glad to inform you all limbs returned home safe, and all sharks returned peacefully to the deep. Although, when one 8+ foot Galapagos shark snagged my bait and ran so hard it broke the line engineered for shark catching, I had second thoughts about the important things in life...

But anyway, we'll all be here waiting for you all to come join us as usual...

Or maybe I'll just meet you in the coconut palms

Success!

Hey this is Nick!

Just a quick update on the pollen core. We've been working hard to iron out all of the kinks and perfect our techniques/equipment, and today we pulled up two 3 meter long cores from the lagoon! They both should be long enough to answer the coconut question.

And something cool: You can see the point that the Navy came here and dredged around. There is a thin layer of sand sitting about half a meter below the surface of the sediment. Other than that, the core looks pretty  much homogenous (thick tan paste) all the way through. Cool!

Hello! This is Nick, and I'm writing about the pollen core project we've been working on for the last few days.

Dave Wahl, a paleoclimatology researcher from Berkeley, came on the plane a few days ago with the new staff, and he has been working with Hillary, Ellery, Marra, and I over the last two days as we built and tested a drilling platform for the middle of the lagoon. We designed the platform to hold a 10 foot tripod, sediment drill, and five people over the deepest part of the western lagoon. It's 12 feet long and 16 feet wide with a hole in the middle for the drill and it floats on gigantic 20 foot styrofoam pontoons we found out behind the workshop.

We're sampling the silty bottom 50 meters below the surface of the water. The goal is to get several 3 or 6 meter long cores of sediment that hopefully will go back 2,500 years in order to search for coconut palm pollen grains. We think the trees may have been introduced here by Polynesians in the relatively recent past (via Fanning Island) and we're trying to pinpoint the time the trees first arrived in Palmyra.

We built the platform in only a few hours yesterday and spent the rest of the time installing the luxury items (an elevated shade tarp and a few comfy lawn chairs) and anchoring and testing the platform. While we were situating the drill this afternoon, I volunteered for the somewhat unsettling job of snorkeling down through the murky water and double-checking the tip. Right before jumping in, Hillary reminded me that, "There are sharks down there, you just can't see them, and there are probably tiger sharks around, so try not to splash around too much." She assured me I had a "high chance of being alright," and then I hopped in. I spent about fifteen minutes in the water diving down to 10 feet and guiding the tip of the drill, and the whole time I was waiting for some big looming shadow to materialize out of the green-tinted waters all around me. All went well until I was back on the platform with my head in the water tieing off the last knots, and a big looming shadow did materialize out of the murk! And it turned out to be Dave Wahl swimming at me from under the other side of the raft with a video camera strapped to his head. In initial fright, I screamed something explicit through my snorkel. I'm sure the video is priceless!

We haven't gotten a sediment core yet, but we did pull up a small practice sample. The sediment down there is super fine and has the exact consistency as toothpaste. We joked that if it didn't smell like hard-boiled eggs, it would make a great face mask at the spa.

Hopefully we will get a few cores tomorrow. Until then, adieu.

Good evening, fine friends
I hope you enjoy haikus
Here's a series of them

My name is Marra
Rising Earth Systems senior
I study oceans

I love the outdoors
The land, the sea, and the sky
And that's why I'm here

Our group is lucky
Few people ever come here
And yet here we are

In the news today
Pollen cores and tagging sharks
Very exciting

And the best part is
That these projects will go on
For several days

Information on
Vegetation history
Comes from pollen cores

Movement patterns and
Feeding habits and pop. size
That's why we tag sharks

Excitement tonight
The manta ray team is out
Tracking with sonar

So in a nutshell
Science is so much fun and
It's amazing here

That's all for tonight
Hope you are all doing well
Goodnight, everyone

Who's that goofy kid?

Howzit going everyone, this is Chris dropping in again for another update on our Palmyra ventures. I want to throw out a special thank you to all those dedicated bloggers that have pushed us up the blogging charts to 129,029,356th most read blog on the planet... Excuse my blog DJ lingo, I'm trying to push us up those popularity charts...

I realized today that I haven't told you all much about myself, and while some of the most scarily persistent viewers of this blog know more than enough about me (hi mom and grandma!), most of you probably know very little. As hinted at before, I'm a Stanford undergrad from Hawai'i who loves to surf. I spend as much time as possible outdoors, hiking, biking, surfing, or just talking story at the beach with friends, and scarce time in front of a screen, whether it be a computer (oops, breaking that one right now!), cell phone, or TV. My time on this atoll flies as I'm mesmerized by its beauty and daydreams about a particular girl - that's my way of asking you to excuse my thoughts if they seem a little loopy :-) Here's a picture for your own contemplation, whatever it may concern.

I'll be back in tomorrow to talk about The Manta Ray Way, but sleep calls...

Half a Day Off in Paradise

After a long night in the lab yesterday sorting through the contents of a hundred insect traps, we were all overjoyed to hear we would have the afternoon off to go snorkeling. Each of us had morning tasks to complete before we headed out the west lagoon to explore two famed underwater gardens. I for my part serviced the underwater camera and microphone located in the reef on the lagoon side of the eastern most island, called Barren. There are a number of bumphead parrotfish that like to hang out in that area. These parrotfish feed on coral and the astounding thing is that each bite they take makes an audible sound. The microphone captures each bite they take, while the camera is there to catch the fish in flagrante.

Like always I hitched a ride to the east lagoon and then set out for North Barren in my Kayak. I leave the east lagoon through a cut between two islands and then a traverse a shallow sandy area before reaching the coral gardens that lie beside Barren island. I have to admit this is a task I really enjoy. Paddling through the open waters is a welcomed respite from the somewhat cramped feeling I tend to get on the small, densely vegetated islands that make up the atoll. The commute is also a moment of precious alone time, which is rare because most tasks require more than at least two people for safety as well as practicality.

When I pass through the cut that leads out of the east lagoon I feel like I'm the first person to witness this pristine site. In the daydreams that sweep through my mind while I execute the steady, rhythmic paddling motion, I switch between the role of the intrepid explorer and the the secret service agent on a mission. Servicing the microphones is such a bizarre juxtaposition of of pure nature and high technology. It looks like no one has ever been here before and yet Sony and Panasonic have made their presence here. I dive down and take the devices out of their cages on the seabed before changing the batteries and memory cards from them. When everything is tied tight and running I hurry back to station, in eager anticipation of my first snorkeling trip.

But now it's bed time, and sleep must not wait! Hopefully I will have time to describe my sights, or perhaps better, I will leave you to create your own water wonderland.

The supplies have arrived!

I'm Eva, a rising junior Human Biology major with an Area of Concentration in environment and environmental policy. I'm from Manhattan, which is just about as different from Palmyra as a place can be, and in case it hasn't been said enough, I feel so unbelievably lucky to be here. In the six days that I have been on the atoll I have done everything from snorkeling with sharks (don't worry Mom, they were only about a foot long) to tracking mantas through beautiful sparking waters, to walking through moonlit forests in search of spiders that have eyes so big that they reflect light. I have acquired a really attractive seasickness wristband tan (think symmetrical watch tans) although I'm not sure if it rivals Tessaly's shorts burn. I have seen fish in more colors than I knew existed, and I have found out just how wily and destructive hermit crabs can be.

The big excitement around camp today was the arrival of our supply barge, which brought us gasoline, lab supplies, food, new boat and engine equipment, and a gang of happy sailors to spice up dinnertime. The barge only comes once a year, so the shear volume of materials it brought was astounding. Even the quantities of cleaning supplies were mind-boggling.

It's hard to believe that we have already spent a week here. We've been so busy that time has just flown by: each day is so much more amazing than the last that you just stop keeping track.

4th of July calls for celebration!

Hi everyone,
Before I talk about our festivities for the holiday, I'll briefly introduce myself. I'm Tessaly and like Nick I'm an Earth Systems major. I feel lucky to have happened upon and been given this amazing opportunity. I walked into the Earth Systems office one day, frantic about finding a summer job/internship and someone suggested looking at the Biology Department's field studies website. I found the blog from last year's Palmyra crew and was astounded by their pictures and stories...and then even more astounded when I found out a few months later that I'd be taking my own pictures and creating my own stories here.
I could say we work hard here but I can't complain considering that everytime I look up I see this beautiful atoll surrounding me. Still, it was nice to get off a bit early tonight to partake in some 4th of July celebrations. The station's staff prepared a traditional American dinner and festivities afterward. The nights "opening ceremonies" included a flare and smoke signal show which led into games and prizes (bouncing basketballs into buckets and hitting balloons with darts to win things like fashionable foam flower bras, dracula capes and fake mustaches). The night ended with a bonfire under the cloudy moonlit sky and a run down the beach with flaming flares. Not your traditional 4th of July fireworks but surely a memorable night!

-Tessaly

Two Days Before the Manta

Douglas McCauley, one of our supervisors from Hopkins, recently tagged a two-meter manta ray in the eastern lagoon, and our team has spent the last two days tracking the ray by sonar in our small lagoon boat, noting position every five minutes. With Doug, I took the night shifts, remaining with the manta from 7:30 PM to 7:30 AM for two consecutive nights. Paul and Eva came to relieve us in the morning and tracked the manta during the day.

I will try to give an impression of how the night passed in our little lagoon boat, and I believe Eva will do the same for the daylight hours:

It's 1 AM and raining. The blue tarp strung above me flaps violently in the wind, the waves beneath our boat slap against the fiberglass, and the rain patters all around as I curl up with damp towels trying to catch a wink of sleep before my next shift. The night is fresh, and we are tracking a tagged manta ray in the moonlit waters of the eastern lagoon. Doug is at the helm, somehow using his two hands and tired body to work a hydrophone, steer the boat, avoid the rock ledges that line the lagoon, record data, and hide from the periodic and sudden showers of rain that frequent these latitudes.

Doug calls in on the radio to let them know all is well, and I rise from fitful sleep and strange dreams to assume my post till morning. The manta has been slowly pacing the same ledges all night and making long and lazy lines along the same miles of coastline since we started tracking two days ago. I grab the handle of the hydrophone in one hand and the throttle of the motor in the other and situate the headphones over my ears. The incessant sharp yellow pings of the sonar punctuate the passing moments, and somehow they remind my tired brain of sharp cheddar cheese. Half-delirious, I locate the manta and edge slowly towards the signal, stooping soon to record the 1:05 AM position.

Closer now to the channel, the tides pull strongly across the tidal flats in front of me, and a brisk offshore breeze keeps me well off the rocks as I take the 1:10 AM position. The clouds race by from the east above me, carried swiftly along by the trade winds. A planet – either Jupiter or Venus – is rising over palm-tufted Whippoorwill Island.

The night passes slowly and I watch the moon, stars, and planets dance across the sky. Part of me is occupied with the tasks at hand, part of me thinks “What have I gotten myself into?” and yet another part marvels at the quiet beauty and elegance of this place at night.

-Nick

Exhausted but Exhilarated!

Aloha everyone, howzit going? I hope all is well! 

The last few days have been amazing but draining, as we work from 8:15 a.m. to 10:30 p.m. or so, with a few short breaks and meals squeezed in-between! I've learned to drive an outboard motor boat, solo sail, operate a complicated fisheye camera (with 3 different on/off buttons, that's something to brag about!), and best of all, how to recognize a blattodae... also known as a cockroach to non-nerds ;-) 

Everything I've learned and experienced has occurred in one of the most beautiful places I've visited. Today I saw 30+ black tip sharks in different locations, with 10 babies about a foot long congregated at the newest water mall, apparently rebelling against their parents. Furthermore, we ran into a coconut crab with claws the size of your face - We named him Mr. Grumpy.

 

I realized today it's hard to appreciate the beauty of Palmyra to its fullest, simply because there are absolutely no buildings or signs of human harm anywhere. As a result, there is nothing for you to constantly compare and contrast this astounding atoll with, so your mind weirdly accepts it as a normal setting that should occur worldwide... Unfortunately, as I'm sure we're all aware, that is not the case.

Nonetheless, we are here as a group of Stanford students, hoping to learn enough so we can work towards what we want our world to look like in the future. Until then, we'll be sitting here waiting for you.

Day One: What a lively place!

Hello!

My name is Nick Wenner, and I am writing the blog after our first day at work on Palmyra.

Here are a few important things about myself:
I like nectarines.
I like the feel of rain on my back when I'm floating in a hottub.
I feel bad hanging up on telemarketers.
I aspire one day to visit the deep sea.
I wonder what happens to balloons after you let them go.

I am an Earth Systems major at Stanford (our version of environmental science), and I am working at Palmyra this summer (officially) to complete an internship. Unofficially, I am here to see thousands of seabirds, coral reefs, sharks, and manta rays. Manta rays! In general, I intend to bask in the glory of this amazing lively place.

This first thing I noticed upon arriving on Palmyra was how many creatures I found around me. As we walked on the dirt road from the runway, meaty hermitcrabs scuttled clumsily on their way and thick ferns lapped at the edges of the road. As I peered over the edge of the dock with my nose almost touching the water, dozens of delicate shrimp hovered in the water below me, their slender antennae and attentive eyes tracking my every move. Everywhere I looked I found charismatic organisms - and lots of them - living their own beautiful and unique lives.

This Homo sapiens' life has been beautiful and unique lately as well. Today, our group split up and worked throughout the entire atoll and saw many of its natural attractions. I worked on a three-person team hiking across the southern coasts of the atoll setting insect traps, and as we crawled through underbrush and waded across the shallow lagoons linking the many small islands that make up this atoll, we found beetles, nesting boobies, pufferfish, and ghost crabs. Ten or more black tip reef sharks cruised in packs in the shallows of Kaula Island, forcing schools of very oppressed looking reef fish into the rubble at our feet! We saw baby black tips - no more than 16 inches long - and several large jacks feeding on bait fish in the inner lagoon. All this and a beautiful blue sky broken only by refreshing squalls of rain, undisturbed white sand, and the impressive roaring thunder of waves on the outer break: This is a nice place to be.

Sadly, I have no pictures to share today. We spent the day digging holes, crawling through brush, and wading through lagoons, and it was very wet, sandy, and dirty: No place for a camera! I am very excited to practice my wildlife photography, however, and I will hopefully be adding many shots in my posts to come. I hope to share with you some of the beauty of this place and its inhabitants.

Until then, goodbye!

Nick

P.S. Hi Mom and Dad!

Leaving Hawai'i for Paradise...

Aloooohhhaaaaa! My name's Chris and I'm a Stanford undergraduate currently connecting with you all from Palmyra, a small atoll that's about 1,000 miles to the south of Hawai'i, or, for those of you that don't orient yourselves with respect to Hawai'i, 5 degrees north of the equator in the middle of the Pacific! If you want more info than the above link provides, click here, but don't report me for using Wikipedia as a source, I might get hate mail from past English teachers...

My day started out surfing at 5 a.m., as I snuck in a couple waves with friends before arriving at the airport at 8 :-) Don't worry! I was a responsible surfer and made it to the airport on time, which is why I  currently find myself here, and not crying on a curb with my research group basking in crystal waters. Since Palmyra is a marine reserve focusing on research, further coupled with extreme isolation and an absurd concentration of sharks, surfing is understandably banned for my own safety (and productivity!).

But, when you're on a pristine atoll, who can complain about not surfing, or anything for that matter?! We made the 1,000 mile journey on a small charter plane, that lo and behold, didn't charge you for drinks! I was so happy I drank Liliko'i juice until I was sick! 

The first view of the atoll made everyone scramble and gasp, most likely to the exasperation of the pilots who were fed up with college students drinking all their Liliko'i juice and gawking out the windows ;-)

Nevertheless, we landed safely, despite the small plane and bucking horse runway.

After a severe economic crisis on the atoll as a result of our quadrupling its population, we quickly got to work, learning about safety, the treasured wildlife, and how to operate boats and other equipment. But don't worry, we made sure to soak in the powdery white beach and crystal glass of unpolluted waters, although fist sized hermit crabs and land crabs the size of our heads threatened us with their menacing pinchers (or maybe they were simply throwing their claws in the air and crying for help in inaudible melodies). 

Much more to come soon, but I've gotta stop sneaking out of my chores and help my colleagues get prepared for our 8 a.m.-6 p.m. day of field work tomorrow. Until then, take care, and don't worry, we're not going anywhere soon.