Category: Journalist Report

Crew 223 Journalist Report 10Mar2020

Author: Clément Plagne, Crew Journalist

Sol 9: Why we do it

If you’re reading this, it probably means that you’re either a family member or friend of ours, interested by science and the exploration of Mars, or both. From your point of view, being out in the desert and being like astronauts for some time is fascinating, or at least intriguing. There’s this funny bubble of odd people, who see the prospect of near-total isolation from the outside world as something to envy, or to try out yourself. They read about the golden age of superhero astronauts, and look with admiration to the people shooting themselves upwards to live in the literal middle of nowhere, six at most in a metal tube zipping through the vacuum of space.

I have no doubt that every member of our crew is in that bubble. But, as it turns out, most of the world lives outside of it. It’d be stupid to imagine ourselves as more adventurous or curious than them – and I like to imagine we’re no less normal than the rest. They simply don’t see the point, and it’s not unreasonable. They ask: how will you live away from everyone you love? Why would you live without showering for weeks? Why are you doing this?

From inside the bubble, it’s easy to dismiss those questions; they simply don’t get it. But they often do, and they make a great point. Everyone here misses loved ones. We miss being clean, we miss walking outside without 10 kilograms weighing on us, we miss eating whatever we want, we miss knowing all about the news, we miss watching any movie or reading any book we want. Some people say that a stay at MDRS is just a two-week vacation, a relaxing time away from everything, and they sure are wrong. But those who think that it’s the opportunity of two weeks of acting like cool astronauts are missing the point too.

Yes, there’s the honeymoon period, where everything is brand new and exciting, and you don’t think you can get enough of it. Every day has its unexpected moments of fun, and of learning. But the routine sets in fast too. Your hair gets greasy, the spacesuits begin to hurt a little, the experiments don’t work that well, and you can’t get new material in anyway. You remember the time where you could leave work at 5 and sit in a park, breathing the fresh air like everyone else. The distinction between work and daily life gets blurry. Things get boring, and that’s the point. So, yes, why are we doing this?

It’s funny how, after writing so negatively, I still have no regrets about being here. I don’t think anyone in the crew does either, and I’d be sad to imagine people leaving the MDRS wishing they’d done something else. No, it’s not that glam. If any one of us ever walks on Mars, it probably won’t be with the grandeur of the giant leap for mankind, but as one of many starting a colony out there. We don’t do it because it’s cool, no, and certainly not for the fun (though we do have a lot of it). It’s work, and that’s all there is. And that’s fine. Everyone needs to work. We all sacrifice a bit of our comfort to give it to others, and the world moves onward a little. Nearly everybody doesn’t even have the privilege of wondering why they’re doing their job, and there are very, very few jobs that don’t get boring or tiring.

I like to think every person is a dreamer. Our dream is to work so that, someday, humanity will flourish somewhere else, away from its cradle. It’s no more or less valid than any other. Here, we have the chance of working towards that dream. There are sacrifices, but few are those who get to try and turn their dream into reality. We’re alone, yes. We’re dirty, yes. But we’re lucky.

Crew 223 Journalist Report 09Mar2020
Author: Clément Plagne, Crew Journalist
Sol 8: Is there life on Mars ?

For all intents and purposes, we’re on Mars. Everything reasonably possible is done to make the MDRS feel like a real Martian base. We have protocols for everything, from safety communications for moving from place to place to knowing exactly how many grams of plants were harvested on a given day. We have boring powdered food, that tests our culinary creativity on the daily. We have beautiful, multicoloured, but barren landscapes that span as far as the eye can see. We have limited water, and virtually no outside air to breathe. We also have the iffy internet one might expect from a base several astronomical units away from Earth. All in all, it certainly doesn’t feel like home.

Yet, in some small ways, it still inevitably is. The MDRS is in the desert, and it is one dry place, but we’re still on Earth, and there’s some water out there. And where there is water, there is life. On our many times out, we saw plants or animal tracks frequently. We get the occasional insect hanging around in the Hab every so often. And, on lucky days like yesterday, we get to see live animals, such as the antelope we witnessed graciously running as we rode on our rovers. It’s funny to think that this was the first new vertebrate the four of us saw in a whole week. When you come to such an arid place and find, when looking a little harder, that some life is still thriving, it makes you think about how some form of life could have very well developed on Mars when conditions were better.

Sadly, nature is never left alone by humans. There’s the big scientific research base in the middle of nowhere, of course, but traces of human life are plenty elsewhere when you look for them. Every EVA team comes back with a plastic bag, a piece of paper or even a huge plastic box found in the field, littered and waiting an eternity to decompose. We simply can’t keep any place clean.

We’re some of the closest things to real Martian explorers, despite the few things in our ways. From here, things are exciting: the bold exploration and the fascinating science make the days go by fast. But it’s no great place to live, and it shouldn’t be. Comfort is far from the priority, and that’s expected. We can hope to have a Martian colony in the coming decades, but it’s hopeless to think life will be as easy as it ever was on Earth. Sustainable human life on another planet is an exciting step forward, but it’ll never replace living where we evolved to be. There’s no place quite like home, and we realise it all the time here at MDRS. We can hope for the first words from the surface of Mars to be “Keep home clean while we’re away, there’s no better place to stay”.

Crew 223 Journalist Report 08Mar2020

Author: Clément Plagne, Crew Journalist

Sol 7: Learning and Teaching

Sunday is a rest day. We’re not fully inactive (a two-week mission is far too short to allow that), but we at least got a break to get some more sleep and recover from the daily sports sessions and long EVAs. Batteries don’t know about rest days and still needed a short EVA to be taken care of. Like yesterday, this was accomplished through a fully silent EVA, to allow for those who didn’t get to try out the procedure yet to attempt it as well. They were done swiftly, and the morning carried on in the Hab as we played and cooked. There’s a lot to unwind from even a week inside the Station, so taking the time to do that was very much needed for everyone.

We’re all students from the same engineering school, all belonging to one club focused on the exploration of Mars. And while an MDRS mission is a lot of work to prepare, it’s still only two weeks in the year.

So, we and the club members who don’t go to the MDRS get busy with other activities: mainly intervening in local middle and high schools to discuss space, astronautics, and science in general. While being on our own to learn about things we love is a great experience, going out and teaching others about the same thing and seeing their interest grow is just as great.

It was, therefore, a pleasant surprise to learn that an educational science TV show in France was interested in our mission, and wanted us to record a visit of the station to be featured in an episode about living in space.

Being the Crew Journalist, it fell upon me to be the talking head and spend time in front of the camera. I don’t think my crewmates minded, as it was an awkward experience all around. It took a while to get the hang of it, but overall it turned out to be great fun, with the blooper reel being far longer than anticipated. It’s a whole lot easier to do science, all things considered. It’ll remain a fun memory from a slower day, and, if the footage is usable, I can’t wait to not see myself broadcasted once I’m back home.

The end of the day was as calm as its beginning, with Blandine’s relaxation sessions working wonderfully as always. Sometimes too much, but at least we didn’t hear any snoring this time, so that’s a plus. We’ll all try to get our work done as early as we can to lay down and watch a movie, as we didn’t get the chance so far.

Crew 223 Journalist Report 05Mar2020
Author: Clément Plagne, Crew Journalist
Sol 6
Title: The Sound of Silence
A couple days ago on EVA, Marion unfortunately lost the use of her comms
headset, making her incapable of communicating with the rest of the
expedition by radio. Fortunately, thanks to the little nonverbal
communication we’d all learned to be more efficient, she was able to
pass over her EVA leader role and carry on the EVA normally. This
situation made Aurélien wonder: what if all our comms failed? EVAs limit
our senses drastically already, as the bulky suits limit our vision and
our movement. Even with the radios, it can prove difficult to coordinate
rovers on the road. As he came back in the Hab, he asked the question:
could we carry on an entire EVA without once using our radios?

Communication is the absolute centre of any EVA. We need to be clear
with the HabCom inside, who needs data on vehicles and water outside,
needs to give us permission to get in and out of various zones, and
requires updates to be given as we stop near the Hab to change batteries
on experiments set up within communication range. Between crewmembers on
EVA, communication is kept to a minimum, as radio chatter quickly
becomes impossible to understand if people try to talk over one another.
What remained, however, was of course the important communications:
whether everyone was feeling alright, what direction we need to be
going, or when the rovers need to stop or turn. A lot of crucial
communication goes through those radios, and imagining the ways to
eliminate the need for them and find alternatives is a tough task. While
we were outside yesterday morning with Blandine, Valentin and Florian,
Aurélien, Luc and Marion were thinking of a protocol to carry on a fully
silent EVA.

The final proposal, as given to us by Luc, was clever and felt fool
proof. Our five required minutes of airlock depressurisation would be
directed by the lights turning on or off by the HabCom on the other
side. The beginning measurements of data from the water tank and rovers
around the Hab were distributed among us, and would be relayed by Marion
using hand gestures to Valentin, our HabCom, looking through a window in
the Hab. He would respond similarly and give us the go or no go to take
the rovers outside. To ensure that no rover was left behind on the way,
the one in front would periodically stop and wait to be passed by the
other, and the dance would go on until reaching our destination. By
foot, most things can be done by mime – hand gestures were decided to
tell each other about our levels of fatigue and pain, making sure that
we can go back if someone is too uncomfortable.
The test was a complete success, and the EVA went on nominally without
one word spoken. Two years ago, the Supaéro MDRS crew drew up similar
plans on how to carry on an EVA in case of injury of a crewmember. These
are all possible events during an EVA, and we were glad to continue
doing research on similar themes. The communication between crews on a
year to year basis is one of the strengths of our missions, and this
gives us great hopes for even better experiments in the years to come.

The Science Dome was a lot less quiet though. Marion’s experiment on
foreign language communication is still running strong, and the English,
German and Spanish speaking are still working to build LEGO figures and
find new ways to be understood by the other. The puzzles are getting
rather hard, but what’s interesting is that the speaking pairs are
starting to develop their own slang to describe different pieces, and
much less time is wasted compared to the first attempts. Next week, a
different game: Keep Talking and Nobody Explodes. An asymmetric,
fast-paced bomb defusal game where one person sees puzzles, but only the
others have the manual to solve them. We’re all getting right in sync,
so this can only be exciting!

Crew 223 Journalist Report 06Mar2020
Author: Clément Plagne, Crew Journalist
Sol 5
Title: Grounded
Mars is a colourful place. Today on EVA, we explored the North Ridge, a
hilly area a few miles from the Station. The exploration was rather
athletic, and we once again saw all sorts of terrain as we trudged up
and down the steep sandy slopes. It felt like we walked for hours and
miles, despite the area being rather small and us being done in about an
hour. It probably was because the terrain changes so much – in a matter
of minutes we went from red hills to rocky areas to grey, Moon-like
zones. It’s also probably because the heavy suits make us slower. Most
certainly, it’s a bit of both. The other great news is that the more
comfortable suits that had failed on our first EVAs have been handsomely
fixed by Luc and Aurélien, and now work fully. Begone, back pains!
The ground out there is barren and lifeless. Still, there’s somewhere
not too far where the soil is life-giving and fruitful. The greenhouse
is in full bloom thanks to the good work of Valentin, our devoted
GreenHab officer. Aromatics, radishes, carrots and many others are busy
growing all day long and may at some point be food for us. But there’s
another, odder, thing growing in the warmth of the GreenHab. In glass
tanks lives a green, bubbly mass called spirulina. They’re algae that
shine by the low area needed to grow it, and the massive amounts of
nutrition value it creates with very little input. In those two tanks
that occupy very little of the water consumption and space of the
greenhouse, they have the potential of feeding us much better than all
the rest. It’s not as tasty as rosemary or basil, but some day we may be
forced to be as efficient as possible, and we’ll be happy to have it.
The Science Dome is also on the cutting edge of vegetal research. Today
was the official start of the Music for Plants experiment. It posits
that in harsh environments, sound waves may influence the durability of
plants – in other words, plants may enjoy music! To test this, Valentin
puts different batches of radishes and watercress under strong UV
lights, basically giving them sunburns, and tests different sounds on
the plants in the meantime, seeing how they evolve every day. With the
thin atmosphere of Mars, plants will inevitably be put under stress from
sunrays, so finding out how best to protect them and have an agriculture
on another planet is fundamental. In that same Science Dome, a tower
breathes. No soil this time: little pods on the tower are filled with a
special foam and fed with a nutritive liquid mix, and plants grow just
as well. Aeroponics and vertical culture are possible keys to
efficiently feed a colony on Mars, and working with the first
small-scale examples of these is a privilege for us.

Crew 223 Journalist Report 05Mar2020
Author: Clément Plagne, Crew Journalist
Sol 4
Title: A matter of time
It’s sol 4 already! We’re just about a third of the way through our stay
in the station, which is honestly really hard to imagine. We’ve
experienced a lot already. The team has already changed from how it was
when we started, and we’ve grown as a unit more and more each day. Our
bodies are a bit leaner, bruised for a few of them, but feel stronger
and healthier – the all-American fast-food based diet we had before
arriving here is long gone. They’re also a whole lot dirtier. While no
one’s complained about smells, the days inside an enclosed, dusty
environment have taken a toll on us, and we’re all overdue for a shower.

Yeah, we sure have done a lot already. It’s hopeless to think we’ll
explore everywhere around us and do all the science we want, but we’ve
done a fair bit. Still, it feels like all those days have gone by like a
flash. Time goes by differently in the station. Saying “It’s sol 4!”
sounds fine to all of us, but “It’s Thursday!” just feels weird. Very
easily, you get into a rhythm. 7am wake up time, timed sports session,
breakfast, EVA Prep, check, check, check, 5 minutes of airlock
depressurisation, and on with the procedures. Everyone knows what
they’re doing every single minute of their morning. It’s doing work of
course, but also a lot of waiting for lunch. Lunch, as well as the
afternoon, is a lot freer. Where EVA mornings have us all focused on one
task, afternoons are for our own work. You get to take time to think.

When you’re in here, the rest of the world just stops to exist, and so
does everything with it. The days become simpler. No more social media,
no more advertisements on walks outside, no more commute to work.
Without distractions, you finally get to take time. Time for science,
time for ourselves and others. And, as things get the chance of going
slow and smooth, paradoxically, they go by without realising, and you
end up busy writing reports over a day you thought started instants
before. It’s a pleasure being so efficient and living so simply.

We’re only a third of the way through, but I’m already afraid it’ll be
over before I realise it. I’m enjoying every second of it while it lasts.

Crew 223 Journalist Report 04Mar2020
Author: Clément Plagne, Crew Journalist
Sol 3
Title: The Commander’s Day

Today, our commander was busy. He was not lucky enough to go on EVA today, being instead stuck inside the Hab on HabCom duty. He’s helped out everywhere, from assisting the harvest in the GreenHab to lending a hand in the RAM to troubleshoot the recent spacesuit issues. Also, he’s the one tasked with doing the dishes after dinner tonight. It’s also his birthday. For the second year in a row now, Aurélien got a year older inside the station. Being away from family, home, and, to be quite fair, the whole world on a day like this is never easy, especially with a full
day’s worth of work to do. We’re great company, there’s no doubting it, but I don’t think any one of us is pretentious enough to think that’s sufficient. Besides, for what it’s worth, he’s been telling us he’s beginning to forget what birthdays outside the MDRS are like. Still, we do our best to make this a great day for him, starting with our EVA, that went very smoothly for everyone involved. For once, no spacesuit trouble to report, besides the fact that we had to use the slightly less comfortable ones, and were glad to lay down by the end of it.

The next step to a good day, as always for us, is a lovely meal. Our birthday boy himself, 23 years young now, took part in the making of some fantastic pizzas, tested and approved by all. Marion baked an absolutely wonderful banana bread – in what was possibly the toughest moment of the mission so far, we took the decision of waiting a bit before eating the leftovers. Sometimes I feel like all I’m talking about is food. When things get unusual or tough, you get back to the fundamentals: sleeping and eating. Both are going well for all, a great sign that the rest also works.

We actually ended up having some time before getting back to work to sit down at the table and play a little game of bluff and strategy. The dynamics of the team really is beginning to show, and we had some great fun playing (no one must tell Aurélien that we let him win). For the
third day running, Marion, our Crew Scientist, has had us run an experiment on communication in foreign languages. One person has the instruction for a LEGO build, and the other must construct the object from the pieces without either one seeing the other, with limited time. All teams are making great progress, going from Frankensteinesque monstrosities to things that actually begin to resemble the actual object! To add to that, our Health and Safety Officer Blandine has also continued with team building and relaxation exercises, and it’s once again been a lovely moment together and a great time to talk about how life is going so far in the station.

We’ve got a couple other things planned for Aurélien later on tonight, but we can’t spoil the surprises, so it’ll have to stay secret!

Crew 223 Journalist Report 03Mar2020
Author: Clément Plagne, Crew Journalist
Sol 2
Title: Quick Thinking

“I’m getting no air from the suit”
…
“Marion, you’re taking command of this EVA”
…
“If this weren’t Earth I’d be dead right now”
…
“We need to head back to the Hab immediately”

It’s essential to have a plan – and we do. What’s even more important is
to know how to react when things start to go off the rails. Yesterday’s
EVA started off like the previous one: Aurélien, the veteran, leading
Florian, Marion, and Valentin, three rookies on their first time out.
And, much like yesterday, one of the suits began having issues with its
ventilation systems. Aurélien was the one affected, but unfortunately
this time the problem could be solved neither quickly nor easily by the
remaining crew. A routine battery replacement had suddenly turned into
an emergency situation, as the EVA leader’s helmet began fogging up from
the lack of extra air.

Outside, three Marstronauts with only minutes of EVA experience, needing
to take over from their only experienced companion. Inside, the HabCom
and the other two of us, listening in helplessly to the radio, waiting
for them to make their way back. After the cloud of confusion lifted
from the EVA team and they got control back over the situation, all
seven of us focused on how to make sure the EVA could carry on with
minimal losses. Time was indeed of the essence: there’s only so much
that can be spent outside. As two EVA members rushed in the airlock for
pressurisation, all hands were on deck to give Aurélien another suit and
help Valentin from losing his Comms headset. As quickly as they came in,
they were back out through the airlock, and the EVA carried on
nominally, only with little less time to be spent on exploration.

After a debriefing session to go over the morning’s events, time was
needed for a bit of well-deserved relaxation. Following a hearty lunch
of vegetable curry and improvised cake (powdered butter makes me sad),
we moved on to our respective experiments. Valentin was back to his
ever-relaxing GreenHab, and Florian was busy at the observatory, taking
advantage of the good weather for solar observations. Later on in the
afternoon, Blandine introduced us to a positive psychology experiment:
amongst a myriad of cards showing character strengths, we had to chose
two and explain to the others why we felt it described us well. It was a
great time for introspection, and for learning about our crewmates. Team
cohesion is paramount in missions like this one, and being reminded that
we all have great things to bring to the others is fantastic for the
rest of the mission.

Crew 223 Journalist Report 02Mar2020
Author: Clément Plagne, Crew Journalist
Sol 1
Title: Baby steps

After years spent on Earth, with the comfort of modern technology and the plentiful Western lifestyle, seeing ourselves so limited is as refreshing as it is a shock. We’re like born again on Mars, having to re-learn everything as we move along in our new home. And, as newborns, even our first steps weren’t so easy. Today was EVA day, and it was time for four of us to step out into the (nearly) unknown, making our way into the hills after a first run to replace the batteries of our atmospheric experiments. Between the heat outside, the weight of the life support system and the little air we got from it, it was no walk in the park. Still, with every heavy step, we discovered beautiful features of the terrain, and it was like facing a brand-new landscape every few meters. Deserts are not boring, that’s for sure.

Like the explorers of old, we were on our own, too far away to communicate with help of any kind, and having to figure things out ourselves if anything went wrong. During the EVA, Blandine’s suit had issues with its ventilation systems – while she was perfectly safe in earth’s atmosphere, this could have proven problematic or even critical in real conditions. We had to react quickly, and solved the issue even with our unwieldy gloves. It’ll be up to Luc, the Crew Engineer, to figure out what is wrong and solve the issues.

While we were out, something possibly even more important was going on: Valentin, our botanist and resident cook for the day, was starting to get busy in the kitchen. For lunch, he was preparing homemade pasta with pesto, made from basil harvested this very morning in the GreenHab. As a side, zucchini flowers dipped in batter and shallow fried. An absolute success! And, as if that wasn’t enough, bread was rising for tonight’s dinner. Food: truly the best morale booster for an all-French crew!

Scarcity breeds creativity, so here’s to many more days of delicious food and creative problem solving!

Crew 223 Journalist Report 01Mar2020
Author: Clément Plagne, Crew Journalist
Sol 0

Title: Out with the old, in with the new!

How lucky it is to wake up among friends! As we had taken our new
quarters in the Hab’s bedrooms, our fellow students from Crew 222 spent their last night in the MDRS on the Lower Deck, and it does look like a good night of sleep was had by all. It’s hard to imagine the level of excitement from both crews: one satisfied to have completed their mission, and one eager to finally start living on Mars.

Alas, while we had spent a year planning our missions with Crew 222, it was time for them to go. After a great many hugs and sweet goodbyes, they took off as the sun rose on the Martian desert. As the soft roar of the CrewCar began to quiet down in the distance, it dawned on us that we would be on our own for the two coming weeks.

Farewell, Crew 222! We wish you a safe trip back to Earth, and we promise we’ll take good care of the Station.

There was only one final step before we could finally be in isolation.
We needed to be briefed and trained by Shannon, the Station Director, on how to operate the spacesuits and the vehicles available to us for EVAs. Driving with the desert wind in our hair was a pleasant experience – sadly for us, we will all be wearing cumbersome suits from now on.

After a quick look through the GreenHab, the training was done. And, as simple as that, we were ready to go.

We spent our last moments of freedom on a quick run near the Hab,
enjoying for the last time the touch of the sun and the bite of the
freshening air on our bare skin. Finally, with the metallic clang of the
heavy airlock door, the simulation began. There was little time for us
to ponder over our newfound confinement, as it also meant there was much work to be done.

Valentin was busy at the GreenHab, making his first harvests for tonight’s meal; Luc, our Crew Engineer, had to make his first EVA check on the Station’s support systems. Meanwhile, in the Hab, the sounds of EVA comms clash with the clacks of our many keyboards, working in unison to type up the many reports needed by the
Mission Support.

Soon enough all of today’s work will be done, and we will have dinner
and some rest as a crew in the solitude of the Martian desert. A
comforting thought crosses my mind: on Mars, the sun sets just the same as it does on Earth.