Category: Journalist Report

Journalist Report

Robinson Raphael, Crew 219 Astronomer,

Sol 2,

The Two Tales of the EVA

We are slowly adapting to our new life on Mars! The morning was filled with quiet as we were all tired from the past few days of repairs and moving in but slowly, we gained our strength after some coffee and a pleasant breakfast. A big chunk of the day consisted of two EVA’s. Meanwhile, the rest of the day afterward consisted of catching up on work around the Hab and personal time.

The first EVA started at 8am and it consisted of our CO, HSO, LSO, and GHO. The final destination was North Ridge and if time permitted, they had plans to climb it. Given the weather conditions, the crew proceeded with their journey and all things seemed well, right? Nope. A couple of the crewmembers had to deal with a lot fog in the helmets because of the cold! In the end, the crew did reach North Ridge but did not climb because of the fogging and snow cover. Despite all of it, the first EVA crew was rewarded with hot chocolate when they came back!

The second EVA started at 1pm and it consisted of myself, the XO, the engineer, and our geologist. The final destination was Kissing Camel Ridge E and plans were also made to climb to collect samples at different stratifications, if time permitted. This time around, the fogging issue had been solved and the weather was much better. Prior to heading to Kissing Camels, we set up the optical mount setup that I brought with me to MDRS. It was placed between the Musk Observatory and Robotic Observatory and it is marked with a flag that the Geologist and I made. Speaking of our Geologist, he was able to take some sweet photos of the optics mount. You can also see the mount from the MDRS habitat! A beautiful sight to see when people wake up if I do say so myself! After the mount was setup, we proceeded to drive the rovers to Kissing Camels.

Near Kissing Camel, we were able to collect some cool samples, each with their own interesting features. After collecting the samples, we saw that Kissing Camel had lots of area untouched by snow, so we proceeded to climb up the side of the ridge to collect additional samples. The climb went a bit slower than anticipated since it was my first time doing an EVA of this magnitude, but overall, we did what we came to do. In the end, the second EVA crew was also rewarded with hot chocolate, coffee, and an excellent lunch of tuna salad and pasta prepared by our LSO!

Journalist Report

Hannah Blackburn, Crew 219 Lead Science Officer

Sol 1

Return to the Red Planet

The Martian landscape is cold, dusty, and rusty red. My new home is the polar opposite of the tropical and lushly vegetated campus of Florida Tech, and yet I feel just as at home. Waking up in my cozy bunk felt like I never left Mars at all. I almost expected to sit down for breakfast with the other members of Crew 205, but it has been a year since we were the only known inhabitants of the red planet. Now, my crew is number 219, and we have our own adventure to begin.

I am the Lead Science Officer of Crew 219, so my main responsibility is to help my crewmates with their research. Today we went on two EVAs to collect regolith samples for our biological remediation experiment. All eight of us now have boot prints on the surface of Mars, at least until the next dust storm wipes them away. So far the weather has been acceptable for EVAs, but the sky has not been clear enough to take astronomy data. We are all looking forward to seeing the stars above the Martian mountains.

As I am writing this, I am enjoying the sights and smells of the GreenHab. We picked some sage for dinner, and the scent alone is making me hungry. I can’t wait to share a pot of soup with my crew and relax together after our day of hard work. Maybe we’ll watch a movie to celebrate our first sol on the red planet. It’s a little on the nose, but I’m thinking The Martian.

Journalist Report

Robinson Raphael, Crew 219 Astronomer,

Sol 0,

The Beginning of New Potentials

Crew 219 has officially arrived on Mars! Upon arriving, we
familiarized ourselves with Crew 218 and overall had a joyous and
welcoming experience. Alongside me, the crew geologist, commander,
HSO, LSO all slept in the science dome. It was quite frightful to wake
up this morning as I was the only person in the science dome. At
first, I was so confused questioning. Did my crew leave me? Did I
oversleep?? Was I still in a dream??? After giving myself some time, I
arrived back at the Hab to see a long line to use the bathroom. Some
things never change….. I slowly found out that each crew member woke
up at different times and just left. Keith, our HSO, journeyed to the
GreenHab at 2am only to find out the heater stopped. Oh boy that story
made all of us laugh and was a wonderful way to the start the day. As
the morning progressed, we all said our goodbyes to Crew 218 and
wished them a safe journey back to Earth.

As each member of Crew 218 left, we were filled with sadness as their
company was well appreciated. At the same time, we were also filled
with motivation, as we reminisced on the research projects they were
working on. A little bit after, we all took a written quiz which both
filled our guts with anticipation and a bit of nervousness. One by one
we all handed our quizzes back to be graded and slowly waited for
results. After each quiz was graded, we let out a burst of excitement
to find out that the crew passed and was able to carry on with their
day.

The day was quite adventurous as it consisted of training with the
rovers and learning how to put on the flight suits. For the rover
training, I was paired with Alejandro and we drove all to the starting
point of Galileo Road. Man, oh man it was so cold; my face felt like a
brick. Definitely going to bring more layers next time! The scenery of
Mars was gorgeous and breathtaking that I couldn’t just help but stare
all around me. As Alejandro was driving for the first half of the
journey, we kept singing to help the time go by and it was a wonderful
moment. When it came to the flight suits, we all took pictures posing
for the camera and admiring the feel and look.

As the day began to grow darker, the whole Crew 219 spent a majority
of time doing their own thing and helping out with daily tasks such as
washing dishes, cleaning the rooms, cooking, etc. I can’t wait to wake
up to our first Sol on Mars tomorrow morning!

Journalist Report

Ben Durkee, Crew 218 Journalist

Sol 13

This morning started off soothing and somber. We crawled out of our sleeping bags to the gentle ukelele of “Somewhere Over the Rainbow.” Depleting our remaining hot chocolate supply, we watched the sun scale the hill east of the Hab. Without sharing any words, we lamented this being our last Martian sunrise together. Once we had fully woken up and sufficiently mellowed out, there was an immediate paradigm shift and we launched straight into our jam-packed itinerary.

First on the docket: Hab cleaning. Since we had done most of the cleaning yesterday, we knew exactly what still needed to be done and we each splintered off to tackle a different task. I took mop duty. Our pipes still hadn’t thawed, so mopping became a struggle between refreshing the water as little as possible without slathering the floor with a muddy sludge. I spent a period in a seemingly unending sine wave between cleaning a region and then painting it brown, back and forth ad infinitum. Eventually, we sent Jonathan outside with pots of hot water to pour on the pipes in an attempt to thaw them. In light of this effort and the many gallons of water we had remaining from the mission, we considered water conservation a bit less of a concern. As a result, we got our Martian housekeeping done just in time for our guests to arrive.

Our metaphorical doorbell (the Habitat radio) rang and we invited Crew 219 through the airlock. They are a squad assembled of Florida Tech students and alumni, 8 people strong. Considering there are only 6 state rooms and 1 loft, it’s going to be a bit of a cozy Hab. I get the impression they’ll handle it well, though. They seem like a very tight-knit group and more than ready to face this mission together. I have only good things to say about these guys and training them today has been an absolute pleasure.

It’s weird to be the jaded survivors tasked with passing down knowledge to our starry-eyed successors. I’m almost jealous they now get to live this incredible experience that we’ve just concluded. It’s like when you finish a great book or television show and wish you could just erase your memory of it and live it again. But we’ve had our fun and the time has come to pass the torch and hand these folks the keys to a shiny new Mars Habitat.

Tonight is going to be a bittersweet night, full of reminiscing about our time on the red planet and breaking bread with our new Floridian friends. All in all, this has been an unbelievably enriching experience.

Were we packed into tiny, overheated sleeping quarters like a can of sardines in an oven? Yes. Did I have to painstakingly scrape beans from all the dishes with my fingernails and a bean juice-soaked sponge? I’ll never be able to forget. Was I forced to put up with these 5 lovable scamps for two whole weeks? Yep. Would I do it again?

In a heartbeat.

 Journalist Report
Ben Durkee, Crew 218 Journalist

Sol 11

We're gonna be famous!

We had an extra sugary breakfast of cereal and cookies this morning while we waited for the film crew's spacecraft to arrive. The overload of carbohydrates in our bodies may have made us a little antsy as we marked time in the Hab. Our food supplies are beginning to run on empty, but we still have a surplus of flour and sugar, so Pat and I woke up at 6 AM Mars time to make our confectioneries. Hey, calories are calories. I'll get diabetes on Mars before I starve on Mars.

Our Earthling guests were a tad late - the entry, descent, and landing phase was a little rockier than they expected, I reckon. We in the Hab were worried about our potential acting careers falling through, but it was actually a blessing in disguise as it afforded us more time to prepare for our first EVA of the day. We got everything in order for Pat, Shefali, and Jonathan's excursion, and then our otherworldly visitors knocked at the airlock.

We discussed their desires and our own related to the filming, the most important thing being that the mission is priority one, cinematics are in the passenger seat. We hammered out both party's expectations for the day, and then the crew accompanied our three EVA musketeers to their nearby destination. Their EVA site was just within visual range of the Hab, and it was very entertaining to watch our astronauts walk up and down the same hill for the cameras. They got some footage of Jonathan's meteorological surveys and Pat's seismic tests, and then promptly returned to the Hab.

Since they consumed very little rover charge on their excursion, there was a quick turnaround between EVAs. Those three tagged in the other half of the crew - namely Cesare, LuzMa, and yours truly - and we set off to our new, considerably farther, goal. We had a good spot in mind that was both useful for data collection and photogenic for the cameras. It was the perfect spot, the only issue was the terrain being too harsh for the camera crew's Chevy Spaceship. They had to disembark their craft nearby and walk to the site.

Once we all convened at the picturesque bluff northeast of the Hab, we began analyzing and they began filming. I got some solid radiological data and some fun pictures of the filming crew in action. They were very appreciative of the photos, as they hardly get any shots of themselves behind the scenes. Photographers/videographers are this world's unsung heroes, that's for sure. By far the best thing to come of this EVA, though, is the drone footage of me wiping out in mud while carefully descending the hill. Don't tell the crew (because I am a broke college student), but I would pay good money for that video.

We returned to our rovers and they to their spacecraft. I was very impressed with how they were able to hold their breaths for the entire EVA. We complimented their lung capacity and proceeded back to the Hab for an end-of-day recap and very late lunch. Stories were shared between crews and before we knew it, the time had come for their orbital window back to Earth. We saw them off and lamented how we will be departing the same way soon.

I've started to get sentimental about this place. We've only been here sub-two weeks, but Mars has a way of sucking you in and making you wanna stay. And I'm not just talking about gravity. This mission seems like it has gone by quicker than it took for our dried mango supply to perish. That is to say: very fast.

I have a powerful cognitive weapon at my disposal, though. Any time I start reminiscing about the elements that make this place so grand, I just have to think about the beans. Oh, the notorious beans. We had beans and jambalaya for dinner last night and it was a delicious meal - we also cooked a large surplus of beans for future meals between now and our departure. All in all, a great time. The problems arose when I realized I was on dish duty that night. I looked at the culinary carnage around the table and my stomach dropped - both from the beans eaten and the beans uneaten.

See, beans have an uncanny ability to adhere to dishes. Not only that, but they spread to any dish they even remotely come in contact with. If you take some bean water (yum) and transfer it to other dishes, no matter how heavily you dilute it, the water will somehow always potently remember its bean history. It's like it has Post Traumatic Bean Disorder. It's a nightmare for dishwashing, especially when you are trying to conserve water to the best of your ability. Soon enough our whole kitchen reeked of bean. It propogates like the Bubeanic Plague. I spent multiple hours cleaning those dishes, and still had to call in backup to cleanse them of their blight. It was unbeanlievable. Not to mention our fridge full of leftover beans. Opening that thing is opening Beandora's Box. Don't do it.

I realize I have spent upwards of two paragraphs discussing beans and bean related anguish, but this is the only outlet myself and the rest of the crew have for our deep-seeded pain.

Tomorrow, we have one more EVA before beginning to wrap up.

Tonight, I count beans instead of sheep.

But, you know, other than that our time here has bean phenomenal.

Journalist Report
Ben Durkee, Crew 218 Journalist

Sol 10

The Roaring Twenties: Episode Two

Happy New Year, all! It will be very interesting to see what Earth is like in the new decade when we head back a few days from now. Are there flying cars? Jetpacks? Can we speak Dolphin yet? The
possibilities are endless!

Meanwhile, we are having a blast one planet farther from the sun! We hosted the two MDRS assistant directors and together indulged in a wonderful meal courtesy of Chef Cesare. Streamers were popped, games were played, raucous laughter was shared, but most importantly we partook in some juicy controversy.

Favorite movies were discussed (good and bad), alongside whether or not water is wet, which way the toilet paper roll should hang, how the “g” in “gif” is pronounced, and many more that got progressively stranger as midnight approached. As far as I’m concerned, nothing brings people together quite like witty banter and inconsequential conflict. We entered the new year with stronger friendships, streamer debris all over the Hab, mild headaches from the paper trumpets, and smiles on our faces.

The only downside of New Year’s Night is waking up at the regular time the next morning. Our wake-up train chugged a little slower today as Sol 10 came to fruition. Double digits! Two calendar-based milestones today; the stars truly aligned. We made up for our lack of energy with a breakfast of biscuits and gravy, the recipe for which was sent from Earth by a friendly Mars veteran.

After devouring the edible southern hospitality, our hive was back to full operational capacity and buzzing to prepare Pat and Cesare for our 8th EVA of the mission. They finagled their EVA suits into our loyal rovers and took them beyond range of the Hab’s communication capability. The sun crawled across the cloudy Martian sky and soon enough they were back with plentiful geological data and samples. We were gracious enough to let them and their new pet rocks back in the airlock, which proved to be a mistake as the coveted Nutella supply seemed to drastically deplete with their re-entry.

To recharge the rovers and ourselves, we all ate lunch and recapped the EVA. After a short break, it was time for the second EVA of the day, featuring LuzMa, Shefali, and yours truly. We strictly adhered to Shefali’s new EVA checklist (likely inspired by the infamous shoe incident) and were outside in record time. We saddled up our rovers only to find that they were still tired from lugging the other guys and their equipment.

Unfortunately the recent sustained Martian cold has been hugely detrimental to the rover batteries. They now discharge rapidly and inconsistently, and recharge at a snail’s pace. Too bad it couldn’t have been vice versa – I guess that old adage about batteries lasting longer after refrigeration might not be valid on Mars. Myth busted. We rolled with the punches and turned our roving EVA into a walking EVA around the Hab. We gathered what data we could (redundant data is far better than no data!) and enjoyed the snowy walk back home together. Although it was a bit disappointing, Mars is a fickle creature and we must do the best we can in spite of variables beyond our control.

Speaking of which, the consistent negative temperatures are still preventing our pipes from thawing. We now consider our water assembly line a charming team-building exercise, so we put on some tunes and got to bucketing. Faster than ever, we had the loft tank back to full. Plenty of water for drinking, dinner, dishes, and desperately – showers. We may or may not have a filming crew flying in from Earth tomorrow, and we gotta look (and smell) good for the cameras!

As crew journalist, these guys are kinda threatening my job security. But on the other hand, this could be my big break!

Journalist Report
Ben Durkee, Crew 218 Journalist

Sol 09

Today began like any other day on Mars: awoken dim and early by the blasting of a select song from the Futurama soundtrack. We stirred ourselves some hot chocolate – the only dehydrated food we seem to have an abundance of – and gathered around the window to watch the sunrise. Once the sun peeked out from its azimuthal hiding spot, it seemed we were already in a rush to eat breakfast and prepare for our first EVA of the day.

With this being our 6th EVA, we were already pros at the process. Myself, Shefali, and Cesare were suited up, depressurized, and revving up the rovers in 15 minutes flat. Our goal for this EVA was to head south of the Hab. Not for warmer pastures, but for a signal analysis experiment. My research involves measuring ambient radio signals around the Hab, so we were testing whether or not the ridge between the Hab and our destination would have a dampening effect on such signals.

The ridge in question is called Kissing Camel Ridge, supposedly named because the rock formations look like two titular camels face to face. However, I adamantly believe that anyone who claims to see two camels there is either a fraud or suffering from terminal "Emperor’s New Clothes" Syndrome.

We accomplished our own personal research goals in the area and spent our remaining time capturing pictures of the grandiose landscape. Admittedly also a few (hundred) pictures of each other in fabulous poses. We loaded back up the rovers with our cumbersome equipment and slogged back to base. The roads today are swampy concoctions of mud and slushy ice under the facade of neatly laid snow. We returned home cold, muddy, and accomplished.

As soon as we escaped our life-saving mobile prisons (that we are very grateful for), we tagged in the next EVA crew. Pat, seismologist extraordinaire, and LuzMa, dehydrated mango connoisseur performed an engineering maintenance EVA while they waited for the rovers to recharge. Once T and Custy had drunk their fill of our precious electricity, they valiantly carried the two Marstronauts to their goal. That goal being: south. Just slightly farther south than we had ventured. Always one-upping us, those two.

After performing a long series of geophonic tests that we Hab-dwellers could intermittently hear over the radios, they too braved the earthy sludge on their homeward bound. They got back to breathable air just in time to join the sequel to yesterday’s fire brigade! We had waited a majority of the day to ferry water in the hopes that the pipes would thaw, but no dice. On the bright side, since we had used some of yesterday’s water to wash the dishes, we had a multitude of clean pots and other water receptacles for our thirst-fueled operation.

1000 rotations of dumping pots and slamming my head into the low ceiling later, our water was at a more than acceptable level. We filled it up a bit extra so that people had the opportunity to shower before our New Year’s festivities if desired. A few people seized the hygienic opportunity, and then we spontaneously dove into a viewing of Shrek. As a neutral journalistic observer, I must report that tensions are beginning to rise. There may be a formation of factions between those who want to watch Mulan next and those who would prefer Hot Fuzz. The first Martian Civil War breweth.

The other thing beginning to rise is our rosemary bread for the great New Year’s feast! Very soon we will put aside our differences and eat the vast majority of our remaining food supply. It’s strange to celebrate the anniversary of the Earth’s revolution around the sun from its planetary next-door neighbor. There’s no way I’d rather spend it than breaking Hab-made bread with my fellow crewmates.

What a fantastic way to usher in the new decade. Happy New Year, everyone!

Journalist Report
Ben Durkee, Crew 218 Journalist

Sol 08

The snowy hill east of the Habitat delayed the sunrise just long enough for us to awaken to a sky of vibrant pink and orange. Nothing clears the morning haze from your eyes quite like gawking at the natural beauty of a Martian sunrise. We were fortunate to have such a gentle wake-up call, because the rest of the day was on a tight itinerary.

After an efficient breakfast of astronaut nutrition paste (dehydrated fruit smoothie) we promptly began preparing Shefali and LuzMa for their morning EVA. After an egress that went infinitely smoother than yesterday’s, they set off into the icy brink. The two ladies had the honor of taking our rovers "T" and "Custy" (formerly "Spirit" and "Curiosity," but some of the letters rubbed off) on their first voyage in a week.

The rovers persevered through the quagmire of snow, ice, and mud to deliver the duo to their destination unscathed. The two performed some meteorological surveys that are far beyond my pay-grade and returned to the Hab far ahead of schedule. In an effort to kill two birds with one Martian stone, LuzMa also performed her extravehicular engineer duties before they both entered the airlock for re-compression. Everything went off without a hitch, and they were inside and free of their cumbersome oxygen-backpacks with time to spare.

More time to dedicate to the most important task of the day. See, the past few sols have been consistently below freezing, and our water pipe has been an ice pipe for long enough that we are in full survival mode. The first thing to go when the water gets tight is dish duty, and by today we had a tower rivaling the wonders of the world constructed solely of dirty dishes. Our water reserve was so sparse this afternoon that we had to resort to creating a fire brigade. We spent the period between EVAs today assembly-lining water from the static tank all the way up to the accessible loft tank with our few clean kitchen pots. Our efficiency would have made Henry Ford proud – probably because we had pretty compelling motivation.

Once our liquid life reached an acceptable quantity, there was just enough time for a quick lunch before Cesare, Pat, and I had to prepare for our EVA. We raced to see who could be properly suited up first, and as expected our commander with multiple notches in his Mars belt pulled a clean victory. This time I abundantly confirmed that I was wearing the right footwear. I’m sure I’ll make many more mistakes this mission, but I will definitely not be making that one again.

While we were acting as a human aqueduct, our rovers were replenishing their batteries back to full. For good reason – we intended to use it all. We depressurized and embarked on our longest EVA yet. Our destination: as far north as we could go.

There is a clear division drawn in mud on my flight suit. A contrast between my left side: cozy within the roll cage of trusty ol’ "Custy," and my right side: exposed to the elements as I held out the antenna for some data collection on our northward exodus. We adventured far into the Martian horizon on a journey that felt like an eternity for the muscles in my right arm. We exited the zone of radio contact with the Hab, and then we pushed on even farther. Eventually Cesare’s rover read 60% battery remaining, our threshold for having to cease our migration. We pulled over right there, and the spot proved to be ideal.

It had a flat region – perfect for Pat’s seismic equipment – and a phenomenal view of the nearby mountain – a playground for me and my camera. We spent equal time setting up the equipment as we did gathering data. With our remaining time, we explored the surrounding terrain and then gave our rovers a good 20-point turn to head back home.

Naturally the journey somehow managed to be uphill both ways, but the rovers took it like champs and we were back in no time. By the time we got ourselves and our equipment back in the airlock, it was 4:00 PM sharp. A perfect three hour EVA. We raced out of our suits again, but this time it was fueled by the necessity to empty our bladders. We all parsed our data from the field and then put on some SpongeBob to turn our brains off and recover from the day. Much needed.

Through the yellow rectangle man’s uncanny ability to evaporate time, it was suddenly time for dinner and reports. As Pat slaves away in the kitchen, I’m hunched over my keyboard relaying the day’s events to the best of my ability. It took a week, but I think we’re getting the hang of this whole "Martian Living" thing. Now we wrap up today so we can do it again tomorrow, but even better.

Another sol, another dollar.

Journalist Report
Ben Durkee, Crew 218 Journalist

Sol 07

"Hydrate or die-drate!"

This was our mantra of the day as we prepared for our first EVA in a week. There’s a knife’s edge to tiptoe between under-insulating and over-bundling before heading out onto the snowy Martian terrain. The consequences of playing your cards wrong are either suffering icy numbness or heat exhaustion. Regardless of your position on the thermal spectrum, lugging around the EMU (Extravehicular Mobility Unit [my favorite acronym]) is some serious cardio. The only thing you’ll be burning more than calories is precious H2O, and you can’t drink while in EMU mode, so drink up beforehand and maybe store some in your cheeks too. But don’t forget that our EMUs don’t have lavatory functionality yet, so don’t drink too much. Basically, if your EVA is longer than two hours, godspeed.

Knowing that we were rusty with EVA procedures, we began preparing for our expedition over an hour prior. I reassembled the antenna I built for my research project and gave it one last test before its maiden voyage. Antenna is a strong word – it’s more like a haphazard amalgamation of PVC, copper wire, and coax cable. In the hopes that the electrical tape would hold together, we began suiting up. Pat, Jonathan, and Shefali helped LuzMa, Cesare, and I wriggle into our suits. We meticulously checked and double-checked every aspect of our expeditionary ensembles. Hats, gloves, bandannas, radios, microphones, EMUs on, straps tightened, helmets secured – ready to rock and roll.

Cue the fog machine and dramatic music; we stepped into the airlock. Pause the music, please allow five minutes for full depressurization. The time drags on as the 3 of us are sardine’d in the airlock cylinder with my PVC Frankenstein’s monster. Four minutes remaining. Three. As the air gets thinner our suits get tighter, something seems amiss. Why do my feet feel so… comfortable? The tape securing my microphone to my face contorts as my smile vanishes. I pretzel my spine to get downward view with the helmet on and sure enough: I’m still wearing my slippers. All of that time preparing for our first EVA in a while, and I overlooked my footwear of all things. Here we are about to embark on a monumental exploratory enterprise and I’m equipped like a middle-aged man stepping out to fetch this morning’s copy of The Martian Times.

I immediately alerted the crew and we began repressurizing the chamber. The next few minutes were slated to be agony as I had to stand there and receive infinite (deserved) ridicule over the radio. However, as if it were destiny, LuzMa’s hat jumped off of her head within the EMU helmet. She squirmed her head around the expensive fishbowl trying to reclaim her beanie, but to no avail. I’m glad the radio microphones are muted by default, because I was cackling uncontrollably in my helmet. I now stand by the claim that my shoe mishap was a noble sacrifice of dignity to rescue LuzMa from her impending headwear disaster. I’m never gonna live that down.

We re-assimilated with the Habitat air and fixed all of our wardrobe malfunctions. That was the practice round; now for the real deal. We must have shaken off all the rust on the first attempt, because our second attempt went flawlessly! We ventured out into the frozen wastes and returned to Marble Ritual, the same destination as our training EVA so many moons ago. But this time we were heading there to gather data for the first time. There was something sentimental about returning to that site one week later as full-fledged Martian survivors and scientists. We gathered geological, meteorological, and radio frequency data for our respective personal projects and returned to the Hab safe and sound (and sweaty).

We slithered out of our EMU suits accomplished and exasperated, wrapping up our EVA. With that excitement at its end, we immersed ourselves in data parsing and the energy of the day quickly waned. Before we knew it, the sun and moon had traded places and it was time for reports and dinner. I write this now through watery eyes from accidentally inhaling cayenne pepper powder. I think it’s time for me to concede that today is not my day and retire for the night. It’s bright and early tomorrow for some more potential EVAs. We’ve got a week left to make up for lost science time, let’s make the best of it!

Journalist Report
Ben Durkee, Crew 218 Journalist

Sol 06

I swear these morning workouts get more and more intense every day. Sitting up has now become an ordeal, and don’t even get me started on descending our glorified ladder of a staircase. I feel like a 21-year-old going on octogenarian – perhaps we age faster on Mars? I may have to request some dentures in the next cargo resupply craft sent from Earth…

In spite of our body aches, we spent a good chunk of time today sweeping the snow from our inter-Habitat tunnels again. We still haven’t been able to locate that pesky leak that’s allowing the precipitation in. I suspect it is the Martian mouse from Sol 04 trying to take us out one by one. We haven’t been able to track him down, yet, but have affectionately named him Marvin.

It’s very interesting the way the mind wanders when given the time and space to do so.

“When Dwayne ‘The Rock’ Johnson studies his family history, is it considered genealogy or geology?”

This is the question Pat (the crew geologist) and I pondered over lunch. After involving the rest of the crew in our whirlwind debate, the general consensus became the latter, but we welcome outside opinions on the matter.

After discussing our philosophical quandary, the curtain of clouds parted for the first time in days to reveal unfettered, unfiltered sunlight. Not only does this imply the most snow melting power we’ve had yet, but it also means the sun was finally ripe for observation. Cesare rushed out to the observatory to carpe this rare diem.

Once he had methodically set up all of the instrumentation, he invited us in individually to join in his observation. Eventually my turn rolled around, and I removed my glasses and peered into the gauntlet of mirrors and lenses. We fiddled with the knobs until I got a view of the sun. Circular, as expected. A bit more adjustment yielded better focus, and I was able to watch the surface of the sun subtly pulsate and squirm, like a colossal heart of nuclear fusion.

Cesare spent some time adjusting machinery and software far beyond in an attempt to capture some solar activity. We weren’t able to observe any sun spots or granulation, but in hindsight that may be a blessing considering Mars’s lack of shielding against such radioactive tumult.

The sun soon escaped our grasp and retreated behind the horizon, so we too retreated to the Hab. A dash of Smash Bros. to wind down, a pinch of pepper on our dinner, and the evening had escaped us in a similar fashion. We’ve a cold night ahead of us, but hopefully the sun will return unobstructed to thaw our Martian landscape. If the stars align, we may even be able to go on EVA tomorrow and launch our scientific discoveries into full swing. Fingers crossed!