Karen's Daily Blog

The Extreme Pumpkin Drop

What is the pumpkin going to do when
we drop it to the bottom of the deep ocean?

There are several camps aboard. That scientists and crew all fall into different camps suggests that a true science experiment is going on, one in which people use what they already know to predict the outcome of a situation that has not yet been experienced.

First there is the Implosion Camp. Dr. Shawn Polson asserts, “It’s going to just fall in on itself.”

Lisa Zeigler declares, “It’s going to implode. It’s just going to turn into a little pumpkin basket, because the top’s going to cave in.”

In the implosion camp is Ordinary Seaman Ron Whims. “It’s going to be on the outside of the sub and it’s going down to a ridiculously high pressure,” he says.

“But the pressure will be the same inside and outside the pumpkin,” suggests Ordinary Seaman Kevin Threadgold. “It might come alive and be a talking pumpkin head when it comes up, and we could sell it on ebay: ‘Don’t crush me, please! Don’t send me down in the sub, please!’”

And Dave Walter does another pumpkin voice saying, “It’s cold down here!”

Kevin says, “I think there should be a group against this. People for the Ethical Treatment of Pumpkins.” 

“Are you going to puncture it? If you don’t puncture it, it could be catastrophic,” says Daniel Gomez-Ibanez. In this sense, catastrophic means a fast change. He goes on, “It will squish. Because the skin has a lot of air in it, it’s going to get thinner and it will crush or break. But I can’t say for sure. I’m not that familiar with crushing pumpkins.” 

Bruce Strickrott has given the matter of the sinking pumpkin a great deal of thought. “It’s going to fail. It’ll just fold over and crack. It won’t take much either. Maybe if you tape it up with duct tape and reinforce it. . .” 

“But that’s not fair!” I say.

“Fair? It’s a pumpkin. Poor little pumpkin,” says Bruce, and sniffs. 

“It’s going to implode. The question is at exactly what depth?” asks Able-Bodied Seaman Jim McGill

In the Nothing’s Going to Happen Camp is Dave Walter, who says glumly, “It’s going to get all wet. Water’s going to seep into it. It’s porous.”

The egg being fine doesn’t change his view. What egg? In 2004, two eggs were carried to the bottom of the sea at 9º North: a control egg that did not get placed in the vent, and the Eggsperimental Extreme Egg , which was boiled in the vent flow. Both eggs made it back to the surface with their shells intact, although the inside of the boiled one was blackened, smelly, and thoroughly cooked. The explanation in this case was that, although the pressure at depth was strong, it was equal on all sides of the egg. 

But maybe an egg is built to take that kind of pressure. It’s easy enough to break an egg if you push on one part of it harder than the rest. A pumpkin is constructed differently, and our particular pumpkin has a stubby, broken-off stem and a slightly soft spot in the side. Will these prove to be weak points that will be more vulnerable to pressure?

This brings us to the Turning to Mush Camp. “Mush!” promises Dr. Dave Caron. “It’s got air inside it so it’s going to compress, and the cells have air inside them and that’s going to compress. The stem is going to shrink like a styrofoam cup.”

Also in the Mush Camp are Dr. Karla Heidelberg and Diane Kim. “We’re talking about one atmosphere of pressure change every 10 meters,” says Diane. “The pumpkin will get smashed up because of the pressure. I don’t know if the pieces will fall through what you’re carrying it in. There might be nothing left in there at the end but the stem.”

Allison Heater (the owner of the pumpkin) adds, “I think the stem will harden, like wood.”

Then there is the discussion of how to attach the pumpkin to Alvin’s basket. Bruce suggests setting it inside a big plastic butter tub from the galley.

“It’s going to float,” I say. My daughter used to row crew on the Connecticut River and had to dodge pumpkins from all the farms along the river. You’ll observe that I’m not in any camp. I’m so confused by everything I’m hearing that I don’t take a stand. (For more on my interest in buoyancy, revisit my November 12 blog.)

Bruce says, “Wait a minute. Pumpkins float? You just introduced a whole new issue.”

In the morning of Thanksgiving Day, Craig Cary and Dave Walter set the pumpkin up between two little squares of mesh and a piece of foam, and strapped it onto the top of the biobox with plastic ties. Does this mean they expect the pumpkin to be wrecked by the time they reach the seafloor? (They’re going to need to open the biobox, after all.) “No,” Craig says. “It will just add a little weight to the biobox lid. Mark [Pilot Mark Spear] can open it with it on there if he needs to.”

Pete Countway envisions something different: an attack of the vent crabs. “I think it will cause a feeding frenzy on the bottom. Crabs will be all over it.”

Well, maybe it’s appropriate that vent crabs would eat a traditional Thanksgiving food on Thanksgiving. 

The sub goes down, carrying pilot Mark Spear and observers Amy Koid of USC and Lee Stanish of the University of Colorado at Boulder. When it comes back up, it looks almost exactly the same. It is slightly smaller and firmer, and there are two holes, one at the top, and one at the bottom. Some of the scientists immediately guess that those holes -- clearly made when Alvin’s manipulator claw picked up the pumpkin -- relieved the effects of the pressure so the pumpkin didn’t implode.

It isn’t until after our splendid Thanksgiving dinner and our pumpkin pie that I got a chance to ask Mark when he picked up the pumpkin. “Not until we were almost back at the surface,” he says. “It had fallen down into the basket, and I wanted to bring it back up on top.”

There you have it. Only Pete doesn’t have it: pumpkin pie, that is. He got to the dinner line too late, and missed out. “I hear there was one missing pumpkin,” says Pete, to explain why the pie ran out. But he’s no closer to explaining the phenomenon of the Extreme Pumpkin Drop than anyone else on board. “It just goes to show you,” he says, “we don’t really know much about the deep ocean.”

We all miss the folks at home, and we all wish Oiler Alex Taylor a happy birthday.

To everyone, have an extremely Happy Thanksgiving! 

In lieu of an Extreme Blog today, I’m including this work of art from cook Mark Nossiter.  If you’re still hungry tomorrow, give it a try. 

Banana Bread, as served on R/V Atlantis, with bananas from Manzanillo, Mexico

1 cup sugar
1 cup margarine or butter, softened
1 cup mashed ripe bananas (3 to 4 medium)
1 cup buttermilk
1 teaspoon vanilla
2 cups all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon salt
1 cup chopped nuts, if desired

Heat the oven to 350º. Grease the bottom of a loaf pan, 9 x 5 x 3 inches.

Mix the sugar and margarine in a large bowl.

Add the bananas, buttermilk, and vanilla. Beat until smooth.

Stir in the remaining ingredients except the nuts, until just moistened.

Stir in the nuts.

Pour into the pan.

Bake 1 ¼ hours or until a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean.

Cool 5 minutes. Loosen the sides of the loaf from pan and remove from pan.

Cool completely before slicing. 

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