A Window over the Sea
I’m lucky. Of all the places in this floating laboratory called Odón de Buen, I’ve been given the best one: a little corner with a window from which I can admire the sea in all its infinite variations, its sunsets and its storms.
But I study the invisible, and to observe it I’ve had to open other windows in my little corner, less poetic, but much more useful and, above all, more informative. In fact, the view offered by one of them is so vast that, rather than a window, it’s more like a “360-degree technological terrace overlooking the sea”. This marvel is called a continuous-flow cytometer, a machine that samples the sea every 15 minutes directly from a tap that gives me access to surface seawater. Thanks to it, I can see in real time the abundance of bacteria and small photosynthetic organisms. These values rose as soon as we left Reykjavík, before beginning to decline as the ship moved toward Greenland, eventually stabilizing at just over 400,000 bacteria per millilitre.
As of today, I can say that along the route I have already collected more than 1,200 samples, giving me a very detailed picture of the microbial community. And the story will continue on land. From these data, I’ll be able to determine the size of the microbes and calculate their biomass. I’ll also be able to see how this biomass varies with temperature, salinity, and solar radiation, helping me understand how the environment affects these invisible but incredibly important organisms that are essential to the health of the ecosystem.
Next to my beloved machine, which, being automatic, is a wonderful companion to my deeply rooted laziness, I have my DNA filtration pump, the evil queen of my nightmares. Every day, I filter around 50 litres of water collected from different depths of the water column. Here, the larger organisms that aren’t detected by my cytometer, where I only look at a few microlitres, get their revenge. They accumulate over the thousands of millilitres being filtered, saturating my filters until they turn yellow-brown and forcing me to keep a constant eye on what’s happening. In fact, I confess that I’m writing this post purely as an act of procrastination, because I was supposed to change the filters right now.
The last space in my little corner is dedicated to dividing the bacterial productivity samples into aliquots. These are then processed in another small, sea-view laboratory that they’ve given me (I know, I sound like the son of a real-estate developer, grabbing all the best apartments). These samples complete the picture of biomass and diversity by providing information on how active the bacteria are over time. I’m very curious to find out whether, in these cold waters, the bacteria lie drowsily wrapped in their blankets, or whether they are working efficiently, well adapted to this climate.
…And I, too, would happily stay wrapped in a blanket, or in the dining room with my dear companions, the cook today made us an exquisite hot chocolate that deserves to be savoured together. But the filtration queen is calling, and it’s time to put on my gloves, occasionally casting an eye toward the sea, beyond my windows.
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