November 19, 1999

In the wee hours of Friday morning, I could here Steve make a dash for the bathroom. Whether it was the eel or the raw egg in the pisca sour, we don't know, but definitely some sort of food poisoning. On top of being up for many hours of travel, he had not slept very well at all and was looking a little green around the gills.

The Laurence M. Gould.

We were scheduled to get our Extreme Cold Weather (ECW) clothing at the Agunsa warehouse on the docks at 10:30. I left early to apprise the cruise MPC, Phil Sacks, that Steve would probably not be in until later in the day. Clothing issue doesn't take too long, but it is imperative that everything fits well, that zippers work, and that nothing is torn or frayed. Once "on the ice," that is it: very little extra clothing is kept on station at Palmer.

The Gould was scheduled leave on Saturday at 1:00pm, and all crew and researchers were to report later in the day for orientation, berthing assignments. We were to check out of the hotel by noon and to transfer all of our gear to the ship. A shuttle of Agunsa pickup trucks and vans would make the rounds of the hotels and the warehouse to assist.

In the late morning, I checked back in with Steve and brought him ginger ale and water. He was not doing much better and was running fever. In this, I realized that he was in no condition to move to the ship or deal with clothing issue. So, I arranged for him to spend another night at the hotel and to have his ECW fitting session rescheduled for the next morning. No problem, as we would be leaving after lunch.

The ship was a hive of activity: gear was being checked, stowed and lashed to the deck for the crossing. Fresh vegetables and other resupply was being laden for Palmer Station. I wandered the ship...

Trent Sanamo, one of two Marine Technicians (MTs) aboad for ASA repairs a winch.

Stephanie Suhr, from Hamburg, Germany (via Southhampton Oceanography Centre), inspects her core sampling gear.

In the evening, Andrew, Terry and tried a different place for dinner and stopped by a bar afterwards to take in some of the local color. We settled in at the Calipso, a sprawling tavern with well worn carpeting, which featured karoke singing and a very loud sound system. The karoke was of the video variety and was monopolized by a middle aged man in an urban gaucho attire with a full tenor voice: he was the evening's entertainment. He crooned away to an eclectic audience comprising ourselves, a clutch of secretaries and an assortment of tourists, single gentlemen and an elderly homeless man who nursed a bowl of soup. Quite suddenly, Terry got very pale, said he didn't feel well and bolted for the door. We caught up with him back at the ship--a delayed response to the food we had had the night before. That was two down...and Andrew was feeling a little queasy. I wondered if and when it would hit me. Enroute, we ran into Phil Sacks who said that he had spoken with Steve and planned to send a doctor to check on him in the morning.