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Crew health

Sol 6: Man down!

While out on an EVA today, Darrel broke his leg. He had someone with him, of course—in this case, Mike—who was able to radio back to the Hab about the accident and request emergency assistance. Brian, Carla, and Kiri quickly suited up, and Luis remained behind to serve as HabCom and monitor our progress via radio. Twenty-one minutes later, we were exiting the airlock and on our way to rescue our downed crew member.

Brian and Carla building the rescue sled

Brian and Carla building the rescue sled

Lest the reader be overly anxious at this point, I should explain that Darrel didn’t really break his leg. We had decided to test our ability to respond to an emergency in which one crew member was unable to move. Carla and Brian spent the morning constructing a sled that could be used to drag someone back to the Hab behind an ATV. When the emergency call came in at 3:04 p.m., we all leapt into action. I plugged the coordinates that Mike reported into my GPS unit (fumbling a bit as I hadn’t ever tried to enter coordinates manually before—lesson learned!). We suited up in record time (13 minutes). Outside, Brian attached the sled to the Viking-1 ATV and kicked it into gear. Carla and I trailed along in his wake, on foot.

We had stepped out into a snowy, misty world, where visibility was limited to about a quarter-mile. The sun lit up the fog, shedding silvery light all around us, and the hills were white mounds with patches of red peeking through on the south-facing slopes. Crunching along on the snowy road, we could see that we needed to head northeast to reach Mike and Darrel. The road would be more convenient for the sled, but their footprints led off to the north and we wanted to be sure we could reach them. So we headed off over the lumpy snow. (Our out-of-sim concerns about avoiding off-road ATV use were allayed by the thick layer of snow.) Viking-1 performed heroically, and the sled slid along behind in fine form.

Darrel on the sled

Darrel on the sled

Brian, Mike, and Carla carrying Darrel towards the rescue sled

Brian, Mike, and Carla carrying Darrel towards the rescue sled

We walked and walked, hoping with each rise that we’d suddenly see Mike and Darrel. But each time we were only rewarded with new views of their twin footprints, leading us onward. Finally, at 3:45 p.m. and about half a mile from the Hab, we crested a larger hill and discovered our fallen comrade, attended by Mike. We couldn’t get the ATV up to the foot of the rocky cliff where he’d “fallen”, so we lifted and carried him down to the ATV and sled. At that point we discovered that we were only about 40 yards from Lowell Highway, so after strapping Darrel to the sled, we continued on to the highway. Turning onto the snow-covered, graded road, we were able to make better time. We were back to the Hab by 4:35 p.m., at which point Darrel was again carried up into the airlock and, after depressurization, Luis was able to attend to his injuries.

rescue-trip-backrescue-brian-kiri
rescue-trip-back-2rescue-trip-back-3

A video of the rescue operation is in the works!

Another notable achievement for the day: Darrel and Luis put Viking-2’s carburetor back together and installed it, but so far no luck in starting the ATV. We’ll keep trying.

In the evening, we assembled for our second group exercise session. This time, Luis was our instructor and taught us basic capoeira moves—and wowed us with his advanced spinning and kicking! We all got a good workout (and no doubt entertained any webcam watchers). Now we’re busily filing reports and anticipating a tasty AlpineAir meal: Leonardo da Fettuccine.

Carla breaking the ice in our water tank

Carla breaking the ice in our water tank

How far would you go to stay “in sim”?

The goal of this exercise is to live and work in a simulated Mars environment. But obviously we aren’t actually on Mars, and it is physically possible to go outside and breathe the atmosphere here (although it has been so cold that actually surviving the night outside the Hab would be challenging!). So during the mission, we distinguish between things done “in sim” (imposing constraints as if the outside environment were Mars) and “out of sim” (reverting to actual Earth constraints).

As you’d expect, we strive to do everything possible in sim. The day a new crew arrives is an exception, since there are 12 people (but only 6 suits) and a lot of information has to be conveyed in a short time, walking around to see and learn all of the systems. But after that, we are confined to our Hab, or going out in suits, aside from our “pressurized tunnels” that connects the Hab to the GreenHab (water recycling), “pressurized garage” where the ATVs live, the Musk Observatory, and the Engineering Station where the generators and fuel supplies are. These aren’t enclosed, but we pretend they are, since in a real landed mission the crew would likely have erected just such connections so that they could access those critical systems not actually in the Hab. The tunnels are delineated with rock-lined paths, so we are careful not to step outside of them.

But of course, staying in sim has its tedious downsides (that’s part of what you learn from this experience), like when you’re in your spacesuit and you get halfway through the 5-minute wait to “depressurize” the airlock, then remember that you forgot to grab the ATV keys. You could “break sim” to reach back inside and get the keys, or stay in sim and wait to repressurize the airlock, go inside, get the keys, return to the airlock, and wait to depressurize again. In this case, we opted to have another crew member run the keys outside (through the pressurized tunnel, to the pressurized ATV garage) and put them in the ATVs—since on Mars, we wouldn’t bother to bring the keys in and out with us. (It is incredibly remote here, but in theory it is possible for other people to wander down the road to the Hab and therefore the ATVs could be stolen, if we left the keys in them all the time.) But each such snag has to be worked through logically, to determine what would or would not be possible in a Martian environment, so that we can keep the simulation fidelity as high as possible.

So far we have opted in every such case, but one, to stay in sim, including two days ago when an EVA crew had to come back in and go through the pressurization/depressurization cycle to retrieve sunglasses (the snow was too bright!). As a result, EVA 7 became EVAs 7 and 8, and of course, this took up more time than planned.

The one exception to staying in sim was on EVA 8, when Carla’s helmet fogged up so much that she could not see where she was walking! After trying a variety of methods to deal with the condensation, she finally gave up and took off her helmet. In a real mission, she would probably have put her arm on another crew member’s shoulder and followed them, blind, back to the Hab. We had a good time joking about “dead” Carla, and considered holding a memorial session for her that night, but she declined. 🙂 Meanwhile, Brian’s helmet was just as fogged, but he was too darn stubborn to take it off!

This experience also got us thinking about other good exercises to conduct on EVA. What if a crew member were physically incapacitated and could not get back to the Hab under their own power, even being led? Previous crews have experimented with a fireman’s carry. We’ve decided to try a strategy based on our current weather conditions (3 inches of snow on the ground). I can hear some of the crew outside sawing and assembling a sled. We plan to have one EVA crew go out, get far enough to be out of line of sight, and then have a simulated accident in which one crew member cannot move. At that point they’ll radio back their GPS coordinates, and we’ll send a second crew out on the ATVs, with the sled, to rescue them. We’ll report back on this ambitious plan and what we learn from the attempt!

Sol 4: Snow day!

Snow surrounding the Hab

Snow surrounding the Hab

We woke up to about 2 inches of snow on the ground, shrouding the red hills in a crisp blanket of white. Everyone wanted to pitch in for engineering rounds, to have an excuse to get outside! (We can check on the Green Hab, ATVs, and Musk Observatory “in sim” via marked rock paths that serve as “pressurized tunnels” so that we can reach those areas without donning a spacesuit.) But when we stepped out of the Engineering airlock, we discovered that the snow was still coming down and, entranced, we all scrambled up to the top of the Observatory ridge to see the view. White hills stretched out in all directions, and a soft, heavy silence hung over us—not oppressive, but hushed, as an indrawn breath before an exclamation of delight.

Concretions

Concretions

Carla, Brian, and Darrel pumped water into our water tank while Mike and I checked and started the ATVs (to keep them in good order). Then I went back up towards the Observatory, following a tip I’d seen that there were good examples of concretions in some of the rocks lining the path;
More concretions

More concretions

and sure enough, they were evident despite the snow, protruding from the bottom of overhangs and sprinkled everywhere! These are similar to the infamous “blueberries” that the Opportunity rover on Mars discovered, having formed by precipitation into dissolved-out pockets within porous sandstone.

We reluctantly went back inside and turned to our various individual tasks. Our EVA plans for the day were affected by the weather; just when we’d gained confidence on our ATVs, the snow now meant that for safety reasons we’d focus on pedestrian EVAs instead. Another side effect of the snow was that our internet connection (via satellite dish) went out at some point in the morning. However, this presented an opportunity as well: we decided to wait until an EVA crew could get outside and brush the snow off our receiver to (hopefully) restore connectivity without breaking sim to fix it.

In general, though, our whole pace slowed down a little, which was to many of us, I think, a welcome reprieve from the rush-rush-rush of the past three days. Luis, Carla, and Brian set out on an EVA to Candor Chasma, located to the east. More about that adventure in the next post, from Carla!

Living on Mars

Possibly the biggest challenge to living within a cylindrical habitat with five other people is adjusting to the fact that outside is considered hostile. There are no leisurely walks, no strolls through the park, and no lying in grass watching clouds drift by. To speak of it, there’s no grass to speak of! Aside from EVAs, which are more work-oriented than anything else, and engineering rounds (same thing), there isn’t any opportunity to get out of the Hab for any extended period of time.

So, we’ve gotten used to these surroundings in the few days that we’ve been here, especially the upper deck of the Hab. This is where most of the work gets done: filing reports at the end of each day, planning EVAs, cooking, eating, relaxing, and bonding as a team. The space is very multi-purpose, with the main central table serving as both a kitchen table and a workstation (or game table), the kitchen sitting right next to the main workbench, and it allows access to every other part of the Hab.

Our day, however, begins in the state rooms, each of which is composed of nothing more than a bunk and a small desk (and a few have installed shelving). For most of us, these state rooms are just for sleeping and storing anything we can’t leave out in the main room, although Brian and Carla do complete quite a bit of work in their larger rooms as benefit to being our Commander and XO, respectively. While my state room, pictured to the right, is quite messy, it’s more to allow access to anything I may need immediately, hence the spread of supplies on my desk.

After waking up and getting dressed, breakfast and a morning meeting are held around the central table. Breakfast usually consists of oatmeal or cereal, along with whatever dried fruits or nuts we decide to include. Today I had Honey Nut Cheerios with powdered milk, plus some raisins on the side, for those of you that were wondering…

Since we are in sim, the only time we can leave the Hab (aside from engineering rounds, which I’ll get too later) is while on EVA, or Extra-Vehicular Activity; those trips start in the EVA Prep Room, pictured to the right. Here is where we store everything that is needed for an EVA, at least everything that can be carried that isn’t specifically engineering related. During the suit-up procedure, the Marsonauts first put on their flight suits (hanging in the background). When we first arrived at MDRS, we tried on the suits until we found one that would fit, then Velcro-ed our mission patch and name tags onto our selected flight suits. They then don their boots and waders, along with their radios and headsets. At this point, their is usually also a com check between the Marsonauts and HabCom (the person who stays behind to communicate with those on the surface) before the suit-up procedure progresses. Once everything checks out, they then strap into their PLSS (Portable Life Support System), usually with the help of someone in the ready room. This backpack allows the EVA personnel to survive outside of the Hab as it filters and transfers breathable air to the helmet, which is put on next. A final check is made before the Marsonauts enter the airlock, where they must wait for five minutes for depressurization, before leaving the Hab and stepping out onto the surface. Once they return, this process is repeated in reverse, usually followed by a hot meal for the returning explorers.

During the day, a lot of the work is completed in the lower deck, which includes the EVA Prep Room, main airlock, Biology and Geology labs, engineering bay and airlock, as well as the bathroom and shower. Since our completed EVAs (four in total) haven’t been centered on either Biology and Geology, the main lab area (pictured) has mostly just been inventoried and cleaned by Luís, our Biologist. There is an EVA out currently that focuses on geology and geophysics, plus there is a planned EVA later today centered on biology, so this area will mostly likely being in use more for the rest of the mission. Darrel, our Engineer, is also using the area as an interior engineering bay and repair station for basically the entire Hab.

Speaking of engineering, the Hab also requires a power supply separate from the Hab and its vicinity. In a future Martian habitat, this power station will be much more than a diesel engine, so it needs to be separated from the Hab for the safety of the astronauts. During engineering rounds, Darrel and usually one other member of the crew (recently it has been either Kiri or Carla) check the power supply, batteries, ATVs, general Hab upkeep, Green Hab (which is both a greenhouse and a water recycling facility), and the various systems that are required in order to keep everything running smoothly. During a typical day, rounds are made in the morning (following the meeting) and at night before our mission support window opens at 2000 Local Time. This gives the engineer enough time to make the measurements and other checks, fix anything that needs fixing, and file a report so that (for any major problems), Mission Support can help troubleshoot things.

Once everyone is inside, the ATVs are shut down, the final rounds are made, and reports are filed, the rest of the day/night is for us. Usually that consists of preliminary planning sessions for the next day, eating the rest of the prepared dinner, and completing anything that couldn’t be completed during the day. Combusting cakes usually aren’t on the agenda, or if they were I wouldn’t know about them prior to, right?

All in all, just another day on Mars.

Sol 2: Patisserie Pyrotechnics

Mike working on the radio telescope power combiner

Mike working on the radio telescope power combiner

We were fortunate with the weather once again today: dazzling sun bouncing off the red hills and white snow. We stayed closer to the Hab, with both of our EVAs devoted to the final steps needed to get the radio telescope operational. During the first expedition outside, Mike and Brian dug up the mounting post for the power combiner and moved it underneath the north antenna. Our second EVA was notable in that we had four crew members participating: Mike, Darrel, Kiri, and Luis. Working in pairs, we raised the two poles associated with the north antenna from 10 feet to 19.5 feet high. Or rather, we were instructed to raise it to 20 feet, but the nested tube only went up to 19.5 before popping out.
Shadows of Mike and Brian on EVA5

Shadows of Mike and Brian on EVA3

I caught mine before it came out, but Darrel’s did escape, and he was stuck trying to hold two 10-foot PVC tubes in vertical alignment while balancing at the top of a ladder in a spacesuit and helmet. I was grateful to Luis, who was a rock-solid support in steadying the ladder beneath me. I bolted my tubes together and moved my ladder over under Darrel so that he could straddle the two and he quickly re-set his tubes. We finished up, took some pictures, and headed back to the Hab.

“HabCom,” Mike radioed, “We’re ready to enter the airlock.”

There was no response.

Darrel and Mike raise the north radio telescope antenna

Darrel and Mike raise the north radio telescope antenna

Mike tried again. The rest of us tried. We waved our arms at the tiny portholes on the second floor. But there was no response from Carla and Brian, who were (we hoped) still in the Hab. Now, we weren’t actually locked out. And we couldn’t actually run out of air. But this was only EVA #4, and in every previous case, there was immediate response from HabCom to any radio hail, and we always had someone in the EVA prep room to receive us. After five minutes or so, we decided to go in anyway. The sun was setting and the cold was setting in. Mike announced, “HabCom, we are entering the airlock,” and then we heard Brian’s most welcome voice: “EVA crew, copy that.”
The intrepid EVA4 crew (Kiri, Mike, Luis, and Darrel) after raising the north antenna

The intrepid EVA4 crew (Kiri, Mike, Luis, and Darrel) after raising the north antenna

It turned out that the radio had been set with the volume too low for Carla and Brian to hear us, and they hadn’t expected us back so soon. We were soon in, de-suited, and de-briefed.

On our return, Luis tackled the least appetizing task of the day: cleaning the toilet and shower enclosure. Yes, the shower! Although it has been inoperable for weeks, Darrel used his ingenuity to find the burst section of pipe and correct the problem. We’re looking forward to our very first showers this evening, which will go to Luis and Darrel! We’re all thrilled.

But the biggest thrill of the day came right after dinner. Our Crew Astronomer, Mike, turns 21 today. He had a very eventful day, including leading both our EVAs today as EVA Commander, getting the radio telescope closer to completion, and (as a surprise) a chocolate birthday cake made entirely from scratch! (Not trivial when you have no milk nor eggs!) Carla sprinkled it with powdered sugar, and we lit 21 candles on top while Mike was downstairs. When he came back up, we turned off the lights, sang “Happy Birthday”, and then Mike leaned over to blow them out. And a blowtorch erupted from the cake. I’ve never seen anything like it! Apparently his breath lofted most of the powdered sugar high enough to combust in the candle flame and what had been 21 shimmering lights turned into a cloud of flame. Phenomenal! And… don’t try this at home! But no worries: no one was singed. We laughed uproariously, turned the lights back on, wiped powdered sugar off the table, and Mike opened a card and chocolates (from Russia, via Carla!).

Mike blows out his birthday candles

Mike blows out his birthday candles

Happy Birthday, Mike! Thanks for spending your 21st with us!