In
“The Log from the Sea of Cortez,” Steinbeck goes on to say, “And
this is an embarrassing question. We search for something that will seem
like truth to us, we search for understanding; we search for that
principle which keys us deeply into the pattern of all life; we search for
the relation of things, one to another.”
But in the end, that was not the answer they gave. Instead,
they said they were searching for curios—things that could be sold in
the United States. It wasn’t true, but it seemed to make more sense than
the truth.
All
of us aboard this vessel have faced that same embarrassing question. My
seatmate on the flight down to La Paz asked it. We all know from
experience that the answer “we search for the relation of things” is
unsatisfactory. Acceptable answers are, “We search for a cure for
cancer,” or “We search for a cure for global warming.” And so we
adjust our answer according to our audience. Seatmates on airplanes are a
captive audience and therefore can be inflicted with a bit more than the
sound bite they might have been hoping for. My seatmate got an earful
about our voyage of discovery to the largest and least explored frontier
of our planet, the ocean’s midwater. This is a world filled with
magnificent alien creatures, and it seems to me that the thrill of being
the first person to see an animal or a behavior never before observed
should be obvious, but apparently it’s not. Too many people believe that
our 
planet
has been explored and that the only remaining frontier is outer space.
It’s not true. Not by a long shot. But it is difficult to connect
with an audience that has no experience with the things you describe, so
when my seatmate’s eyes began to glaze over, I took pity on him. Perhaps
if I’d had pictures, I could have made him understand.
We have many advantages over Steinbeck and Ricketts in terms
of our collecting technology, not the least of which is our imagery.
Although the first Western Flyer carried cameras, both still and
movie, they lacked a competent photographer in their party and virtually
none of their attempts at photo documentation proved usable. The ROV Tiburon
bristles with modern cameras that provide instant gratification. We have
been out less than a week, and we have already collected almost 100 hours
of video and numbers of still images. These images are a big part of what
we are looking for as they provide important insight into the relation of
things. They are particularly valuable for documenting the fragile
midwater fauna—the jellies that used to be known only as the goo at the
bottom of the net.
My
own particular interest is the animals that make light, so it was
especially exciting for me on our very first dive as we collected close-up
images of a dragon fish called Stomias
atriventer. This fish has a bioluminescent chin barbel that juts
straight out in front of its mouth. Three prongs splay out from the end of
the barbell. Sometimes these remain rigid, and other times they arch
backwards as the fish swims. Using the suction sampler, we captured the
fish and brought it back up to the lab, where I recorded the best
bioluminescence I’ve ever seen from one of these fish. It probably
won’t cure cancer or solve global warming, but it is truth to me, and it
is the real answer to why I am here—for the chance to see things that no
one has ever seen before and “to search for the relation of things.”
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