Echoes of a Transforming Earth

Tracing the Evidence of a World in Flux

One of my favorite things about being on the ocean is the light. When it’s calm, the surface acts like a mirror, reflecting and scattering all that golden light back to you. Everyone is out, taking in the breathtaking beauty. We move slower, knowing the next wave of chaos is coming—and then calm, and chaos again.
Using these tubes to draw water from various depths, we analyze tracers that reveal information about the source water masses during the oceanographic cruise.
Recovering a mooring after a year on the seafloor—collecting valuable data on ocean properties like salinity, temperature, and current velocity.
Keeping the ship clean and safe to ensure smooth operations at sea.
Water is filtered through a fine mesh to remove larger particles and debris, allowing for the analysis of trace concentrations of specific chemicals or biological markers.
It takes a lot of minds and hands working together to ensure everything runs smoothly and safely.
All eyes on deck as the team watches for the first mooring to be acoustically released, triggered by a ping from the ship.
Lowering the CTD into the water column, measuring conductivity, temperature, and depth—cast after cast, day and night, gathering essential data.
Labrador Sea.
Preparing the wet lab for a new round of analyses and experiments.
We work around the clock in 12-hour shifts to maximize operational efficiency, ensuring that at least three crew members and three scientists are awake and active at all times.
Fun is so important, always.

Flying north, broken sea ice scatters across the surface. I’ve never seen beauty quite like this.
Quick stop in Pond Inlet, with icebergs visible right from shore—one of three stops on the way to our field site.
Twin Otter flight to Grise Fiord, Canada’s northernmost community—where fieldwork means hauling instruments, equipment, food, water, safety gear, and thick layers for the elements.
At 76° North, the only way to reach the field site is by helicopter — making access a unique challenge.
Lidar surveys detect changes in beach profiles, providing detailed data on coastal dynamics.
Training in the field, gaining hands-on experience while collecting valuable data.
One of the team’s tasks: sampling glacial meltwater to study its chemistry and the nutrients it carries—essential for understanding Arctic biogeochemistry.
Jakeman Glacier, Nunavut.
In mid‑August at 76° N, the sun barely dips below the horizon, stretching the day into a slow, golden evening.
The bay changes daily. One moment it’s packed with jagged piles of sea ice pushed onto the beach; twelve hours later, the wind clears it all away. You have to move with it.
Hundreds of belugas passed through. So close to shore, sometimes just 40 meters away. It was wild.
Polar bears are common, and locals caution that even walking within the community without a firearm carries real risk.
Grise Fiord, known in Inuktitut as Ausuittuq—'the place that never thaws'—is home to about 150 people. Conducting science here relies on the invaluable guidance, knowledge, and generosity of the local community.
Time to head back south, leaving the Arctic behind—for now.

Echoes of a Transforming Earth

Using these tubes to draw water from various depths, we analyze tracers that reveal information about the source water masses during the oceanographic cruise.

Recovering a mooring after a year on the seafloor—collecting valuable data on ocean properties like salinity, temperature, and current velocity.

Keeping the ship clean and safe to ensure smooth operations at sea.

Water is filtered through a fine mesh to remove larger particles and debris, allowing for the analysis of trace concentrations of specific chemicals or biological markers.

It takes a lot of minds and hands working together to ensure everything runs smoothly and safely.

All eyes on deck as the team watches for the first mooring to be acoustically released, triggered by a ping from the ship.

Lowering the CTD into the water column, measuring conductivity, temperature, and depth—cast after cast, day and night, gathering essential data.

Labrador Sea.

Preparing the wet lab for a new round of analyses and experiments.

We work around the clock in 12-hour shifts to maximize operational efficiency, ensuring that at least three crew members and three scientists are awake and active at all times.

Fun is so important, always.

Flying north, broken sea ice scatters across the surface. I’ve never seen beauty quite like this.

Quick stop in Pond Inlet, with icebergs visible right from shore—one of three stops on the way to our field site.

Twin Otter flight to Grise Fiord, Canada’s northernmost community—where fieldwork means hauling instruments, equipment, food, water, safety gear, and thick layers for the elements.

At 76° North, the only way to reach the field site is by helicopter — making access a unique challenge.

Lidar surveys detect changes in beach profiles, providing detailed data on coastal dynamics.

Training in the field, gaining hands-on experience while collecting valuable data.

One of the team’s tasks: sampling glacial meltwater to study its chemistry and the nutrients it carries—essential for understanding Arctic biogeochemistry.

Jakeman Glacier, Nunavut.

In mid‑August at 76° N, the sun barely dips below the horizon, stretching the day into a slow, golden evening.

The bay changes daily. One moment it’s packed with jagged piles of sea ice pushed onto the beach; twelve hours later, the wind clears it all away. You have to move with it.

Hundreds of belugas passed through. So close to shore, sometimes just 40 meters away. It was wild.

Polar bears are common, and locals caution that even walking within the community without a firearm carries real risk.

Grise Fiord, known in Inuktitut as Ausuittuq—'the place that never thaws'—is home to about 150 people. Conducting science here relies on the invaluable guidance, knowledge, and generosity of the local community.

Time to head back south, leaving the Arctic behind—for now.

Protect what you love

Elena Savidge Photo

Location

Contact

Echoes of a Transforming Earth

Using these tubes to draw water from various depths, we analyze tracers that reveal information about the source water masses during the oceanographic cruise.

Recovering a mooring after a year on the seafloor—collecting valuable data on ocean properties like salinity, temperature, and current velocity.

Keeping the ship clean and safe to ensure smooth operations at sea.

Water is filtered through a fine mesh to remove larger particles and debris, allowing for the analysis of trace concentrations of specific chemicals or biological markers.

It takes a lot of minds and hands working together to ensure everything runs smoothly and safely.

All eyes on deck as the team watches for the first mooring to be acoustically released, triggered by a ping from the ship.

Lowering the CTD into the water column, measuring conductivity, temperature, and depth—cast after cast, day and night, gathering essential data.

Labrador Sea.

Preparing the wet lab for a new round of analyses and experiments.

We work around the clock in 12-hour shifts to maximize operational efficiency, ensuring that at least three crew members and three scientists are awake and active at all times.

Fun is so important, always.

Flying north, broken sea ice scatters across the surface. I’ve never seen beauty quite like this.

Quick stop in Pond Inlet, with icebergs visible right from shore—one of three stops on the way to our field site.

Twin Otter flight to Grise Fiord, Canada’s northernmost community—where fieldwork means hauling instruments, equipment, food, water, safety gear, and thick layers for the elements.

At 76° North, the only way to reach the field site is by helicopter — making access a unique challenge.

Lidar surveys detect changes in beach profiles, providing detailed data on coastal dynamics.

Training in the field, gaining hands-on experience while collecting valuable data.

One of the team’s tasks: sampling glacial meltwater to study its chemistry and the nutrients it carries—essential for understanding Arctic biogeochemistry.

Jakeman Glacier, Nunavut.

In mid‑August at 76° N, the sun barely dips below the horizon, stretching the day into a slow, golden evening.

The bay changes daily. One moment it’s packed with jagged piles of sea ice pushed onto the beach; twelve hours later, the wind clears it all away. You have to move with it.

Hundreds of belugas passed through. So close to shore, sometimes just 40 meters away. It was wild.

Polar bears are common, and locals caution that even walking within the community without a firearm carries real risk.

Grise Fiord, known in Inuktitut as Ausuittuq—'the place that never thaws'—is home to about 150 people. Conducting science here relies on the invaluable guidance, knowledge, and generosity of the local community.

Time to head back south, leaving the Arctic behind—for now.

Protect what you love

slowing down

Elena Savidge Photo

Location

Contact

In mid‑August at 76° N, the sun barely dips below the horizon, stretching the day into a slow, golden evening.