Flamingo - Sport & Adventure - Exploring the last frontier
Going where no one has gone before, researching virgin ground, completely untouched before – isn’t this the desire of many scientists? The aspiration of going to infinity and beyond and chasing dreams has driven many early expeditions; it still inspires today’s researchers – but virgin places are no longer easy to find.
In Namibia, however, a small group of geologists and environmentalists are still privileged to be able to experience this wonderful feeling of going to the last frontier as they carry out their work in pursuit of the diamonds that nature has deposited at the bottom of Namibia’s southern Atlantic Ocean.
Millions of years ago, diamonds were brought to the surface of the earth by volcanic activities. Erosion was followed by transport down the Orange River to the coast, where they were deposited along the beaches supporting Namibia’s well-known diamond industry. But not all diamonds ended their journey on the beach. A larger number settled on the sea floor, and recovering these gems with large mining vessels is indeed the future of the Namibian mining industry. Today, more than half of all diamonds produced annually come from the sea floor, and Namibia has developed into the world’s leading marine diamond producer. Mining the seafloor is completely different from mining on land. No geologist walks the outcrops and samples are taken by remote tools, likewise mining is done with mining tools deployed way below the mining vessel.
But observations of the scientist’s eye cannot be completely replaced
with even the most sophisticated technology. DeBeers Marine Namibia
therefore makes use of the small submersible Jago, to ‘go and have a
look’. Of interest is first and foremost the location of diamondiferous
gravels. But checking mined-out areas is also crucial, as the amount of
gravel left behind is indicative of the efficiency of the mining tool.
Environmental observations before mining are as important as tracing
natural rehabilitation after mining.
The Jago is a very small submersible with space for one pilot and one
observer. It operates independently, and once submerged, is only
tracked acoustically. Navigation is supported by compass, sonar and
depth gauges, as well as powerful lights. Communication between the
crew and ship is by through-water telephone. The Jago was built in 1989
and has been operated since by zoologist Hans Fricke, engineer Jürgen
Schauer and zoologist Karin Hissmann, and the small German team has
gained tremendous experience in underwater research and exploration.
Jürgen pilots the submersible, and has logged more than 1 300 dives.
Given the opportunity by DeBeers Marine Namibia, I embarked upon my
experience of a lifetime. Transfer from the shore to the support ship
was by helicopter and rubber dinghy, an experience in itself!
Thereafter, we had to wait for a calm day to launch the Jago without
the typical heavy southern Atlantic swells causing problems. When that
day arrived, Jürgen and I took our positions inside the Jago, Jürgen at
the controls and I in front of the porthole to make my observations.
Slowly, we were lifted and then gently placed onto the surface of the
ocean by a crane. Here, we had to wait a short while, as a diver
disconnected the ropes between the Jago and the crane, while the Jago
bobbed up and down in the waves. The view through the porthole
resembled a washing machine in motion! But then we were all by
ourselves, as the diver appeared for the last time in front of the
porthole and gave us a thumbs-up.
Jürgen turned a switch and soft classical music started to play as we
gradually descended into the depths of the ocean. For the first couple
of metres the penetrating rays of the sun formed wonderful geometrical
patterns in the water, and myriads of plankton reflected the sunlight
as we went deeper and deeper. Gracefully, a large jellyfish passed by,
its rhythmic movement seemingly a ballet in time with the music we were
listening to. More and more the light diminished, until we were
completely engulfed in darkness, feeling completely weightless.
Then, all of a sudden – a noise underneath the submersible – and the
feeling of weightlessness was gone. We had reached the seafloor at a
water depth of 150 metres! The outside lights were switched on, the
music off, and our work started. Jürgen carefully navigated, and I
recorded my observations on tape. Our task was to look for gravels in
an area earmarked for mining, but not explored before. I could
therefore live my dream to do research on virgin ground to the fullest.
As we moved across the seafloor, I noted the morphology to interpret
what might be underneath. Areas with huge blocks were followed by
smooth relief, and we keenly noted the co-ordinates of spots looking as
if there could be diamonds. But we also observed marine life: an
octopus hastily disappearing into a hole to escape our bright lights;
little squids undisturbed by us, but engaged in fighting and spilling a
lot of their ink to blur our vision; and the odd fish giving us a
reproachful look before vanishing.
While moving along the seafloor, time seems no longer to matter.
However, the voice of Karin through the acoustic telephone, sounding
like Neil Armstrong phoning from the moon, brought us back to reality.
While we spent our time on the quiet ocean floor, a storm started to
brew above, and she was afraid it would become too rough to recover the
submersible without problems. So we had to return to where we had come
from two hours ago. The lights were switched off, the music on, and we
ascended. The sunlight slowly reappeared, again illuminating the
plankton as if it were snowing outside. Back at the surface, it was the
difficult task of the diver to reconnect all the ropes so that the Jago
could be lifted onto the ship. The washing machine outside my porthole
had switched to spinning mode as we were tossed about in the water, and
in the distance we could see the ship moving up and down in heavy
swells. Once we were dangling in mid-air suspended from the crane, it
was the duty of all hands on board to pull the ropes to make sure we
didn’t smash into the side of the ship. That’s why Karin had been so
worried!
Once securely fastened on deck, it was time for me to leave my seat at
the porthole. I had been privileged to go where no geologist had
explored before, and I instantly knew that this was one of the greatest
highlights of my career!
