Polar science mission takes Arctic temperature

By Sandi Doughton
Seattle Times staff reporter

	PETER WEST / NATIONAL SCIENCE James Morison of the University of Washington takes water samples from the Arctic Ocean as part of the National Science Foundation's North Pole Environmental Observatory project.
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The native people who live near the top of the world started noticing the changes years ago: Arctic floes that broke up earlier each spring; unprecedented swarms of jellyfish as well as warm-water creatures; tundra melting into marshland.

When scientists trained their analytical tools on the North Pole and its environs, they quantified the local knowledge: The polar ice cap is 40 percent thinner and millions of acres smaller than it was in the 1970s.

During the same time frame, average springtime temperatures have climbed three to four degrees, and atmospheric and ocean currents have shifted.

The first long-term effort to track those signs of climate change is under way now, led by the University of Washington. The goal is to not only provide a continuous chronicle, but also help determine whether the driving forces are man-made, natural — or both.

"We believe there's some mix between a natural cycle, like El Niño, and a global-warming signal, and one of the key things is to try to separate the two," said James Morison, the polar-science veteran who heads up the North Pole Environmental Observatory program.

The wired pole The North Pole Environmental Observatory program Web site has information about this year's expedition, including e-mails from scientists: psc.apl.washington.edu/northpole/. Once the cameras are deployed, live Web-cam pictures will be available at: www.arctic.noaa.gov/gallery_np.html. Pictures taken in previous years are available to view now.

The $4 million project could also help explain how the new climate regime in the far north can affect weather patterns farther south, including in the Pacific Northwest.

Over the next three weeks, Morison and about 20 colleagues from several institutions will camp near the North Pole, setting up an array of automated instruments that collect year-round data on ice thickness, cloud cover, air temperature and dozens of other variables.

One of the devices, planted in the constantly moving ice cap, gives the public a live, Web-cam view of the frozen landscape and allows the scientists to keep an eye on some of their equipment after they've returned home.

"You put this stuff out and you fly away, so you don't know if ... a polar bear is licking your sensors or the ice has opened up and swallowed the instrument," said oceanographer Jim Overland, of the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration's Pacific Marine Environmental Laboratory in Seattle. "Now I can see what's going on from my office."

This is the team's fifth, and perhaps last, major expedition under the five-year program, funded by the National Science Foundation.

Their data so far reveal that a vortex of winds swirling above the North Pole has speeded up in recent years and is rotating in a more forceful, counter-clockwise direction. Those winds break up the ice and shove it away from the pole, while also driving warmer water into the Arctic. As the ice cracks and melts, the open water absorbs more solar heat, accelerating the process and possibly explaining why the size of the ice pack reached historic lows in 2002 and 2003.

Computer models have long predicted that some of the earliest and most extreme evidence of global warming caused by greenhouse gases from cars and industries would appear in the Arctic as rising temperatures quickly disrupt the ice-and-water balance that normally keeps conditions stable. And unlike Antarctica, which is a continent, the Arctic has no land mass to help buffer the temperatures.

"Three or four degrees are huge changes anywhere, but they can really make a difference in a region that's close to the melting point of ice," Morison said.

What happens at the North Pole can affect the rest of the planet, potentially altering the course of the Gulf Stream, which moderates climate from the East Coast of the United States to the British Isles. Closer to home, the jet stream that dictates much of Seattle's weather can be diverted when the polar vortex speeds up.

"It's probably contributing to the fact that it's warmer and we've been getting less snow," Overland said.

NSF hopes to join with other agencies to mount a permanent monitoring program at the pole, using the Seattle team's experience as a model, said Neil Swanberg, director of Arctic research for the science foundation.

The Soviets used to operate an extensive network of Arctic ice stations, which was dismantled after the end of the Cold War. The U.S. Navy no longer allows scientists to gather data from nuclear submarines patrolling under the ice cap.

"We need to make these long-term, stable observations," said Morison, who took one of the final sub rides in the early 1990s.

Another reason for the scant data from the North Pole is the sheer challenge of doing science in a place where shifting ice can crush buildings and Arctic foxes gnaw through wires. At the Russian encampment where the UW team stayed in 2003, the ice runway split apart just hours after two airplanes took off.

Norwegian-born Andy Heiberg handles logistics for the team, as he has for dozens of polar expeditions over the past three decades. This year, that included packing 10 tons of gear into a 40-foot cargo container and shepherding it on the long journey to the pole via a transport chain that starts with a Canadian semi and ends with rented Russian helicopters and their sometimes-unpredictable pilots.

Late April and early May provide the best window for North Pole work: after winter's darkness has lifted and before summer's sun turns the ice to knee-deep slush, Heiberg said. But even in spring — and despite the overall Arctic warming — temperatures commonly plummet to 20 degrees below zero. And the team always has to pack a rifle — insurance against hungry polar bears.

Many North Pole visitors are appalled by the Arctic's barren expanse of ice, said Morison, who thrills to a world so apart and unique. As a boy, he was inspired by "Alone," Adm. Robert Byrd's account of self-reliance during a six-month Antarctic expedition in 1934 that nearly cost the explorer his life.

"The Arctic is one of the last places where you can really be on your own," Morison said.

That isolation means researchers must carefully design instruments to stand up to the harsh environment and be prepared to fix the glitches that always occur in the field.

The centerpiece of the project is an array that consists of dozens of gauges and monitors strung on a 2-mile-long Kevlar cable. The scientists melt a hole in the ice and lower the underwater apparatus until its anchor rests on the ocean floor. They leave the device in place for a year, retrieving it the next spring and downloading massive amounts of data on ocean currents, temperature and salinity.

Overland's specialty is instruments called buoys, though they don't really resemble the familiar waterway markers. They do float, after a fashion, embedded in ice instead of bobbing in water.

This year, the team will leave five of the instruments, equipped with satellite transmitters to send back data on ice and weather — as well as the Web-cam images.

When he's unlucky, the buoys are crushed by converging ice plates, Overland said. In a good year, they ride the ice nearly 500 miles to the coast of Greenland before disappearing into the sea when the ice melts.

Sandi Doughton: 206-464-2491 or sdoughton@seattletimes.com

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