25 years ago, in late August 1998, something interesting happened in Canadian atmospheric science:
A large Canadian scientific stratospheric balloon was launched from Saskatchewan on August 24, 1998. It was intended to have a flight lasting about 24 hours and stay relatively near its launch site. Instead, it went on an unexpected adventure across an ocean and into several countries’ airspaces. Fighter jets were tasked with taking it down. World news organizations covered the updates.
This is the MANTRA 1998 story.
What is a stratospheric balloon?
It’s a very large balloon, typically filled with Helium, that carries a scientific payload (instruments and support systems) weighing up to ~a tonne (1000 kg) into the stratosphere (15 to ~50 km altitude).
They can be as tall as the CN Tower observation deck!
Stratospheric balloons like MANTRA are much larger & complex than common weather balloons, which also are typically Helium filled and carry instruments into the stratosphere. But those payloads are very small and light: ~250 g. That makes MANTRA’s scientific sensor payload (~300 kg) about 1200 times larger. Some sensor payloads are even larger.
Eureka Weather Station balloon launch preparations.
MANTRA was 150 meters high or about the size of a 25-story building when at stratospheric altitudes.
Photo showing MANTRA98 being prepared for launch, overnight August 23/24, 1998.
The MANTRA balloon included a variety of instruments designed to measure ozone chemistry-related atmospheric gases. There were also systems for power and control of the balloon. Its gondola was 2 m × 2 m × 2 m in size, constructed using a light aluminum frame. The total payload weighed 630 kg.
Schematic of MANTRA gondola from Strong et al. 2005.
More specifically, MANTRA instruments sought to acquire:
Vertical profiles of: NO2, HNO3, HCl, CFC-11, CFC-12, N2O, CH4, temperature, and aerosol backscatter from balloon instruments.
Total columns of: O3, NO2, SO2, aerosol optical depth by ground-based spectrometers.
It has been a long road, but I have at last reached a significant milestone:
I’ve finished my Ph.D.
Working towards this goal at U of T’s Physics Dept. has been a difficult but rewarding experience. I’m thankful to many people. My supervisor, Prof. Kim Strong, especially, as well as my fieldwork teammates. Graduate school is an opportunity to grow and change. I’ve tried to make the most of it. I thought I’d reflect on a few highlights.
Fieldwork at PEARL
Travelling to the frozen northern edge of Canada each winter to maintain and operate instruments at the end of Polar Night was an incredible experience. (Part one of my articles about the campaigns for U of T News; a Virtual Tour of PEARL slideshow.)
Dan looks through boxes of equipment at the start of a PEARL campaign.
Spending a month at a time in an extremely remote and cold environment isn’t for everyone. But it was a great fit for me. I have developed a great affection for Canada’s Arctic.
Volodya and Dan carry Brewer spectrophotometer to the roof of the PEARL Ridge Lab (photo credit: Pierre Fogal)
In addition to the opportunity to contribute to important research – the measurements we took during campaigns was used to study the Canadian Arctic atmosphere, but also contributed to international networks studying our changing global atmosphere and validate satellite measurements – it was also an opportunity to develop and apply my interest in photography. I am delighted that the photos I took while at PEARL have been used in national newspapers, on the covers of science journals, and more. It was great fun.
Dan Weaver taking photos on Ellesmere Island, in the Canadian Arctic (Photo Credit: Paul Loewen)
During my first trip to PEARL in 2012, funding for the lab was ended as part of systematic cuts to Canadian science. My longstanding interest in politics primed me to take action. I wrote letters to politicians, talked to the media, contributed to science advocacy organizations, and helped to organize science marches in Toronto.
Marching down major streets of Canada’s largest city was an exhilarating experience. Most of all, I met incredible people also advocating for science in Canada.
Dan kicks off the 2017 Toronto March for Science (photo credit: Paul Martin)
Sharing PEARL’s Arctic research with the public
I believe PEARL’s work is important. But until I was on Kim’s research team, I had never heard of it. Nor was I aware of Canada’s incredibly successful science satellite, the Atmospheric Chemistry Experiment (ACE). I tried to raise the profile of these research projects. I can’t claim all Canadians know about PEARL and ACE. But I’d like to think that my school visits in Ontario and Nunavut, dozen public talks, social media channels, and other efforts have broadened recognition of their importance.
Social media can be a fun way to highlight fieldwork. Even if it’s exchanging jokes about how Eureka resembles an ice planet in a galaxy far, far away…
Science is largely funded by the public. I believe scientists should actively seek to connect with the public.
Dan giving a Story Collider talk about PEARL fieldwork (photo credit: Ally Chadwick, @JustMyFreckles)
Travel to conferences
I travelled to two major international conferences during grad school: the 2014 American Geophysical Union (AGU) meeting in San Francisco and the 2018 European Geophysical Union (EGU) meeting in Vienna. It was gratifying to present my research. Connecting with researchers from around the world was eye-opening and inspiring.
A keynote at AGU by former-US astronaut and then-NOAA chief Kathryn Sullivan still occasionally surfaces in my head. She discussed how she saw NOAA as America’s ‘environmental intelligence’ organization, which I thought was an interesting way to frame its work. For some audiences, I imagine it is more effective than focusing on the inherent value of environmental protection and science – even though I find the latter persuasive.
Dan discusses PEARL water vapour measurement research during poster session
In addition to conferences, I attended meetings of an international network PEARL measurements contribute to, giving me the chance to visit Switzerland, Japan, and Korea. I spent two weeks exploring Switzerland and Japan after the meetings with a friend of mine, Nathan. We had a great time on both trips. Both times I was left with the clear realization that Canada has really poor rail system… (I write this while on a train between Toronto and Ottawa that is an hour late…)
Japanese Shinkansen train that travels at 300 km/hr. VIA Rail can’t even dream this ambitious!
Starting an environmental organization on campus
I greatly enjoyed the interdisciplinary conversations I had with people at the U of T School of the Environment, where I took a collaborative program. I created an organization to foster a sense of community amongst the grad students there, the Graduate Environmental Students’ Association. One highlight for me was inviting Jennifer Baichwal to do a Q&A at a U of T screening of Watermark, a documentary she produced that explored society’s connections with water in collaboration renown Canadian photographer Edward Burtynsky. We held a screening of Watermark and had a Q&A with her. The execution of that event happened after I left GESA; it was nice to be able to sit back and enjoy it once the day arrived.
Dan moderating a panel discussion about neonicotinoids for a GESA event at U of T
Teaching
Before grad school and my research internship at the Toronto Atmospheric Observatory (I have an interest in rooftop views), I took a degree in education and became an Ontario-certified physics and civics teacher. When I started grad school, I was keen to dive into duties as a Teaching Assistant. The department recognized my interest and qualifications and gave me opportunities to apply those skills as a Senior TA. I trained new graduate students in teaching and managed a large team of TAs for a first-year physics course.
Dan discussing science engagement at U of T’s Rawtalk Live event
Even more interesting, I co-created a pilot course connecting science students with entrepreneurship on campus. I worked with a Rotman School Prof. to give top U of T science undergrads a chance at applying their analytical skills on the real-world challenges faced by U of T startup companies. It was an good experience for everyone involved and it was a reminder to me that most students don’t go into academia after they graduate. I continue to believe we should do more to connect university undergraduate students with experiences and information related to non-academic career paths.
What’s next?
The journey was fulfilling, frustrating, and fun. I’d love to travel to PEARL one last time, but that’s unlikely. It’s time for something new.
I’m aiming to keep to keep engaged with the themes that defined my life over the last decade: physics and education, science and society, and interdisciplinary environmental issues. I’d like to fit in some music and outdoors time, too.
But where exactly I’m headed will be my next post. Onwards to 2019!
Days are getting longer everywhere in the northern hemisphere this time of year.* In the Arctic, the change in sunlight is particularly dramatic.
A few days ago, sunlight returned to Eureka, Nunavut for the first time since October, marking the end of Polar Night.
Joseph Mendonca and I watch the sun rise late morning on Feb. 25, 2013 in Eureka, Nunavut (photo credit: Paul Loewen)
During the transition between Polar Night and the continuous daylight of summer (“Midnight Sun”), a team of Canadian scientists take measurements of the changing atmosphere above Eureka at the Polar Environment Atmospheric Research Laboratory (PEARL) using specialized instruments.
(I was part of that team until recently. Daily updates from the campaign are posted here.)
Installing atmospheric monitoring instruments on the roof of the PEARL Ridge Lab during the 2014 sunrise campaign.
The return of sunlight after a long absence generates significant changes in the atmosphere. Ozone depletion chemistry, for example, is acutely impacted. A former colleague of mine wrote a blog about it here.
I made a few plots to show how big the sunlight shift is in high Arctic, with a few other locations included for comparison. This change in light has profound impacts on the environment, animals and plants, and people.
In Toronto (43°N), the amount of sunlight in a day stretches from 9 hours in mid-winter to over 15 hours in mid-June.
Sunlight hours each day in Toronto
The size of the seasonal change in sunlight depends on latitude. If you go south from Toronto, there’s less change over the course of the year. In the Caribbean, for example, a hypothetical province called Saskatchewarm would have relatively stable sunlight throughout the year:
Sunlight hours each day in the hypothetical “Saskatchewarm” in the Caribbean
Yellowknife, Northwest Territories (63°N) is much farther north than most Canadians venture. I recommend visiting it: there is fantastic art and culture to see. And it’s a good place to see Aurora Borealis. Since it’s 2000 km north of Toronto, it experiences a much larger swing in seasonal sunlight. It’s quite a big change: days in Yellowknife range from 5 hours in mid-winter to 20 hours mid-summer.
Sunlight hours each day in Yellowknife (2000 km north of Toronto)
From the North/South point of view, Yellowknife is roughly equal distances between the southernmost and the northernmost parts of Canada. The Canadian Arctic is a vast region. Let’s head another 2000 km north to look at daylight in the extreme case of Eureka.
Arctic landscape – Ellesmere Island
Eureka is a high Arctic research site at 80°N, on Ellesmere Island. The daylight hours plot is oddly shaped compared to southern sites. For most of the year, daylight doesn’t change day-to-day: it’s either totally dark or light.
Sunlight hours each day in Eureka
The transition between total darkness and never ending day takes only 2 months. This morning, the Eureka sunrise occurred at a rather convenient 10 am. It’ll set mid-afternoon. In a week, sunrise will occur more than an hour earlier, and sunset an hour later.
Rapid change in high Arctic sunlight
Sunrise at Eureka, Nunavut from the road to PEARL
Why does this happen?
This happens because the Earth’s axis tilts the Polar Regions completely away from the Sun, and into complete darkness in winter, and tilts towards the Sun for part of the summer. During summer in the Arctic, the Sun moves in a circle across the sky once per day, never setting.
Over the course of the year in the Polar Regions, the Earth’s axial tilt creates Polar Night during winter and the Midnight Sun during summer. Credit: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Arctic_Circle#Midnight_sun_and_polar_night
If we combine the plots for all three sites, a couple of interesting dates pop out:
Sunlight at Eureka, Yellowknife, and Toronto
Here’s a fun trivia question to ask friends and family: on what day of the year do all places on the planet have the same length of a day?
The length of a day is equal everywhere on the planet two days a year.** These are the intersection points between the sunlight hours at Toronto, Yellowknife, and Eureka. If I added other cities, they would also intersect at those points. These special dates, March 20 and September 23, are when the Earth is facing the sun upright with no relative tilt. Day and night are both 12-hours long. (Another trivia question could be on what day are day and night the same length.) They’re called the equinoxes.
Also noticeable on the plot is that the length of the day is maximum mid-summer (June 21) and minimum in winter (December 21). These dates are the solstices, when the tilt of the Earth is either fully towards or away from the Sun.
I hope this puts the changing daylight hours you experience in a new light.
Enjoy!
Sunset over Mississauga, viewed from downtown Toronto
** atmospheric refraction can slightly impact the equality of the daytime/nighttime on the day of the equinoxes.
Acknowledgements:
Thank you to the python community, which has developed and maintained the packages I use to make nice plots, i.e. matplotlib, numpy, pandas, and calculate the sunrise/sunset, i.e. ephem, pytz.
A month ago I was a story teller at a Science Literacy Week event in Toronto called Story Collider. My story was about the excitement of travelling to the high Arctic for fieldwork the first time, only to find out during the first week that the government was cutting its funding. This prompted me down a path of science advocacy. This script aims to share some of my feelings on the experiences.
Story Collider was different from the other public speaking I’ve done. There was no one else on stage. There was nothing else on stage – no slides, no notes. Just me and a mic. The simplicity of this arrangement helped create a personal connection with the audience.
(Nice blog entry by science writer Mirjam Guesgen summarizing the event here.)
In this post I’ve added a few photos to illustrate what was in my head at the time. At some point, the audio recording of the event will be released and I’ll add a link.
Here we go…
Dan Weaver telling his story of fieldwork and science advocacy at Story Collider in Toronto (photo credit: Ally Chadwick, @JustMyFreckles)
Flying across the Canadian Arctic is an exhilarating experience.
It’s a full day’s journey. Canada’s Arctic is huge. The landscapes are stunning; there are mountains and fjords, waterways and sea ice (for the moment anyway).
View from the plane to Eureka
I do the trip when it’s the end of Polar Night, when light is returning after months of continuous darkness. In a small charter plane, the ride is loud and bumpy. There is no bathroom. With lots of scientific equipment along for the ride and everyone wearing massive parkas, space is limited. Every pound of weight is planned and verified. Weather can be difficult.
Inside the plane to Eureka (photo credit: Dan Weaver)
I remember the time the landing gear wheels got stuck – likely due to ice – and the landing in Resolute Bay (along the northwestern passages) was… abrupt. Another time, there were high winds. I remember trying to enjoy the landscape growing ever-closer out the window as the plane approached a runway at a steep angle – only levelling out at the last minute. It was a relief to land.
The effort is worth it. When I finally arrive in the middle of Ellesmere Island’s polar desert, it takes a half hour drive, down a desolate Arctic dirt road, to reach the Polar Environment Atmospheric Research Laboratory, or PEARL.
Remote Arctic road to the PEARL Ridge Lab (photo credit: Dan Weaver)
It’s further north than the northern lights, Inuit, and all Canadian settlements except the Alert military base. I have done the journey many times to do fieldwork.
Where is PEARL (Dan Weaver/Google Maps)
I’m an atmospheric physicist.
When everything is working well, I love going for hikes around the lab. Our parkas and snow pants mostly protect us from temperatures as low as -50ºC, but after a while your eyelashes end up freezing together. (The important thing is not to pull the ice off – melt it gently with your hands.)
Dan after a nighttime hike near Eureka (photo credit: Dan Weaver/Paul Loewen)
If you can keep your eyelashes from freezing, it’s also awesome to see the wildlife. Arctic bunnies and foxes. (A few more photos here.) But sometimes, cables get chewed by curious Arctic wolves. So that’s a challenge, too.
Arctic Hare near PEARL (photo credit: Dan Weaver)
Whether you’re a grad student or tenured professor, you’ll find yourself shovelling snow when the truck gets stuck in a snowdrift. I’ve shovelled snow next to the best in my field.
Shovelling snow between Eureka and the PEARL Ridge Lab (photo credit: Dan Weaver)
Without PEARL, scientists would have a big question mark across a significant part of the Arctic.
PEARL Ridge Lab (photo credit: Dan Weaver)
When I first joined the team, I was proud to be part of big, planet-wide endeavours aimed at understanding our changing world.
Installing instruments on the roof of the PEARL Ridge Lab at the start of the campaign (photo credit: Dan Weaver)
My first week at PEARL, in February 2012, was a whirlwind of activity. The cold was extreme, but I was thrilled. Maybe even moreso because of it. (I mean, I grew up in Ottawa, so I was ready for the Arctic, right??)
The Polar Vortex was overhead. The sawtooth mountain range carved out a jagged horizon to the east. A Canadian satellite mission flew overhead regularly; working in combination with PEARL instruments to observe the changing atmosphere. When I first arrived, the sun didn’t rise until 11 a.m. With each day, it rose a little bit earlier. After a month of being there, the sun set late into the evening.
Distant sawtooth mountains, viewed from the roof of the PEARL Ridge Lab (photo credit: Dan Weaver)
When summer arrives, the sun doesn’t set at all.
sunset from the PEARL Ridge Lab (photo credit: Dan Weaver)
….. But there was darkness on the horizon ….
A photo I’d taken of the lab and surrounding landscape during one of my very first days on the campaign made the front page of a major newspaper. I was excited but also heartbroken. The story was not about the tremendous science we were doing, but that it was all coming to an unexpected and sudden end. The government had decided to end funding for atmospheric and climate research. We would finish the campaign, and then the lab would be left in hibernation.
Le Devoir’s coverage of the 2012 PEARL funding crisis
A few weeks later, the last day of the campaign arrived. I made the most of it and enjoyed the view from the PEARL roof. I didn’t know if I’d ever return.
View from the PEARL Ridge Lab of Slidre Fiord (photo credit: Dan Weaver)
When I got back to Toronto, I realized PEARL’s closure was one story within a much larger one. Canada seemed to be dismantling its research capacity, with environmental work taking the biggest hit. The Experimental Lakes Area was closing, the census was cancelled, science libraries were being shut. Scientists in the federal government were fired by the thousands and those remaining were muzzled.
My perspective on the situation expanded beyond the PEARL facility, beyond the Arctic, and beyond science. Into politics. I started a #SavePEARL campaign.
Hmmm, I didn’t expect to get involved in politics when I decided to do a physics Ph.D… it’s not what I signed up for, but it was what was needed.
I wanted Canadians to understand what was being lost, and why it was important. I wanted there to be a public outcry to Save PEARL, and to save Canadian science.
Fast-forward a few years
I find myself marching down the streets of downtown Toronto, with a lab coat on and bullhorn in my hand. Hundreds of people march behind me.
I’m feeling exhilarated again. This time, not for doing science, but for rallying people to support it politically. Today, it still amazes me this was necessary at all.
I joined Canada’s leading group of science activists, who’d formed a new organization called Evidence for Democracy to advocate for science. There were marches and protests across Canada, calling on the government to fund science. It was a scene that would be repeated again on a global scale with the March for Science, which I also helped lead with a lab coat on and a bullhorn in my hand. This time, there are thousands of people behind me.
Dan kicks off the Toronto March for Science (photo credit: Paul Martin)
I learned that when Canadians speak loudly enough, politicians listen.
PEARL was eventually saved by new funding. There was a big gap in valuable long-term datasets that could never be recovered – the damage was done, but at least the work could begin again.
Walking to the PEARL Ridge Lab (photo credit: Dan Weaver)
I returned to PEARL each winter for fieldwork, and operated instruments remotely during the rest of the year. I upgraded instrumentation, tested new measurement techniques, and have been using PEARL measurements to validate new satellite data. Busy filling in those question marks with data.
Dan adjusting beamsplitter door of the PEARL 125HR spectrometer (photo credit: Dan Weaver / Paul Loewen)
When the 2015 federal election arrived, I was pleased to see the winning party had lots of promises on science. I thought this time would be different. My years of campaigning for science were finally paying off.
Maybe Canadian research would be on firmer footing now.
Today, I’ve got what I need: cool photos, amazing memories, and a soon-to-be-finished Ph.D. But I know Canada still needs PEARL, if we’re to understand the Arctic and our atmosphere. Our international partners still need PEARL, so we can together fill in those many question marks about how our world is changing.
Dan meets Trudeau in Iqaluit and discusses need for long-term science funding. I tried!
I expected the new government would expand funding for atmospheric and climate science, but it didn’t. The only program supporting this type of work was ended. There have been no promises of funding in the future. I asked Trudeau himself when we, quite by chance, were both in Iqaluit several months ago. He said he’d talk to the Minister of Science. Nothing came of it.
How many times will I have to put on a labcoat, and instead of walking into a lab, walk into the street to march for science?
Science only happens when we decide to support it.
Will you?
** Update: temporary short-term ‘bridge’ funding has been announced that ensure PEARL won’t close immediately. (CBC North story.). But it isn’t a long-term solution. It simply kicks the can down the road. (My thoughts here.) This script is as relevant as ever. Will I march for science again in 2019 to call on the government to fund PEARL? I hope it won’t be necessary.
