Au Revoir and Until Next Time, my Fellow PVLers

 Dr. Charissa Campbell, at York University's fall convocation with a member of the PVL class of 2050.

by Dr. Charissa Campbell

Well, after many years with the PVL team where I completed both my MSc and PhD, it is time to say goodbye. I just finished my walk across the stage at convocation in mid-October. Even though I may not be there in-person any longer, I don’t feel like my time is fully done with the PVL crew as I’ve made amazing friendships and collaborations. I’ve learned a lot about myself during these times and I am grateful for the opportunity to pursue my degrees with the group and how that work granted me my dream job where I live now, Maryland, USA. I’ve been fortunate enough to land a postdoctoral research position at the NASA Goddard Space Flight Centre continuing work on the Martian atmosphere. But here, I am looking at a unique type of dust storm rather than the clouds I studied at York.

 

Recently I was asked about my favourite memory with the PVL group and to be honest there were just too many to pick one. My work with the Curiosity team helping to manage environmental operations was high on the list (see: So Long and Thanks for All the Clouds)  but so was developing an outreach event for the Ontario Science Centre (see: The Rover Exploration Challenge). All the travel I got to do to places like Geneva, Switzerland; Paris, France amid others was where the real networking happened so I could feel like a true Martian with other scientists while also practicing my public speaking skills. I also got the amazing opportunity to visit the Canadian Light Source in Saskatoon Saskatchewan and not only do lab experiments at this amazing facility, but got to brave the -40 C weather that I grew up with and do not miss (see: The Continuing Adventures At the Canadian Light Source). I managed to use all this traveling to complete an item on my bucket list; visiting every Canadian province. I completed this when my colleague, Grace, and I traveled to Newfoundland to complete field experiments for the MAPLE instrument (see: There and Back Again, A MAPLE Tale ). Lastly, my time working on an internship at the Canadian Space Agency was also a big highlight and a dream of mine that I am still in shock in came true (see: Completing an Internship at the Canadian Space Agency).  I could go on and on about the amazing experiments and experiences I’ve had with this group. I’ve had an amazing 20s and now I am ready for my 30s and my career.

 

Even though I walked the stage in mid-October for my PhD, I actually left Toronto for Maryland back in November 2023. I was able to complete my dissertation revisions while also doing work here at NASA Goddard so that I could ensure a good salary for my family and a new opportunity for them to explore life here in the USA. My son is now in Pre-K in a wonderful school (oh how the time flies by!) in the Annapolis Maryland area and we’ve also gotten lucky at being able to afford a wonderful house with a big backyard with lots of birds and trees. Some of my best work here in Maryland is sitting outside in the backyard with my laptop and enjoying the fresh air. The climate here in Maryland is a lot warmer than what I grew up with in Edmonton, Alberta but I am grateful for experiencing the weather of Ontario to prep me for what we are experiencing here in Maryland. From May till August temperatures were hot and humid like a swamp. However, now in October/November it is very mild with wonderful colours in the tree for Autumn. Last winter was quite mild in comparison to Canadian winters, which felt like a nice change. The one tidbit about Maryland winters that made me laugh is that elementary kids don’t have recess when the temperatures go below 0 degrees Celsius. That is basically all of Canada’s winters, especially where I grew up in Edmonton, so Arthur has gotten lucky! My year here in Maryland has been great and I am hoping to turn it into our long-term home so that I can find some stability for my son and our family while exploring my career.

 

I feel like I've come a long way in not only being a scientist, but as a person and I’ve learned a lot of lessons and knowledge that I will take with me into the future, all thanks to my time with PVL. Luckily, I am able to keep my postdoctoral position for a longer term if I can keep putting through proposals to convince scientific committees to fund my salary to do research. It can be a bit daunting to have to constantly ask for funding for work but at the same time it allows me to be an individual scientist and try proposing my own ideas. Through learning how to develop experiments, instruments, writing papers, or mentoring others I feel very prepared after my time with PVL to become a true scientist here at NASA Goddard.

 

Once again, I want to thank the PVL crew (past and present) for the amazing memories and our leader John Moores for creating the opportunities for us so that we can learn and thrive in our individual scientific way. Toronto has been a unique experience for me after having grown up on the prairies in a smaller city, but I am glad I was able to conquer Toronto and the horrendous traffic. I wish everyone the best at the PVL team and I’m sure I will see y’all at the next conference where I will accidentally hang out with you as I feel like I will always be a PVLer.

Exploring the Unknown: My First Steps into Planetary Science Research at the PVL

Every summer, we host undergraduates in the lab at the PVL and during the year we bring in volunteers to experience what professional research looks like. Today Ella, one of those undergrads, tells the story of their research journey so far!

by Ruella Ordinaria

Last summer, one of York’s monthly email updates featured an article on Dr. Haley Sapers’ expedition to Nunavut to test Mars rover simulations. The words, ‘astrobiology’ and ‘Mars’ immediately caught my attention. Seeing that Dr Sapers was part of the Planetary Volatiles Lab (PVL), I emailed Dr. Moores for potential opportunities to contribute to his lab. I exchanged an exciting conversation with Dr. John Moores and in the fall, I was assigned to help a PhD student, Grace Bischof, with her research on developing a Mars Microbial Survival (MMS) model. Fast forward, I completed eight months as an undergraduate volunteer at PVL and this summer, I received the NSERC USRA from NSERC and the Lassonde School of Engineering. 

Now, what’s the actual science I’m working on, you may ask? The MMS Model estimates the bioburden reduction on Mars spacecraft during the cruise phase and on the surface. The MMS model calculates the quantity of terrestrial microorganisms remaining on a spacecraft's surface as it is exposed to the effects of the most deleterious space conditions. These include high vacuum, extreme temperatures, solar UV radiation, and ionizing radiation such as solar wind particles (SWPs). This is important because when we send spacecraft to celestial bodies like Mars, we want to prevent forward contamination as it can impact future exploration of extra-terrestrial life on Mars.

My enriching, fulfilling experience while doing research at the PVL, along with the challenges that came with it, has allowed me to grow both academically and professionally. The first challenge I faced was my limited background in space and planetary science. When I joined the PVL, I was entering my second year as a Biochemistry major and I barely knew anything about biochemistry, let alone planetary science. Although I still struggle with this knowledge gap, it has become easier to address by learning through literature searches. In addition, I also struggled significantly with programming. Grace’s project, the MMS Model, uses Python for calculations and graphing. While I had previous experience with HTML / CSS and Python through hackathons and self-learning, I had never worked with numerical modeling or data processing before. Familiarizing myself with these concepts was a challenge, and I essentially had to learn from scratch—from graphing to using various Python libraries for modeling. Google and Stack Overflow became my go-to resources. Fortunately, I am surrounded by passionate Mars experts with many years of research experience who are always willing to answer my questions.

Not only did I learn about all the exciting things about microbial survival, Mars, clouds, and the atmosphere, but I’ve also developed many technical and soft skills such as coding, writing, data collection, collaboration, problem-solving, and critical thinking, just to name a few. This invaluable knowledge and skill are something that I would have never formally gained from my degree alone. Engaging in research early on in my academic career has also allowed me to apply the knowledge I’ve learned in the classroom to real, practical research. My interactions with lab members have given me insight into the workload, the highs and lows, and the overall culture in academia, which has helped clarify my career goals and deepened my passion for planetary science and research.

Most importantly, I learned that research is not instantaneous – it is a journey composed of both productive and unproductive days. I learned that some days you might read 10 papers, write pages of words, and run many lines of code, while on other days, you might spend hours just sitting, thinking, writing then scratching and writing again. Although there have been times when I felt unmotivated, I still look forward to coming to the office every day with the same excitement I had when I first visited Dr. Moores’ office.

And of course, one of the best parts about doing research is the people! My interest in research comes from my aspiration to be part of a community that shares a profound passion for exploring the intricacies of the world and a dedication to immersing themselves in their questions – I found that community in the PVL. Some of my favourite memories are getting last place during bowling, dilly-dallying at Toronto Island, and eating lunch at the Petrie courtyard under the legendary Newton tree (manifesting a Nature paper!). I owe all of my positive research experience to my role models – Grace, Dr. Moores, and all the PVL members. Their support has been incredibly helpful in navigating my research challenges and has kept me curious about the world.

So, what’s next? Tomorrow, the next day, and throughout the rest of the school year, I’ll be heading to the Petrie building to continue my exciting planetary science research! Stay tuned ;)!

When the Dust has Settled: A PhD Research Update

Just another dusty day on Mars! This week's PVL blogpost discusses what we can learn about the atmosphere of Mars from images like this one.

 by Grace Bischof

In 2021, I gave a research update about the project I was working on for my MSc involving modelling water-ice cloud thermal emissions at the Phoenix landing site. At that time, I was just shy of my one-year anniversary at PVL. Now nearly two years into my PhD, and only a few short months away from my 4-year PVL anniversary, I figured it was time to give another research update. 

Over the last couple of years, I have moved away from the Martian arctic where Phoenix operated down to the equatorial region of Mars, where the Curiosity Rover is exploring Gale Crater. To shake things up further, instead of studying water-ice clouds like at the Phoenix landing site, I switched gears and am now focussing on the temporal and spatial variability of dust in Gale Crater.

Now, why is it important to constrain the behaviour of dust on Mars? Dust is ubiquitous in the atmosphere of Mars and is largely responsible for giving Mars its nickname of “the Red Planet”. Dust particles are suspended in the atmosphere at all times of year and at all locations on Mars, though the specific amount of dust in the atmosphere varies on a repeatable, yearly cycle. The thermal composition of the atmosphere is strongly driven by radiative interactions with airborne dust – in fact, before including dust in their calculations, scientists were unable to reproduce temperatures seen on Mars because they were missing a vital component of Mars’ heat budget.  

To put the importance of studying dust into a broader perspective, we can imagine a human-led mission to Mars attempting to land on the surface. One of the most challenging aspects of landing spacecraft on the surface of Mars is navigating the spacecraft through the atmosphere, where uncertainties in the thermal structure and turbulence pose a threat to spacecraft reaching the surface.  Additionally, planet-encircling dust storms, which are still not well understood, can prevent landings. Once landed, statically charged dust can coat electronics, as well as decrease the efficiency of solar panels by reducing sunlight. With all these hazards, having a strong understanding of the behaviour of dust is not just important for understanding the climate and meteorology of the planet, but it is also crucial for humans who will one day land on the surface.

So, back to my research. While my work will not solve every problem posed to human-led missions, this work helps to characterize the behaviour of dust in Gale Crater, which aids in better understanding the dust cycle as a whole. For this project, I have been using Navcam images taken by the Curiosity rover. These images are single-framed, north-pointing images that capture the sky, the ground, and Gale’s northern crater rim. By analyzing the radiances of each of the three sections, we can calculate the amount of dust in the air between the rover and the crater rim, also known as the optical depth. By dividing the optical depth by the distance to the crater (since the distance changes after each time the rover drives), we get a value of dust extinction in the crater along a line-of-sight (LOS).

The LOS extinction has been previously studied by prior members of PVL, Casey Moore and Christina Smith, through sol 2500 of the mission. I have since updated the record of the LOS extinction to sol 3663, which is through the end of Mars Year 37. In contrast to previous LOS studies, we used images captured throughout the entire day to discover a diurnal cycle in the dust extinction at Gale. In the past, only images taken between 10 am and 2 pm were used because the analytical method to calculate the extinction made assumptions that did not hold outside of that timeframe. In my work, we updated our analysis method to factor in the location of the sun in the sky throughout the day, allowing us to use all of the images which contain the ground, the crater rim and the sky (typically captured between 6 am and 6 pm).

The diurnal trend in the LOS extinction shows that the amount of dust in Gale Crater changes throughout the day. The dustiness is lower in the morning and increases into the midday. At noon, the dustiness reaches a maximum, and then decreases into the evening. The diurnal variation also includes a seasonal component – that is, in the winter, the change over the day is smaller than in the summer, when there is a large difference in dust loading between morning/evening and noon. Diurnal and seasonal trends in surface dust-lifting caused by wind-stress and convective vortices aligns with what is seen in the LOS extinction, suggesting that much of the change in dust loading in Gale Crater is due to dust-lifting from the surface.

I wrote up these findings and submitted to a journal. Currently that manuscript is in the review process. I presented this work at LPSC in March and will soon be presenting it at the 10th International Conference on Mars in Pasadena in July. In addition to the pattern in dust extinction, there are a couple other interesting things that we found and we will have things to say regarding geographic variability in the dust extinction. But I don’t want to give too many spoilers, so you can read all about it once the paper is published, or come to my talk in Pasadena!

De-mystifying Martian Clouds

 Two of the lab's PhD students have just published analysis on how Martian clouds interact with sunlight in companion papers over in the Planetary Science Journal! The results represent work on thousands of images of the sky taken by the Curiosity Rover over more than ten (Earth) years and describe the thickness of the clouds we saw and give information on the crystals that make up those clouds. How can you use pictures of clouds to figure out what they are like on the scale of less than a thousandth of a cm? Read on to learn more!

by Alex Innanen & Conor Hayes

Here at PVL, we’re a big fan of Martian clouds. For over eleven (Earth) years, we’ve tasked our favourite PVL-er, the Mars Science Laboratory (MSL) Curiosity rover, with staring up at the sky for a handful of minutes every few sols to capture the clouds drifting over its home in Gale Crater. Recently, we had two papers accepted that discuss some of these cloud observations. Our papers are very similar – both look at how light interacts with water-ice clouds during the same time of year (the Aphelion Cloud Belt, or ACB, season) using the same cameras (Curiosity’s Navigation Cameras, or Navcams). Between our papers we have 33 figures and over 15 000 words. Reading through that much material can be a daunting proposition! So, presented below for the cloud-curious is a brief and hopefully engaging summary.

Over the years, clouds have made frequent appearances on this blog, but as a quick refresher, yes, there are clouds on Mars! Some are made of dust, some are made of carbon dioxide, and some are made of water-ice. The water-ice ones are the ones we’re interested in, particularly those that form as part of the ACB. Every year, when Mars approaches its furthest point from the sun, it sees an increase in water-ice cloud formation around the equator. Gale Crater, where Curiosity lives, is just five degrees south of the equator, so it sees the southern edge of this belt of clouds. This is really great for those of us on the environmental science team – we get an opportunity every year to study these clouds and look for patterns in their behaviour from year-to-year. 

ACB clouds above Gale crater tend to be fairly tenuous – think of those wispy cirrus clouds you might see on Earth (shown above). Like cirrus clouds, they’re made of tiny crystals of water ice. (On Earth we don’t tend to specify what kind of ice, but on Mars the atmosphere can be cold enough for both water and carbon dioxide to freeze, so it’s helpful to differentiate between the two.) These crystals form when water vapour in the atmosphere condenses on some kind of nucleus – usually dust particles.

On Earth, atmospheric water vapour tends to freeze into a certain set of shapes depending on the specific conditions present when the ice crystals are forming.  These shapes have been catalogued thanks to the fact that we can actually fly into and directly sample our clouds taking close-up pictures of the ice crystals. While it may be possible that the ice crystals in Martian clouds have similar shapes to those in terrestrial clouds, we unfortunately cannot (yet) directly image them like we can here on Earth. Instead, we have to rely on some physics tricks. One of these tricks is looking at how light interacts with the clouds. These light interactions can produce a myriad of cool optical effects, but more importantly can give us information about the size and shape of these particles. This information is captured by what’s called a ‘phase function’. The phase function is a mathematical description of how much light is scattered by some particle at different angles from 0 to 180°, visually represented by a curve. The exact shape of that curve depends on the shape and size of the ice crystals in the clouds, so we can attempt to determine the nature of martian ice crystals by comparing our phase function measurements to those that have been made for ice crystals on Earth.

To see how light is scattered by the clouds across different angles, former PVL member Brittney Cooper came up with the phase function sky survey: Curiosity takes a series of 9 small cloud movies looking in different directions all around the rover, like you can see in the gif below.

From this we get information about how sunlight is scattered by the clouds at different locations around the rover and put together an average phase function for the clouds we observe throughout the cloudy season at Gale Crater. We’ve been doing this observation through four Mars years so far, which means that we can compare different Mars years to see if there’s any change in the phase function. The ACB is a very stable feature – it doesn’t change much from year to year. Likewise, the average phase function at Gale doesn’t change much either. Nor does it show much difference between morning and afternoon observations. So, what does that tell us? Mostly it’s just that – the phase function doesn’t change much from year to year, or from morning to afternoon. But this could also suggest that the water-ice crystals that make up the clouds aren’t changing.

Which brings us back to the question of what those crystals look like. This problem has been tackled a number of ways in the past, often by comparing an observed phase function with one for a known ice crystal shape. Brittney took this approach, as did Alex in their Master’s work. However, we found that none of the modeled ice crystal shapes fit our curves very well. This could be for a couple reasons – the particles Brittney looked at were much bigger than the water-ice particles that we tend to see on Mars. It’s also likely that the water-ice crystals are not forming the same shapes they do on earth.

In the phase function paper, instead of forging along directly comparing our curves to known water-ice crystal shapes, we took a slightly different approach. It turns out you can make a simple approximation of a phase function mathematically using what’s called a Henyey-Greenstein (or HG) function. There are two values that go into making an HG function – the creatively named ‘b’ and ‘c’.  Helpfully for our purposes, the b and c values also give information about the particle shape. If we look at the b and c values we see in the Gale Crater phase functions, they’re close to b and c values for rough, irregularly shaped particles – not those relatively simpler geometries we see in Earth clouds. It’s not as exciting as actually having a picture of what a martian water-ice crystal looks like, but it is still a solid starting point.

The phase function is important not just because it gives us information about the shapes and sizes of the ice crystals in the clouds, but also because it is a critical input into various models. These include Martian global climate models (GCMs), which must include the effects of clouds on the amount of light that is transmitted through the atmosphere. It is also important for the topic of our second paper: the opacity of the ACB.

A cloud’s opacity basically describes how thick it is. An opacity (or “tau”) of zero means that there are no clouds and all light passes through.  As tau increases, more and more light is blocked, either through absorption or reflection into new directions (also called elastic scattering). In theory, tau can be arbitrarily high, but at a certain point so much light is blocked that it can barely be measured. During the Mars Year 34 global dust storm in 2018, Curiosity measured a tau as high as 8.5, meaning that about 99.98% of the Sun’s light was blocked by atmospheric dust (hence why the solar-powered Opportunity rover did not survive the storm).

We use a fairly simple model to determine the opacity of water-ice clouds. The math is not particularly exciting, but in essence it takes the amount of sunlight reaching Mars at the top of its atmosphere and determines how much “stuff” there has to be between the top of the atmosphere and the ground to explain the amount of light that Curiosity measures. The phase function is important here because it tells us how much of that light is being indirectly scattered towards the rover by the clouds.

The opacity of ACB clouds has been the topic of a number of PVL papers before this one, most recently by former member Jake Kloos in 2018. That paper covered the first two Mars Years of measurements. When we began writing this paper, we had just passed five Mars Years at Gale, so we were very much due for an update! We had initially hoped that this would be a fairly straightforward paper to put together. Because our model had already been well-established in our previous papers, we thought it would just be a matter of running the new data through the old model. Unfortunately, once we did so, the results pretty obviously made no sense. As previously noted, the ACB doesn’t change much from one year to the next, so we’d expect that the opacities would stay pretty much the same from year-to-year. Instead, the opacities output by our model for the new data were all over the place! They were neither consistent with each other nor with the old data, so we had to go hunting for a reason why.

It didn’t take much digging to find the cause. When we plotted the opacities as a function of each measurement’s distance from the Sun on the sky, there was a sharp increase as we got closer to the Sun. There’s no physical reason why clouds near the Sun should be thicker than those elsewhere, so our model was clearly breaking down in this area. The culprit, as it turned out, was the phase function. All of our previous opacity papers had assumed that the phase function was flat, taking on a single value of 1/15 at all angles. The results from the phase function sky survey have shown that this is very much not the case near the Sun, where the value of the phase function rapidly increases.

By assuming that the cloud opacities shouldn’t change very much over the ACB season, we were able to derive another phase function for ACB clouds, one that is reasonably similar to the one found using the phase function sky survey (which is good since we're all looking at the same clouds using the same cameras on the same rover!). After adding this new phase function into our opacity model, we were finally able to take a proper look at how ACB opacities have changed over five Mars Years.

In short, much like the phase function itself, they don’t really change at all, which makes sense given the consistency of the ACB between years. Notably, these new results invalidated one of the findings of Jake’s 2018 paper: that ACB clouds in the morning tend to be thicker than those in the afternoon. Although thicker clouds do appear more frequently in the morning in our new data, it doesn’t seem that this is the case generally. In fact, we found that observations in the morning tend to be taken closer to the Sun than those in the afternoon, which was artificially increasing their opacity values when using a flat phase function. Why didn't Jake include this in his paper? Without access to as much data as we have now, he simply didn't know that martian clouds behaved this way! (no one did) Therefore, while it can feel a little awkward calling out a former labmate’s paper as incomplete, science ultimately moves forward through incremental methodological improvements.

Just for fun, we also compared our opacity measurements with those taken by two cameras orbiting Mars: the MARs Colour Imager (MARCI) onboard the Mars Reconnaissance Orbiter (MRO), and the Emirates Exploration Imager (EXI) onboard the Emirates Mars Mission (EMM) Hope probe. Our methods did feel a little cyclical (assume the opacities don’t change much to derive a phase function, then use that phase function to conclude that the opacities don’t change much), so if we can match our ground-based measurements with those taken from orbit, we can have more confidence in our results.

Happily, the agreement between the MSL and MARCI/EXI measurements ended up being excellent, matching almost exactly with a few differences that can generally be explained by regional dust storm events that aren’t accounted for in the orbital data’s models. Thus, we can confidently say that our results reflect reality and probably aren’t a consequence of any assumptions that we made.

And don't forget to check out the papers themselves, available open-access at

Hayes et al. (2024)
Five Mars Years of Cloud Observations at Gale Crater: Opacities, Variability, and Ice Crystal Habits
&
Innanen et al. (2024)
Three Years of ACB Phase Function Observations from the Mars Science Laboratory: Interannual and Diurnal Variability and Constraints on Ice Crystal Habit

The Crunch

There comes a point when working on any large project when you can run into roadblocks or motivation can flag. This is almost guaranteed with something as long and as challenging as a PhD. Indeed, statistics suggest that in Canada about a quarter of science and engineering PhD students do not complete their degrees within 9 years (as of 2013). Sometimes, the greatest challenge can arise just before the end in "The Crunch" to finish, as Dr. Kevin Axelrod, our new Postdoctoral Fellow attests in this week's very personal post below. But if you find yourself in this situation, don't loose hope!  As the saying goes, it's often darkest just before the dawn.

(Photo above courtesy of Dr. Axelrod: "The view from the roof of the main building of the Desert Research Institute.  I spent a lot of time up here over five years, all four seasons.  It’s that nice.")

by Dr. Kevin Axelrod

So, it’s been a pretty crazy 12 months.  In January of 2023 (one calendar year before this blog is being posted), I was lying on the couch for two straight weeks in my shared house in Reno, Nevada, recovering from leg surgery, high on hydrocodone, and needing my housemates to get food from the kitchen for me (thanks, Heather and Brie).  Not appearing in the lab at the Desert Research Institute for two full weeks, I still had not completed the experimentation for my second publication of my Ph.D. research at the University of Nevada at Reno.  I still did not have a set date for when I would defend my dissertation and graduate from school, and quite frankly I did not yet know where my life was going.  And, believe it or not, I had never heard of York University.  

I had spent the last year and a half worrying about where my research was headed and how it was going to help me take the next step in life after graduation (if I even graduated).  At this point, I was supposed to be in “the crunch” - the last year of a Ph.D. tenure in which a student is supposed to devote their life, body, mind, spirit, overall being, consciousness, life-force, qi, etc. to their research and nothing else.  Instead, for two weeks, I watched Clarkson’s Farm on Amazon Prime (not sponsored, by the way) while eating chocolate pudding.  Not exactly the demeanor of someone who had spent the last 4.5 years of their life in graduate school and was now supposed to be in the crunch.  Of course, I could not walk and thus could not come into lab to work on my experiments, and I struggled to write anything because most of the time, I could not even sit up.  I felt stuck – I was seriously questioning whether I could graduate in August of 2023, which was a date delayed from a previous goal of May 2023, which was a date delayed from my original goal of December 2022 that I laid out in my prospectus defense.  

This was just 12 months ago.  And now, I am writing a blog for the Planetary Volatiles Laboratory, supervised by Dr. John Moores, at YorkU in Ontario.  Back in January, I would not have guessed that I would be here now. 

So, this blog is not about how cool my Ph.D. research is, a summary of an important meeting or event, or a case study of a planetary atmosphere.  This blog is about Ph.D. students in “the crunch”, who are anxious, unsure of their future, feeling consistently unprepared or inadequate, and always being very busy while still feeling like they get nothing done.    

Hopefully, that is not the case for most Ph.D. students who read this.  Hopefully, most Ph.D. students are constantly ecstatic about their research, enjoying all the once-in-a-lifetime experiences that they had dreamed about since childhood when they first watched Bill Nye the Science Guy or Mythbusters.  That was not me, however, and I know I am not the only one.  I had been working on this one singular project (bioaerosol chemistry, and more specifically pollen chemistry) for 4.5 years, and though it came with a lot of intrigue and enjoyment, I had also made many mistakes, suffered setbacks, and was disappointed with what I viewed to be a low level of progress. As a result, I was feeling very stressed and burned out – I just wanted to finally complete it and move onto new things.

After I got to the point where I could walk again, I returned to the lab with a new motivation - to get my life together.  And that involved two tasks: finishing my research on the volatility of bioaerosol constituents in the atmosphere, and also looking past my Ph.D. and finding a place where I could continue my passion for scientific research on a new project which would allow me to expand my knowledge further.  And I ended up finding such an opportunity with the PVL via a flyer that Dr. Moores posted on the American Geophysical Union website’s career listings.  

Upon my first interview with Dr. Moores, I knew right away that I wanted to join the lab – I was completely overwhelmed when he extended the offer to join.  I accepted.  It would be an exciting change of pace - a new project on the development of a functioning methane spectrometer for the Martian atmosphere (and so far, it has been a very exciting change of pace).  But, in March 2023 when I first interviewed, in the back (and front) of my head was a lingering doubt – would I actually be able to finish my Ph.D. research in time to move to Toronto and start research at YorkU in September 2023?

One thing was for certain – the pressure was on like never before.  Pressure not just to produce manuscripts, but to start a new chapter in life.  To self-improve, if you will.  In my opinion, that was the subject of my dissertation writing, even though self-improvement is never mentioned in it.  

And, for the most part, that pressure was good for me.  It made me more focused and motivated towards my bioaerosol research.  And as my leg improved, so did the state of my dissertation.  By the end of March, I completed the experimentation for my second publication and was busy writing the manuscript for it, while simultaneously taking care of in-lab work for my third research chapter in my dissertation.  By May, I had finished the writing of the publication and was wrapping up the in-lab research.  And by July 10, I was holding my dissertation defense.

Granted, the defense was far from perfect (almost nothing ever is in academia).  The night before was my most disturbed night of “sleep” ever. The morning of, I woke up at 4:30 AM and was instantly wide awake – something that had only happened one other time in my life, which was the morning of my prospectus defense two years earlier.  I held off on coffee that morning because it would have had no effect.  My jitteriness was already at a maximum due to the nervous energy surging through me. 
I was in a state of extreme anxiety.  But, I took solace in the fact that I had given the past year, “the crunch”, my best effort – motivated by my desire to make it to my postdoctoral fellowship.  And if my best effort was not enough, then oh well.    

The defense was an absolute fever dream – I don’t even remember most of it.  But it went well, and after two and a half hours I walked out of the presentation room with the blessings of my committee.  After living in Reno for five years, I was finally going to start a new chapter in life.  Provided, of course, that I take care of a few other things before I left, such as updating some of my writing and attempting to gather some results via a secondary analysis of some of my aerosol samples because one of my previous experiments failed.

But before any of that, I had another immediate task: attending my first in-person conference as a graduate student (no thanks to you, COVID), at the International Conference for Carbonaceous Particles in the Atmosphere (ICCPA) in Berkeley, California.  After my defense, my next task was to drive for four hours (on two hours of sleep) to California.  Though I was driving at night and did not arrive at the conference hotel until 2AM, it was one of the most euphoric drives of my life.  

The next day, I finally got to enjoy an in-person conference, as a reward for passing the defense.  It was a great time – I presented a poster on my research, sat in on an absurd number of exciting platform presentation sessions, met several new people and research groups, and certainly did not skimp on the catered wine.  By all estimates, it was one of the most enjoyable excursions of my time as a graduate student.

And one month later, I stuffed all my belongings into my sedan and left Reno, driving them back to my parents’ house before jumping onto a plane two weeks later.  

I will miss Reno.  I will miss the incredible natural landscapes around Lake Tahoe.  I will miss the excitement that I had back when I first moved there in 2018 as a grad student, realizing that I was about to take part in cutting-edge research for the first time.  And I will also miss a lot of the time I spent in lab over those 5 years.  I am forever grateful that I had a great advisor, a great program director, and great co-researchers and classmates, without all of whom I would not have graduated.  I will forever cherish the research topics that I was able to take part in while at the Desert Research Institute.  But there were certainly things that I will not miss: the many times that I made mistakes in my experimentation, the many re-do’s that needed to be done, the eternal frustration of trial and error, followed by finally obtaining a set of results that I thought were interesting enough to be published (and then writing about them for several months), only to have the manuscript murdered by some very truculent reviewers.  This cycle of frustration made it feel like I was stagnating – that I was not moving forward in research or in life.  It made bioaerosol research, a topic that I intrinsically enjoy, into something that stressed me out.  It’s the part of the scientific method that they do not show on Mythbusters.

So, to any current Ph.D. student who feels the same way right now, I would say: try to think about what you want to do after your graduation, even though it can be difficult to think about.  A visualization of your “next chapter” will get you over the hump.  Scientific research has both excitement and disappointment.  A Ph.D. may sometimes seem like it has more disappointment than excitement.  But after completion, you will feel just like the Mythbusters right after they blow something up: total ecstasy.  And that feeling will fuel my motivation for further research here at YorkU - hopefully I can keep it going for a while.    

The Center of the Universe – My Experience Interning at the Jet Propulsion Laboratory

We often encounter kids in our outreach work who can't wait to be astronauts when they grow up. Somehow this didn't have the same pull for me. Instead, I was mesmerized by the robotic spacecraft  exploring the distant reaches of the solar system. One facility came up over and over again in watching documentary after documentary on PBS about those probes: NASA's Jet Propulsion Laboratory in Pasadena, California. It was a thrill to visit while I was in graduate school. I still don't think I'm completely recovered from having a badge and a parking pass during the 90-sol prime mission of MSL while I was a postdoc!! Because of that, it's always a joy when one of our own here at PVL gets to experience this place for themselves. First there was Raymond, then Emily and, later on, Brittney. Recently, one of our PhD students, Grace Bischof (pictured above), had the opportunity to spend the winter working projects on-lab. She relates her experience below.

By Grace Bischof

In late 2020, I submitted a scientific proposal to the Technologies for Exo-Planetary Science (TEPS) program, with hopes of becoming a TEPS trainee. Upon a successful application, I was able browse through a list of TEPS collaborators with whom I could carry out a four-month long internship (assuming they accepted my inquiry to work with them). There was quite an appealing list of places to intern with – from national collaborators at Canadian universities and within industry, to international collaborators in institutions as far as Japan. There was one collaborator, however, that immediately jumped out of the page for me: Michael Mischna, who is a researcher at the Jet Propulsion Laboratory.

I had seen Michael’s name previously through a former PVL member – Brittney Cooper – who carried out an internship at JPL a couple years before I had arrived in the lab, and whose internship project with Michael inspired the bulk of my master’s thesis. Not only that, but as a member of the Mars Science Laboratory team since 2020, JPL was a place of legends to me, as JPL is the section of NASA that manages planetary robotic missions including the Curiosity rover. The idea of working there myself was something of a dream. In the summer of 2021, John reached out to Michael on my behalf to inquire if there was a place for me to carry out my internship with him, and luckily there was! Not only would I have the opportunity of working with Michael, but I would also be working with Leslie Tamppari, who had been project scientist on the Phoenix mission. 

After a year’s worth of delays due to the lingering pandemic, in January 2023, I packed two giant suitcases and flew down to Pasadena, California to start my adventure. After hopping off the plane at LAX (haha!), I was immediately greeted to views of the San Gabriel mountains, palm trees, and warm weather. I made my way to the house I was renting with four strangers, which luckily was not an internet scam, and spent the first couple of days unpacking and settling into my new home. 

 

(The first picture I took upon arrival in Pasadena. I couldn’t get over the palm trees.)

Although I had somehow found myself in LA during SoCal’s rainiest winter in a couple decades, nothing could rain on my parade that first day at JPL. Even the 5:30 am wake up call to ensure I was on-time for the first day’s onboarding activities felt exciting. I can clearly remember sitting on the LA city-bus as it approached the JPL gates and feeling awe at the opportunity ahead of me. The first day was spent filling in forms, giving my fingerprints, and taking a photo for my new JPL badge. Afterward, I met with Leslie and Michael to discuss the work I would be completing over the next few months, and then I was given a tour of the 168-acre lab by Michael. At JPL, you often need to have your walking shoes on to get from building to building.

Now, I should probably mention the actual science I did while I was at JPL before returning to the fun stuff. The plan was to work on two projects: the first was polishing some work I did in my master’s, using a radiative transfer model to determine the water-ice opacities at the Phoenix mission landing site. The second was to use the Mars Weather, Research, and Forecasting (MarsWRF) general circulation model to simulate the atmospheres of planets around stars with different stellar type, with future plans to expand this work to investigate the effect this would have on land-ocean distribution.

As science so often goes, the first project encountered many issues. A bug was found in the radiative transfer model which resulted in spending much of my time compiling and re-compiling, running and rerunning the model to determine the source of the issue. The MarsWRF work, however, went much more smoothly. I first spent a couple weeks becoming comfortable using the model. MarsWRF is a giant model, with many moving parts. I was set up with a NASA Supercomputing account so that I could run the model with relative quickness (often, this still took hours to days). Once I had the hang of using the model, I ran some cases simulating the ancient Martian environment to send to a team at Rice University who would use the inputs I provided for a Paleo-Mars lake model. Then, I got to work on the stellar-type investigation. I learned how to make changes to the source code of the model (which could be quite a task – altering several files to ensure that all the correct inputs were feeding into the correct scripts). Once I edited MarsWRF such that the user can define the temperature of the star they wish to simulate around, I ran the model for a Mars-like planet with a thin atmosphere around F-, G-, K-, and M-type stars. From this, we determined that, for the atmosphere that was set up, hotter stars will have more shortwave flux reach the surface of such a planet. This work was the first step in understanding exoplanet atmospheres around different stellar type and will eventually be applied more widely to understand the habitability of exoplanets based on star-type. Working on these projects with Leslie and Michael was such a delight, as they were incredibly supportive during this work.

Not only was the work I was doing at JPL extremely cool, but also the lab itself is one of the most incredible places to work. I was fortunate enough to have an office in the Science building (yes, there was big sign atop the front door reading Science). Although the office was very small and windowless, it got the job done, and I had two great office-mates. There was also ample seating around lab when I was craving a change of scenery. Sometimes I would work in the main cafeteria to be around the buzz of people conversing over their morning coffee, but my favourite place to work was the JPL mall. The mall is a big open area near the front of lab, which had plenty of tables set out to work or eat lunch outside in the fresh air. Working all day on the mall was how I managed to get a sunburn in February – a phenomenon I am not used to during Februarys in Canada. 

At JPL, cool things are happening all the time. In the main cleanroom, High Bay 1, they were assembling the Europa Clipper spacecraft when I was there. How amazing it was to look upon the brilliant people putting together a spacecraft that will one day be orbiting the moon of another planet so far out in the solar system. As cool as it is, this was one of the buildings I was only able to access if I brought an American with me. As a foreign national, there were several areas of lab that were off limits without an American escort – they take security very seriously at JPL.

 

The main cleanroom where the Europa Clipper Spacecraft was being assembled. If you look closely, you can see the workers in their bunny suits. Don’t be fooled by the worker at the front left of the picture – that’s a mannequin known as High Bay Bob, who is often moved around to appear to be carrying out various tasks. Currently, Europa Clipper has been removed from the cleanroom for testing, but a livestream of the cleanroom can typically be found on YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yKDA6smS9_k

One of the most memorable days for me was when I was able to visit the Mars Yard to watch the Perseverance Rover’s twin, OPTIMISM (Operational Perseverance Twin for Integration of Mechanisms and Instruments Sent to Mars) out into the yard completing some mobility testing. The Mars Yard is a big, sandy yard that is used to mimic the terrain of Mars. Here, OPTIMISM and MAGGIE (Mars Automated Giant Gizmo for Integrated Engineering – also known as Curiosity’s twin), are brought out for a multitude of testing purposes, including mobility and instrument testing, sample collection, or testing new autonomous algorithms. This day, I was also able to go into the garage to see MAGGIE, which was so incredible after working with the Curiosity rover for the past 3 years.

(Top: Outside in the Mars Yard with OPTIMISM as it completes mobility testing. Bottom: Inside the garage with MAGGIE)

Now, why is the blogpost titled, “The Center of the Universe”? Well, within the Space Flight Operations Facility on lab is the Mission Control Center. Here is where the data from the Deep Space Network antennas in Canberra (Australia), Goldstone (California), and Madrid (Spain) are managed. These giant dishes talk to the spacecraft that are currently exploring the solar system (and beyond for the Voyagers), and that communication is all funneled through the mission control room at JPL. This is also the room from which spacecraft, such as the Curiosity and Perseverance rovers, were landed on the surface of Mars. The story goes that former-JPL director, Charles Elachi, upon thinking about how all the information from the solar system comes into this room once said, “This must be the center of the universe!" There is now a big plaque in the floor in this room declaring it as the Center of the Universe. The JPL mission control center has someone within it, monitoring data around the clock to ensure there are no issues. In fact, since Southern California is so Earthquake-prone, Space Flight Operation Facility was built to be Earthquake-proof to protect the precious control center inside.

(Top: The Mission Control Center, where you can watch the DSN dishes communicating with spacecraft all over the solar system and beyond. Bottom: There is a superstition at JPL that peanuts must be passed around to ensure that launches and landings are successful, dating back to the 1960s. The lucky peanuts were eaten for Curiosity and Perseverance’s landings, among many others)

From my first day, the other interns who I met were incredibly kind and open. The JPL researchers and staff were all supportive and encouraging. I was lucky to experience only friendly and inviting people. The interns I met came to JPL from all over the world – Singapore, Australia, Italy, and Iceland, to name only a few – and were all open to having the most fulfilling experience at JPL, and in Southern California, as possible. I felt satisfied with not only the work I was doing at JPL, but also felt enriched by the experiences and memories I was making with my fellow colleagues.

Top: A hike up Echo Mountain trail which begins just north of Pasadena. This hike was organized by the Australian interns who had heard there was snow at the top of the hike. By the time we got there, one singular patch of snow about 0.25 square meters in size remained. They still made a few snowballs out of it to throw. Bottom: The view of the sunset from Joshua Tree National. My first time in the desert! We spent two nights camping in Joshua Tree, filling the days with hiking and rock-climbing (which I observed from the ground….).

The month of May came quicker than I could’ve imagined, and soon I was flying back to Toronto to continue my PhD back at York. While it was great to be back seeing my family, friends, and pets, my experience at JPL is one I will cherish forever. I feel incredibly grateful to have spent four months at such an amazing place, working with people who have such a hunger to explore what is out there in the universe. I will take the lessons I learned there with me through the rest of my degree – and hey, maybe in 2.5-years’ time when I’ve graduated with my PhD, JPL will have not seen the last of me (wink, wink, someone hire me!!).

Two Weeks in Killarney

Outreach is a key component of what we do at the PVL. So when PhD student Conor got the chance to serve as the Astronomer in Residence in Killarney Provincial Park they jumped at the opportunity.
Above: The Sun setting over the Killarney Provincial Park observatory.

by Conor Hayes

Earlier this summer, I spent two weeks at Killarney Provincial Park, located four hours north of Toronto, as part of the Astronomer in Residence (AIR) program run by the York Observatory. The AIR program is very new, having started just last year. I had considered applying last year, but ultimately decided against it given that I was very busy writing up my Master’s thesis at the time.  With that not being a concern this summer, I submitted an application to the program that was successfully approved. I had originally planned to head up to Killarney at the beginning of the summer, but that plan was foiled by me catching COVID for the second time three days before I had planned to leave. Although I felt normal by the time I was supposed to start, we decided to delay my term as AIR out of an abundance of caution.

My actual responsibilities as the AIR were not very heavy. Over the two week period, I was expected to help the park staff run six events: two public talks, two solar observing sessions, and two nighttime observing sessions. This schedule meant that I had a lot of free time to explore the park and the town of Killarney itself, which is about a 15 minute drive from the park. I got a lot of hiking in, which is something that I haven’t been able to do much of since moving to Toronto in 2020. The trails in the park were a bit more challenging than those I was used to, as they involved a lot of climbing up and down steep rock formations. The challenge was always worth it though, as I’d get stunning views of the surrounding area, including Georgian Bay and the La Cloche Mountains.

[Figure 1: Looking out over Georgian Bay from the Chikanishing Trail.]

Heading into the program, I was expecting that the public talks would be the most straightforward part of my time there, since I’ve given several in the three years that I’ve been here at York. The observing sessions were a little more intimidating because I haven’t done much visual astronomy recently and I wasn’t certain how well I’d be able to talk about the sky itself and point people around at interesting objects that they can see just by looking up. Instead, it very much ended up being the opposite.

Part of the reason for the difference between my expectations and reality may have been the fact that this was the first time (other than my Master’s defence) that I was giving talks in-person, rather than online. The mood of the audience can really make or break your confidence, and I was really challenged during my first talk (on our Curiosity cloud observation campaign) by the fact that it began at 8 PM, well after the Sun had set. This meant that I couldn’t actually see the audience at all, so it felt like I was just speaking into a void. The second talk, about the history of the search for lunar water, was almost derailed by a thunderous downpour that broke open the skies about five minutes after I started, but we gathered everyone under the roof of the amphitheatre stage, which turned it into a more intimate classroom-style presentation rather than a public talk given to a large space full of people.

The observing sessions were very different than the public talks. Obviously I did point out things on the sky like various constellations as well as Jupiter and Saturn, but they were more of an opportunity for people to ask me questions about whatever astronomy-related topics they were interested in. I had been expecting this,  but I will admit that I was a little worried that three years of focusing on a very small and specific set of subjects for my Master’s and the first year of my PhD had degraded my general astronomy knowledge. However, this didn’t seem to be the case, and the several hours I spent both weeks talking to visitors about any astronomy-related topics that they had on their minds were honestly probably the best parts of my AIR tenure.

While I did enjoy all of my interactions with the visitors and park staff, the real reason why the AIR program is hosted in Killarney is that it is a certified dark sky site, far away from any major population centres (something that you become acutely aware of when you realize that the nearest large grocery store is an hour away in Sudbury). Although I had been to some fairly dark sites (e.g. the Green Bank Observatory in West Virginia), I had never seen the night sky look like it did in Killarney. The familiar constellations, which are about all you can really see in Toronto, were drowned out by the sheer number of other stars. On several occasions, I just had to lie down on the ground and stare up at the Milky Way stretching itself across the sky. One thing that really surprised me was the number of satellites I could see during the night. In Toronto, it’s easy to see the ISS, but you’ll never really see any more than that. In Killarney, I would see one steadily marching across the sky about once every ten minutes for an hour or so after sunset.

[Figure 2: Close-ups of the Moon as seen through the Killarney 16-inch telescope, named Kchi Waasa Debaabing, Anishinaabemowin for “Seeing very far (as the eye can see).”

At night, when I wasn’t either staring up at the sky in awe or holding public observing sessions, I was engaging in astrophotography using the on-site 16-inch telescope. The weather during my time as AIR was phenomenal with only two nights clouded out, so I was out at the observatory every night, often until 2 or 3 AM. I came in with exactly zero astrophotography experience other than occasionally taking a photo with my phone’s camera through a telescope’s eyepiece. With 6+ hours of practice almost every night for two weeks (plus more than a few phone calls with Bruce Waters, the father of the AIR program), I improved quite dramatically, as can be seen below.

[Figure 3: Top row – views of Saturn and Jupiter at the start of my time in Killarney. Bottom row – Saturn and Jupiter again, now with two weeks of astrophotography practice.]

Having been back in Toronto for about a month now, there are some conveniences that I definitely missed up in Killarney, like cheap(er) groceries that I can walk to and cell service that’s better than a single bar of 3G connectivities. However, the sky here now looks depressingly bright and empty at night. If the AIR program continues into its third year, I will almost certainly be headed back to Killarney in the summer of 2024.

If you want to see more of the photos I took in Killarney, check out the AIR blog at https://www.yorku.ca/science/observatory/air/astronomer-in-residence-blog/