A short note, today, on something that struck me while out in the east-central Nevada project area for work: Remote fieldwork = contingency planning. That’s really all there is to it. Take my latest trip this week, for example. In our project area, we’re really off the grid. What we call a road can at times barely qualify as a four-wheel drive trail, and most wouldn’t attempt some of our routes with a helicopter, much less a truck:
Because we’re so far from people or supplies, even more than on other projects, priority one is getting the data, plain and simple. It’s such a high priority not only because data is valuable from a scientific perspective, but largely because it’s very expensive to obtain when you consider the cost of our time (four of us, two per vehicle), vehicle wear-and-tear, hotel rooms for the week, etc. All of that expense is for nothing if we don’t get to our sites for the opportunity to make our measurements, download data from the instruments we have installed, and perform much-needed maintenance.
So, we push the envelope – that’s what we’re paid for. It’s rough enough to reach our measurement sites on a good day with dry roads, and in winter time it takes even more finesse. Weighing against pushing too hard, however, is the fact that the only thing more expensive than not getting the data is if you break a truck trying. Then you’ve not only incurred the expense of lost time, (which equals lost data,) and vehicle and/or equipment repair, but now you’re paying for whoever has to come to bail you out. If it’s the other team, then they’re not getting data, either.
Bearing all of this in mind, the punchline is that when we’re out there, we need to go for it. But, we also need to have thought out our contingencies ahead of time. If you get in trouble, help is hours away – assuming you can get word out that you need it. You need to make sure you have what you need to tackle the unexpected. Sometimes this amounts to little more than an extra shovel or ice-pick, (which are surprisingly versatile), and some ol’-fashioned grit and determination. Experience to know what to expect helps, but imagination is also really handy when you get a curve ball from Mother Nature.
That’s all. Knowing how to dance around the line between being gung-ho and being foolhardy really means knowing your capabilities and knowing how to sense when you’ve gotten yourself in farther than you can get yourself out.
That’s something I’m glad to have experienced firsthand and something I feel (and hope NASA will as well) is absolutely necessary for anyone contemplating leaving boot tracks off-world.