In 1977, a small crew of oceanographers traveled to the bottom of the
Pacific Ocean and stumbled across a brand new form of life. The
discovery was so unusual, it turned biology on its head and brought into
question much of what scientists thought they knew about where life can
form and what it needs in order to survive.
Today,
the Smithsonian Institution houses that remarkable discovery: a pale
and fleshy, 4-foot-long worm that floats in the kind of pickle jar you'd
see in your neighborhood delicatessen. It might not look like much now,
but Kristian Fauchald, the Smithsonian's curator of worms, says that in
1977, this worm had everyone scratching their heads. At up to 7 feet in
length, he says, "these are enormous beasts compared to normal worms."
And they were thriving in large numbers without any obvious source of
food or light.
"This," Fauchald says, holding up the worm, "is something absolutely unique."
An Unexpected Discovery
Kathy
Crane and Jack Corliss weren't expecting to find anything alive when
they started on their journey to explore the ocean floor. They were
looking instead to answer some basic questions about the ocean's
temperature and chemistry that science could not yet answer. "Saltiness
was a big question," Crane says. "Students used to ask their professors,
'How did the ocean get its salt?' "
Some
ocean scientists believed the answers to these questions lay in volcanic
vents that they suspected peppered the ocean floor. So they put
together an expedition in the Alvin, a tiny submarine operated by Woods
Hole Oceanographic Institute, to go down and see for themselves.
Crane
was then a 25-year-old grad student from the Scripps Institution of
Oceanography. From the Alvin's mother ship, she guided the Alvin to an
area in the eastern Pacific known as the Galapagos Rift. Corliss, a
geologist from Oregon State University, rode aboard the Alvin itself.
Kathy Crane, recalling a conversation with Woods Hole scientists after discovering the deep-sea worms
The day of the dive, Crane assumed her position
as navigator and Corliss climbed aboard the Alvin. "I slipped through
the porthole," he remembers. "It wasn't much bigger around than I was."
As
the Alvin began its descent, Corliss watched through the window as the
world around him went from blue to black to blacker than black. "We were
descending into a different world," he says. Now and again, they saw
sudden flashes of light from bioluminescent creatures swimming past the
sub.
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