A purposeful crew woke up this morning. We felt a comedown from yesterday's high, all of us, and this feeling was intensified as we listed the tasks of the day on the whiteboard. But we didn't get down to the real business of the day till we had polished off the grits, ham, and eggs served up by Kim and Derek.

Our "to-do" list today took on a new urgency for us, as we feel the ticking of the clock as it counts down the hours and the minutes of our time remaining here. We officially hand over the Hab on Sunday, but today we were to be joined by Jim Beyer, who's coming from the University of Michigan to work on the Mars Rover's plumbing system and train the incoming crew, and tomorrow we will meet and begin orienting some of the incoming members of Crew 16. We all feel the need to make the most of the time, and squeeze in another EVA, take all the photos we haven't yet taken, and enjoy every minute left of one another's company. We are a remarkably congenial group who now work, eat, and play together as if we've known one another for decades.

But while we are pulled by our desire to be selfish and have good scientific fun, we feel a responsibility to the incoming members of Crew 16 to hand over the station in good condition, clean and well organized. These conflicting goals revealed themselves in the list that appeared on the whiteboard over the course of the morning. As the list grew longer, we saw added both mundane and glorious tasks, from "Empty Incinolet," "Prop up Generac trailer," "Make signs," and "Put hooks up in bathroom" to "Make major discovery by lunch."

We took care of a few small jobs right after our morning meeting, and some of us worked on finishing reports we had been too tired to wind up last night. During David's chores, he went outside--and found Derek the cameraman from yesterday, who had come back for a short visit, bringing his roommate and his Karelian Bear Dogs, which he had told us about yesterday. These dogs are used as part of a program to condition wild bears to avoid people. When she heard that the dogs were outside, Kim ran down the stairs and outside to see them. Next thing I knew, she was back upstairs again and showing photos of herself with Fancy and Usko. Before Derek and his companions left, we gave a short tour of our facilities to our visitors and chatted a bit about our work here.

Soon it would be time to get down to some real work. But before we began to be too involved in the tasks of the day, we had scheduled a little fun and photography. Today was "Take Cheesy Photo Day." This day was inspired by an earlier photo session Tim had done with Derek. Derek had struck heroic poses in an EVA suit while Tim snapped away (to impress and amuse the lads back home in Limerick), and the result was worthy of a spot in a gallery of galactic greats. Once we all saw Derek's, we had to have our own versions. The photo session began at 10:00 sharp.

I am ashamed to say here what hams we all were when we were put in the spotlight among friends. In EVA suits, we each--one at a time--climbed the official "Derek Hero Pose Hill" and had photos snapped. Then we took some group shots. The effort was a collaboration: we used my camera on David's tripod, and Derek looked through the viewfinder. Of course we needed shots with the Mars Society red, green, and blue flag as it billowed and snapped in the wind. And then Jody wanted his picture with the Rover to show the folks back home, and Kim wanted to document the space weasel we've been followed by on several occasions, so we managed to get it on camera as well, and of course Jody and I needed to have our pictures made together, and . . . well . . . the session went on for quite a while. We ended with a nice group photo on the steps of the Hab.

By then, it was lunchtime. Again, Derek and Kim stepped up to take care of us and put out a nice spread of leftover cabinet soup along with odds and ends. Lunch was the end of the cheese-a traumatic event, as cheese has been a staple of Tim's diet. Since then, he has experimented with some MREs that were left here by some previous crew. He's willing to try anything as long as it is protein, and his taste-tests are egged on by Jody. So far he has tried a spaghetti one and a beefsteak. We are hoping tomorrow to get him to try "Pork Chop, chunked and formed in Jamaican style sauce with noodles."

Jody had planned an EVA to begin shortly after lunch. Until yesterday and this morning, we have consistently been in sim since we finished the repairs and cleanup around the Hab. Today we needed to work on the EVA suits to leave them in good shape for the incoming crew, but at the same time, several of us wanted to go on an ATV trip to Candor Chasma Canyon. How could we stay in sim and yet take our planned research EVA to the canyon?

As it turned out, Jody had a cunning solution to our problem. We would do a simulated mission on Mars, the terraformed planet, and leave the EVA suits in capable hands. Tim and I seconded this idea, with David's approval, and began to prepare for this terraform EVA. We bundled up against the brisk wind, topping several layers with jackets, hats, and sunglasses. Of course I had my cameras, so that when Tim made the major discovery (it was going to have to happen after lunch, since it didn't occur before), I would be ready to document it. And Jody suspected that Candor Chasma Canyon would be geologically interesting, so I was ready to be delighted.

We fumbled around a little finding the right road-it heads off to the east from Cow Dung Road, but the turnoff is not very noticeable; Kim and I had missed it in our EVA suits the other day, and the three of us this afternoon drove past it once and had to double back. But finally Jody saw the faint signs of the turnoff, and so we left the main road and set off across country. The afternoon was lovely-blue skies with puffy white clouds, cool breeze, scrub grass and sand, cows and cow patties.

Jody led us well over sand and rock and hill and ditch. Tim was obviously enjoying himself; I almost expected him do give a cowboy yaaahhooooooo! as he passed me on one stretch. I was absorbed in the moment: fresh air in my face, clumps of cacti to dodge, rocks to hop over. This was a long way from my life in South Carolina. If only my friends could see me now! As I daydreamed about astonishing them with my tales of life on Mars, Jody purposefully led us to our destination.

We stopped and parked the ATVs, unloading our equipment off the racks-Jody's inevitable geology box and my camera bag. Thus supplied, we set off to explore Candor Chasm Canyon. This was a place unlike the others I had seen, a narrow gorge with walls of pastel stripes. Though I'm not a geologist, I was able to recognize some of the rocks I was seeing-we identified gypsum, and up at the top of the canyon we thought we could see other rocks we've been taking samples from for the last ten days.

One discovery that was not geological but that interested us nonetheless was a series of animal tracks. These, we decided, were made perhaps by some cat, and we look forward to trying to match the pictures I took with sketches we can find, and see what it was. The tracks were well preserved in the damp sand upon which we were walking, and we followed their trail the whole time we were in the canyon.

As we walked further and further into the canyon, Jody became more animated, as we were at last walking within the Summerville Formation. His step quickened; he patted the rock, scraped at it with his fingernail. Tim and I looked around us simply taking in the scene; Jody absorbed what he was seeing. The Summerville Formation is below the Morrison Formation, where we have been spending most of our time-the level of the Hab. The colors of the Summerville, as I said, were nice-yellows, greens, reds, stark white--layers upon layers, veins, stacked rocks, dry riverbed-and quiet, except for birds rustling and whistling. So quiet. Eventually we turned and retraced our steps.

The quiet ended when we cranked the ATVs again. We were unwilling to let go of the afternoon and return to the Hab. Jody and David had explored some of this upper area, beyond the canyon a few days before, so Jody knew of a couple of nice views he could show us. We careened down the road that was hardly a road, making a turn here and there, and ended up at a dead end overlooking the confluence of the Fremont River and Muddy Creek. In the distance, I could see the Hanksville airport. We took a few pictures and regretfully turned our way back home.

Moving through the terraformed planet in our own clothes today was much easier to do than the moving around Mars in EVA gear yesterday. I felt much freer to move about, to use the ATV controls, to take photos with my camera. But the wind got in my eyes and caused them to water, a problem I avoided in the EVA helmet. So there are advantages to seeing the world through a plastic bubble.

We stopped a couple of more times before we came upon the Hab. In a sense, we had made a circle, as our route leaving the Hab went to the south, and we returned to the Hab from the north. Before we pulled in and parked, Jody stopped to pick up a five-gallon bucket that had blown away in the wind. Inspired, I turned and parked and walked a few hundred yards to try to figure out what we had been seeing from the window of the Hab. Ever since the big windstorm, we'd been seeing a something shiny, probably a reflection from some object, off one of the hills.

When I reached the spot, I discovered that the wind had carried some sheets of corrugated plastic from our supply dump to lodge in the rocks. The wind was still blowing, so it was hard for me to pick these sheets up-they were about four feet wide and six or so feet long-as they kept getting caught by the wind and blowing me around. I finally managed to hold them shoulder high and twist my body to support them, but I felt as if I were a mast and they were sails. They pulled against me and jerked with the wind. It was all I could do to maintain my hold on them till I got back to the Hab and Jody relieved me of my burden. While he secured them, I walked back to where I had left the ATV and drove it on in.

Now it was time for me to finish my daily log from yesterday (it was due the night before, but I had run out of steam). I sat down at the community desk and worked for several hours, off and on, and finally submitted it to Mission Support after supper.

I took a break at suppertime. Kim whipped up a delicious barley and mushroom casserole, along with carrots and a nice salad. Jim Beyer, from Michigan, stopped his work in the Rover to join us, and the conversation was lively. After supper, Derek and Tim went out to work with the telescope, while David, Jody and I sat down to write our various reports. When we arrived here at MDRS two weeks ago, I knew that I was to do a lot of writing-that was my job here-but I didn't realize how much writing the others would do.

David has daily check-in and commander's reports to write that involve recording events of the day; in order to do so, he has to chase us down so that he can include summaries of our information. Jody looks at and studies rocks all day in the field and in the lab, then spends a couple of hours every night writing his geology report. Meanwhile, all day, Derek has to keep track of data--our water and propane use, temperature and humidity in the GreenHab, and the like-and record the information in the engineering report. In addition, he spends a lot of time writing up his own work. And I generally spend about 3-4 hours per day on my journals.

So David, Jody, and I were all immersed in our writing, and Kim was working on her wireless stuff, when we got an excited radio call from the Observatory. "We've got Jupiter!" Kim, in the midst of stirring her cup of tea, leapt out of her chair, flung herself down the stairs, hopped through the airlock, and sped up to the Observatory. Jody, David, and I simply looked at one another. We typed away a while longer, and then Jody said, "I'm going up there." Soon he, too, was gone, while David and I continued to click at the keys and moan over our lack of progress. Pages written, pages to go.

When Kim returned with more news of Tim and Derek, I decided to check out the view. We were all excited that the telescope was cooperating at last-the three of them had put in quite a lot of time to make it happen, and finally we had a clear night. All the stars were aligned, as it were, for good things to happen. When I reached the Observatory, my hosts were very obliging. They showed me a photo that they had taken of Jupiter, and then they moved the roof of the Observatory to the Jupiter-viewing position. It was fascinating to see the slot in the roof change position as the roof moved in its track. Derek was looking through the telescope while Tim moved the roof, and as new sky was revealed, Tim patiently pointed out Jupiter to me. They wanted me to see it just with my eyes first, before I looked through the telescope. It was the brightest object in the part of the sky I could see.

But now it was time. Derek moved me into position and told me what to look for. I peered into the eyepiece, and . . . there it was: a softly round object, with dots on each side of it (these were the moons, Derek told me), lined up in a plane-a perfectly straight line of moons. When I looked closer, I saw the rings, which showed up as two brownish stripes forming a rakishly-tilted belt around the planet.

Tim and Derek talked me through what I was seeing, and I asked a number of questions. My curiosity, however, was defeated by my guilt of not getting my writing done, so I said good-bye to the astronomers and made my way back to the Hab. The stars were bright, though, as I looked up, and I felt in a small way that I had just visited them. But I had to turn my back on exploration on this starry night and go inside to meet my deadlines.

Reality looms.