Easter Sunday:

Members of Crew 27 departed this morning after depleting Pop Tart stocks to critically low levels. They seemed relieved to be going home, although by all accounts they accomplished a great deal during their rotation, especially with regard to Greenhab operations. With Crew 27 gone, the hab belonged solely to us, Crew 28, and we began an immediate clean-up that lasted well into the afternoon. The corrugated steel floors of the lab were mopped; the upper level was vacuumed; and the kitchen was reorganized and given a thorough scrubbing. Making lunch proved more difficult than expected, however, as the one of the hotplate burners was malfunctioning. Gregorio Drayer repaired it well in time for dinner.

Everyone has now been trained on the daily operations of the hab's various systems, including upkeep of the generator, tending water reclamation in the Greenhab, filling the water tank, and so on. At this early point in the rotation, there seems to be an impossible number of tasks to accomplish, and overlooking even the smallest one might have dire consequences. For instance, a member of the departing crew, glancing up at the water tank on his way out, noticed that levels were too low, a situation that risked air being pumped into the line. None of us were aware of this fact until he pointed it out by happenstance. Still, given our crew's willingness to pitch in and get things done I think we'll settle into a groove fairly quickly; and by the end of our rotation I'm certain the maintaining the hab will become second nature so that we can concentrate on more important matters of exploration.

We received a visit from a British fellow vacationing in the area. Although I only heard part of the conversation he had with Commander Frederick, the fellow seemed a bit miffed that the Mars Society might be tearing up the delicate riparian desert ecosystem with our ATV's. Exhibiting excellent public relations skills, Commander Frederick assured the man that we were careful to stay mostly on roads during our EVA's, and he invited the man in for a tour of the hab, which the man gratefully accepted. Meanwhile, I encountered a baby rattlesnake next to the 'pressurized rover' (or, as it's known on earth, an old Ford F-350 crew cab pick up truck). The snake was exactly the color of the dusty soil, very hard to see unless one was looking directly at it, and a little over a foot long. About as big around as a man's thumb. Its rattle wasn't a rattle at all, but rather a curious buzzing noise. I stepped slowly away from the snake, and it uncoiled itself from its strike posture and carried on with its business. So, that answers that question: there is indeed life on Mars.