While some expedition ships have glossy science labs complete with microscopes for passengers to play with, Ponant’s new icebreaker setup Le Commandin Charcotit’s different.

The two laboratories here have an industrial look, are windowless and filled with rotating machinery. Test tubes, beakers filled with seawater, pumps, plankton collection nets, etc. are scattered about.

A refrigerator can store samples at -80°C, and a device called FerryBox measures seawater quality.

In the “wet lab”, there is a special hole in the hull called a moon pool, through which you can collect seawater samples. Outside, an antenna protrudes from the bow with sensors that control the thickness of the sea ice.

What makes this ship unique is that it is a working laboratory designed for academic research by four scientists at a time. The lab was part of the specification during the ship’s design phase, but now Ponant is pioneering its relationship with expedition cruising and academia.

The science lab is unique, believes the ship’s science coordinator, Daniel Kron. “We did a benchmark study to see what happened to other ships,” he says. “There were ‘citizen science’ projects, but nothing academic. We hope to provide a lab for

So does the scientific community. “This is a great opportunity,” says Dr. Jean-Philippe Savy, a marine chemist at the University of Bordeaux who measures ocean deoxygenation. “We could apply for a grant and get him out of 40 other people and he could go on a research boat with 50 scientists and collect data sets from the same place every year, but we need data from everywhere.” Le Commandant Charcot gives us new data about different locations.”

The application process is also quick, and scientists do not pay participation fees, so no grants are required. Researchers can apply for ship time through her ARICE (Arctic Research Icebreaker Consortium), a scientific organization. A selection committee recommended the most suitable projects to Ponant, and Le Comandin Charcot has already been booked for scientific projects over the next 12 months.

With four scientists arriving and departing per voyage, Mr. Cron’s work is cut short. One of his assignments is to coordinate the instruments of all the scientists, and in a room away from his one in the lab are piles of boxes pre-sent for the next voyage. I’m here. “For each cruise, we have to completely change what we research,” he says. “Everything but the FerryBox and the freezer would need to be removed and new equipment added.”

I am on an expedition to the ice-cold Nordaustrandet, east of Svalbard, reachable only by icebreakers. In addition to Savy, there are scientists working on climate change, microplastics and marine plankton.

Most nights, the captain stops the ship while the passengers are asleep, and the four of them head to the Zodiac to take water samples, no problem in the 24-hour bright light of a polar summer. I never met them, but they work as a team. This is essential as the base has virtually no internet or hotline to the support network in case of equipment problems.

Deborah Stoll, an undergraduate at the German marine research institute GEOMAR, who collects water samples to study microplastics, said: “We learn from each other. For me, this is an opportunity not only to collect data, but also to learn how to do fieldwork.”

Scientists are not obligated to give formal presentations to passengers, but are happy to sit and chat and show visitors around the lab. “As climate scientists, we live in bubbles,” says her Julia Ruiz Girona, a doctoral student at the French research institute LEGOS. “Our colleagues are aware of the big problem. The public knows things like plastic, but they don’t understand other issues of great importance, like ocean acidification.” A project like this is an opportunity for communication for us.”

So far we have won every round.