"Ground Control to Major Tom"...

A few days ago I was privvy to something of a "sneak preview" at the Virginia Living Museum (VLM); an up-close-and-personal look at an actual NASA Mercury Astronaut Space Suit which the team there has been "conserving" for quite a while. This is probably one of the original seven astronauts' training suits and so never flew, but still I must confess to a certain visceral thrill at being able to examine--and briefly even touch--such a relic of our first days in space!

The Mercury suit is meeting the public for the first time today during the VLM's "Noon Years Eve" celebration (1100-1300), and is expected to go on general display next year (2018). I'll certainly be visiting this important piece of our space legacy in the future, but nothng can beat the experience of shaking "hands" with history.

f-stop: Super Moon Setting, 3 Dec 2017

f-stop: Space/Ship

The Tanker's Mainmast--And An Extraterrestrial Visitor (to the right)

A few hours ago as twilight faded to dark, I stepped out onto the starboard bridge wing--and my attention was immediately captured by a brilliant point of steady light rising out of the southwest. Given that stars and planets--let alone the Sun and Moon--tend to rise in the east, it seemed a pretty good bet that this Venus-bright object was an artificial satellite, pursuing its orbital path around Earth.

After a minute of watching it rise from beyond the low stratus cloud-layer I was sure that I was seeing the International Space Station (ISS)--a fact that I confirmed a few minutes later online--and hurried back into the chart house to collect my camera.  A little quick fiddling with manual settings, and I got back outside as the longest extant outpost of humanity in the heavens passed over the mainmast as seen from the 'wing.

I consider this photo--rushed as it was, and taken from a moving deck as well--to be a pretty successful off-the-cuff venture. I'll have to keep an eye out for future passages of the ISS--and have camera and tripod ready!

(Want to know when the next passage of the ISS is visible from YOUR bridge wing? Check out "Heavens Above" for satellite tracking information and much more!   http://www.heavens-above.com/  )

Doing Domes

The 20-inch Refractor at the Chabot Center

Regular readers (or anyone who knows me) will confirm that I love visiting Space Places; observatories, planetaria, museums featuring space themes, etc, etc. Its been a fairly consistent theme in my life--if it has anything to do with astronomy, space travel or related subjects I just can't walk past without a look-see.

Up til now this obsession has been pursued in a random, careless fashion. Ill stop by a planetarium in a city I happen to be visiting or an observatory that my route takes me near. This is how I visited the Chabot Center and Palomar in California, Kitt Peak in Arizona and Cranbrook Institute in Michigan.  Its also how Lucy and I came to Green Bank just last month. I’ve been to quite a few Space Places in the course of a lifetime of fascination with the skies and what we can experience of them, but not in any kind of organized manner.

This changes now.

Beginning today, I'm upping my game. From here on out, my intention is to conduct a more focused program, seeking-out and checking-out those great telescopes in their secluded domes, those all-sky projectors, those launch sites and support facilities amenable to visitation.

If a planetarium lies in a town a am visiting, I will make every effort to get there. If an observatory can be reached with a realistic side-trip off the Interstate, Ill give it my best shot. And if a space-related historic site is anywhere near—then I’m there as well.

It’s a quest, you see. Ill never be able to visit all the domes, climb all the mountains, travel to all of the sites where big rockets roar aloft, but I can try.  It should be a lot of fun.

f-stop: Sunset Colors Over Hampton Roads

Last night Lucy picked me up at the base; as I walked toward her car I was struck by the deep colors and rays of twilight.  It really DOES pay to carry an actual camera around, non?

Watch a star disappear this Sunday night (05NOV)

Looking for a good show on Sunday evening? Well, the bright star Aldebaran will be occulted

(“eclipsed”) by the Moon, and it’s worth making the effort to watch.  Viewing from eastern Virginia

area the actual disappearance can be seen at +/-0056Z (1956 Local) {check online for local times

if you’re not in Va.}, but it’s best to start checking it out periodically up to an hour beforehand.

An hour before the event the Moon will still be a considerable distance from the star, so if you go

out and look every few minutes after that you’ll be able to actually SEE the orbital motion

of the Moon as it closes-in on Aldebaran.  About ten minutes before the occultation is a good

time to begin watching closely as the separation between Moon and star shrinks to nothing…and

then the star winks out!  Can you catch the exact moment when Aldebaran disappears?

Tip for watching: The Moon will be low in the east, but still pretty bright.  The glare may tend

to drown-out Aldebaran’s orange-ish light.  Use a telescope or a pair of binoculars, focus on

the star and follow it, keeping most of the bright Moon out of the field-of-view except for the

edge (“limb”) creeping in from the upper right.

Watching the disappearance of a bright star in occultation is pretty easy…star and Moon seem to

move together until…lights out!  If you want a REAL challenge, try watching for Aldebaran’s

REAPPEARANCE, when the distant sun seems to wink back into existence!

Here’s a good link for more information about this semi-rare event…

https://www.space.com/16149-night-sky.html

Questions? Drop me a note at navalgamer@afgimail.com  If you DO go out to watch this event

I’d like to hear your comments and observations--I am always up for a conversation on the subject

of star-gazing!

Calling All Junior Birdmen...

The Main Hall of the VASC

I'm like a little kid again whenever Lucy and I visit the Virginia Air and Space Center (VASC), and yesterday's tour was no exception to the rule. This Hampton museum doubles as the visitor's center for NASA Langley, so there is always something interesting going on...

"Yankee Clipper" and the Mercury and Gemini 'test items'

My favorite display, as usual, is the Apollo 12 Command Module, "Yankee Clipper", which orbited the Moon while Lunar Module "Intrepid" made the second manned landing on the lunar surface. (I noticed that they've expanded the "do not touch" perimeter of the display--but I would NEVER try to touch such an artifact. Take it home, maybe...)

Mercury Ascendant

Mercury and Gemini "Test Items" are on-display nearby--these are the capsule mock-ups used for parachute and drop-tests. The "Gemini" has a dozen little parachutes painted on it's side--I'm guessing that the upside-down 'chutes represent less-than-successful deployments!

"Open the Pod Bay Door, HAB..."

Along with a couple of new missiles, there were three major additions to the Center since our last visit a year back; a working demo of an inflatable "HAB" module similar to the one currently being tested on the ISS, an "astronaut training" area complete with simulators for practicing your orbital rendezvous technique or rover driving (I tried that one out and discovered an aptitude for NOT driving off cliffs into Valles Marineris!), and--WOW!--the "Solarium", a theater displaying dramatic imagery of solar activity, up-close and personal! THIS was both Lucy's and my own favorite new display--the ever-changing wide-screen vista is mesmerizing!

Yes, the Moon Rocks. A sample from the Apollo 17 Mission.

Overall, I can't think of a better way to spend a rainy afternoon than doing the VASC--if you haven't checked it out yet, it comes highly recommended.

For grown-ups AND born-again kids!

Lucy inspects a mock-up of NASA's "ORION" Crew Module

Hanging in the HAB...

f/Stop: The Green Bank Radio Telescope

Lucy and I visited the National Radio Astronomy Observatory (NRAO) in Green Bank, West Virginia. The Autumn colors dramatically contrasted with the huge disk of the Green Bank Telescope, seen above from nearly a mile's distance (the closest one can come to the sensitive instrument with a digital camera without interfering with its operations).  A beautiful day, and a remarkable facility hidden in the WV mountains!

Saturday Stars

Observatory on the York River

I was right about the sky conditions for Saturday night. Had a terrific evening under unusually impressive skies at York River State Park. Five other observers braved the moderate mosquito threat to enjoy faint fuzzies, and we had fun giving "deep" tours to the dozen or so Members Of The Public who came by.

My favorite part of the evening: I asked a party of hikers what they would like to see and a young lady in the group answered immediately with "something awesome!". There followed a whirlwind tour of my favorite brighter objects...the Double Cluster in Perseus at low-power, globular cluster M-22 in Sagittarius, the distinct red supergiant Mu Cephei ("Herschel's Garnet Star"), doubles Nu Draconis and Albireo, planetary nebulae M-57 (the Ring) and M-27 (the Dumbbell), and finishing with the lovely trifecta of M31/32/110 (the Andromeda Galaxy and it's satellites).

Awesome enough? I got the feeling that the young lady was pretty impressed.

To sum up, a great evening, and for me a terrific way to get back into the local astronomy scene after a long dry season. I can't wait for the next event!

Beating the Drum

(I posted this yesterday on 'Laramie's LAN...working hard to spread the Gospel of star/sun-gazing!)

The Sun Rises in Eclipse: Nov 2013 (Photo by Lucilla Epps)

Hello Shipmates!

By now I’m certain that all of you have heard of the Total Solar Eclipse, happening back in the

‘States on Monday.  If your families back home are within the band of Totality (which runs

across the country from Oregon to S. Carolina) then they are in for a treat; a total eclipse

of the Sun is one of natures’ most amazing spectacles.  Even the partial eclipse, viewed from

rest of the USA, is an impressive sight and worth taking the trouble to view.

That said, please pass this warning to your loved ones: DO NOT LOOK DIRECTLY AT THE

SUN AT ANY TIME.  PERMANENT EYE DAMAGE CAN RESULT FROM EVEN A FEW

SECONDS EXPOSURE. SAFETY IS PARAMOUNT.

So, how can they enjoy the eclipse if they cannot LOOK at it? 

My strongest recommendation is for the folks back home to avail themselves of the public

observing sessions being run by museums, planetaria, observatories and astronomy clubs in

all major cities and towns. These organizations will be using telescopes and other viewing

tools equipped with professionally-made filters to allow SAFE close-up views of the Sun’s disk,

sunspots and prominences (solar weather) and of course the Moon as it blocks-out the Sun.

A quick search on Google, say “eclipse (name of city)” should bring up several options.

Again…DO NOT LOOK DIRECTLY AT THE SUN AT ANY TIME.  PERMANENT EYE DAMAGE

CAN RESULT FROM EVEN A FEW SECONDS EXPOSURE. SAFETY IS PARAMOUNT.

There are also several ways to safely view the Sun without driving or dealing with crowds. 

Making a pinhole projector viewer is a simple and fun crafts project for the kids and when the

eclipse happens they will be able to view the progress of the Moon’s disk as it blocks out the

Sun. You can project the image of the Sun/Moon duo with a colander or cheese-grater!  Check out

these links for more “grate” ideas.

http://www.skyandtelescope.com/2017-total-solar-eclipse/solar-eclipse-activities-kids-families/

https://eclipse2017.nasa.gov/sites/default/files/EclipseCerealBoxViewer.pdf

http://whnt.com/2017/08/18/no-eclipse-glasses-no-problem-just-head-to-the-kitchen/

So, what will WE see, here on our floating observatory?  LARAMIE will be in the eastern Atlantic

and right on the edge of eclipse coverage; the event itself won’t begin until just a few minutes

before sunset on Monday.  We won’t observe Totality (unless you count the Total Eclipse of the

Sun by the EARTH!) but, weather permitting, we SHOULD be able to see a Partial Eclipse begin-

Ing as sunset approaches.  Here’s how…

Redundantly…DO NOT LOOK DIRECTLY AT THE SUN AT ANY TIME.  PERMANENT EYE DAMAGE

CAN RESULT FROM EVEN A FEW SECONDS EXPOSURE. SAFETY IS PARAMOUNT.

I’ll be in my usual observing location on the bridge, with solar filter-equipped binoculars and several

pairs of eclipse shades, starting an hour before sunset.  Given the intended speed of our transit it will

probably be too windy to watch from on-deck; if so we have permission to utilize the port-side

of the bridge itself as an observing site. If you decide to come up, be careful to avoid distracting the

watchstanders.  I’d recommend you bring a camera with some zoom capability; as the Sun approaches

the horizon haze and mist can act as an excellent filter for some literal last-minute photography!

Oh, and last but not least: DO NOT LOOK DIRECTLY AT THE SUN AT ANY TIME.  PERMANENT

EYE DAMAGE CAN RESULT FROM EVEN A FEW SECONDS EXPOSURE. SAFETY IS PARAMOUNT.

Just sayin’.

I hope that this information will help your families enjoy the eclipse, and that you’ll take the opportunity

to glimpse this historic event for yourself!

Questions or concerns? I’m always happy to talk about my favorite subject!

V/R,

Thomas L. Epps
Operations Chief

USNS Laramie (T-AO 203)

The Pale Blue Dot

“Look again at that dot. That's here. That's home. That's us. On it everyone you love, everyone you know, everyone you ever heard of, every human being who ever was, lived out their lives. The aggregate of our joy and suffering, thousands of confident religions, ideologies, and economic doctrines, every hunter and forager, every hero and coward, every creator and destroyer of civilization, every king and peasant, every young couple in love, every mother and father, hopeful child, inventor and explorer, every teacher of morals, every corrupt politician, every "superstar," every "supreme leader," every saint and sinner in the history of our species lived there-on a mote of dust suspended in a sunbeam.

The Earth is a very small stage in a vast cosmic arena. Think of the endless cruelties visited by the inhabitants of one corner of this pixel on the scarcely distinguishable inhabitants of some other corner, how frequent their misunderstandings, how eager they are to kill one another, how fervent their hatreds. Think of the rivers of blood spilled by all those generals and emperors so that, in glory and triumph, they could become the momentary masters of a fraction of a dot.

Our posturings, our imagined self-importance, the delusion that we have some privileged position in the Universe, are challenged by this point of pale light. Our planet is a lonely speck in the great enveloping cosmic dark. In our obscurity, in all this vastness, there is no hint that help will come from elsewhere to save us from ourselves.

The Earth is the only world known so far to harbor life. There is nowhere else, at least in the near future, to which our species could migrate. Visit, yes. Settle, not yet. Like it or not, for the moment the Earth is where we make our stand.

It has been said that astronomy is a humbling and character-building experience. There is perhaps no better demonstration of the folly of human conceits than this distant image of our tiny world. To me, it underscores our responsibility to deal more kindly with one another, and to preserve and cherish the pale blue dot, the only home we've ever known.

Ann Druyan suggests an experiment: Look back again at the pale blue dot of the preceding chapter. Take a good long look at it. Stare at the dot for any length of time and then try to convince yourself that God created the whole Universe for one of the 10 million or so species of life that inhabit that speck of dust. Now take it a step further: Imagine that everything was made just for a single shade of that species, or gender, or ethnic or religious subdivision. If this doesn’t strike you as unlikely, pick another dot. Imagine it to be inhabited by a different form of intelligent life. They, too, cherish the notion of a God who has created everything for their benefit. How seriously do you take their claim?”


― Carl Sagan, Pale Blue Dot: A Vision of the Human Future in Space

Carl Sagan (1934-1996)

Perseids @ Sea

Last night I had the exhilarating experience of viewing the peak of the Perseids meteor shower in the company of a dozen Shipmates (oddly, the majority of them seemed to be engineers) from the signal bridge, perched high on the Tanker's upper works.  The view was spectacular, with the Milky Way stretching horizon-to-horizon, the Summer Triangle ensnared in our ship's signal halyards, and golden Saturn gleaming in contrast to ruddy Antares in the south.

As might be imagined, I was in my element; explaining how meteor streams occur, are refreshed by their parent comets, and intersect with the orbit of our own Earth; pointing out constellations and asterisms; walking my companions through the "scales" of the night sky, starting with Saturn at mere interplanetary distances, moving out through light-years to Vega and Antares and distant Deneb--then taking that leap into intergalactic realms with the lovely naked-eye galaxy of Andromeda.

The evening's conversation ranged, you might say, far-afield, but every minute or so we were drawn back to the "shallow" sky by another bright meteor flashing overhead from east to west.  While not the best Perseid show I've ever experienced, the celestial fireworks were quite satisfactory to all present, and the shower was still going strong when the rising Moon began to brighten the skies.

As midnight came nigh I found myself alone on the signal bridge; a thin skein of cirrus had formed and conspired with Luna to end the evening's show.  As I gathered binoculars, star atlas and red flashlight my thoughts went back over the evening's adventures in time and space, aeons and megaparsecs.  Once again I'd had proven to me that exploring the heavens in the company of enthusiastic Shipmates is what I truly enjoy about being an astronomer;  whether on a sidewalk with "members of the public" or atop the towering superstructure of a mighty sea-going vessel with crew-mates, the true joy of observing the skies lies in the sharing.

But then, I already knew that.

f-stop: My August Eclipse

Last night I watched a very nice partial lunar eclipse from 'Laramie's bridge wing. A half-dozen Shipmates joined me to watch Earth's shadow obscure about a quarter of our satellite's disk. Here in the Red Sea it was easy to see the penumbra creep across Luna's surface; all the dust in the atmosphere here acts as a natural filter, enhancing the changes in brightness and tone.

Red Sea Eclipse...

I'm going to miss the August 21 Solar Eclipse that so many folks Stateside are preparing for; I suppose that the experience of observing the Moon's darkening limb could be considered a consolation prize.

I guess I can accept that.

On Turning From Darkness...

Three days after having my hopes and dreams crushed I'm still trying to deal with the fact that I won't be able to get home for the August 21 Total Solar Eclipse.  On that date, when millions of my fellow amateur astronomers are experiencing Totality within that narrow line of darkness stretching from the Pacific Northwest to coastal South Carolina, I'll be aboard the Tanker in mid-ocean, thousands of miles away.

I had it all planned.  Gathering friends and family at a lovely B&B near Georgetown, S.C., arriving early to avoid the traffic jams that are sure to ensue as last-minute travelers rush toward that twilight zone.  I made the reservations over two years back, began planning nearly a decade ago for this combination reunion and star party.  I've waited forty years for those few minutes of Totality...and it would all have been worth it to have been there, with Lucy, Cynthia, Tara and Alexis, Carla and Larry, Zora, Peter and maybe even Lilian and Alex, watching the moon slowly block out our view of the photosphere.

Well worth it.

Now, my heart aches in my chest, my gut roils as I read again the email from headquarters;  my leave request has been denied.  The reason given is that there are several Operations Chiefs in the Pool back in Norfolk waiting for assignment; if I want to fly home I'll need to accept relief by one of them.  Essentially, I'll need to sacrifice my position here to make this happen.

But I won't do that--I can't.  If I accept relief I'll enjoy the eclipse but after reporting off-leave I'll be at the mercy of the Pool itself. And there I will sit, waiting for a ship...long months of purgatory as I abide until some other Ops Chief decides to go home (and don't forget that I would be waiting at the end of the line with who-knows-how-many before me?).  The last time I left a ship for personal reasons I spent over a year there on reduced pay while Lucy and I watched our savings suffer slow hemorrhage and struggled to make ends meet.

I can't put my family through that again.  I can't justify such a selfish and irresponsible act.

So I stay aboard the Tanker as she cruises distant waters while Luna's shadow blankets the South Carolina coast.  I'll watch the once-in-a-lifetime event that I've dreamed of for most of my life on CNN or perhaps Fox.  I'll wish all my astronomical friends "clear skies" and honestly hope for success in their observations. I'll encourage shipmates to make sure their family members back home prepare to safely observe the coming of shadows.

Oh, and I'll die a little inside.

Observing the Shining Moon

We recently had a distinguished guest here in the Arabian Sea.  The Japanese destroyer Teruzuki, one of the thriving international community of warships that patrol these waters, came alongside for fuel and an exchange of friendly greetings. As is always the case when we have customers from other nations' navies on the approach for replenishment, curiosity ran high about the new neighbors come to call!

Teruzuki's helicopter photographs the proceedings

Teruzuki means "Shining Moon", a name which I can certainly appreciate. She is quite the impressive warship, with what this sailor judges to be a well-balanced mix of offensive and defensive weapons systems and sensors.  Even more importantly, she appears to have a capable, professional crew who leaped into the task of refueling their vessel without misplaced step or wasted movement.

Taking fuel

As I've mentioned on occasion, I've always been fascinated with the ships and Sailors of other navies. It's become clear to me over the years that, though we do the same things in the performance of our duties aboard ship and for our respective nations, we all do them differently.

Detached...

It's been said that variety is the spice of life; I find this very true in the fraternity of Sailors, the worldwide order of Naval ships and people.  After all these years at sea I find myself still drawn to the rail when an unfamiliar mast breaks the line of the horizon--Teruzuki is only the latest of a long, long line of ships with which I have fallen in love over the decades!

...and proceeding on duties assigned.

One of the beautiful photos taken by Teruzuki's helicopter

Southern Stars: Overture

The Sky Tonight (Image: Stellarium)

As I step from wheelhouse to starboard bridge wing the heat and humidity strike me like a mallet; it actually takes an effort of will not to close the door and remain inside.  But I am there to view the stars, not shelter against the equatorial climate of the east African coast.  I shut the door behind me and after a quick glance at the darkening sky to ensure that it remains cloudless begin preparations for the night's star-gazing.

Together my equipment and I will require time to adjust to the conditions to be found off the Somali coastline in May. The 7x50 binoculars are tightly capped and will remain so until their lenses and prisms have the opportunity to warm from air-conditioned coolness to near ambient temperature--to remove their caps any earlier would be to invite their being instantly fogged to uselessness in this humidity. In similar fashion my eyes require time to adapt to the darkness; for the half-hour or so that these acclimatizations take I will be updating my observing plan and journal in the amber illumination of the chart-house.

The Tanker entered this area a few days ago in the course of her assigned duties, and is scheduled to depart soon; tonight might well be my only opportunity to study these skies before we head north and the treasures revealed sink once more to the misty southern horizon.  Clear, calm nights are a rare commodity on the open sea--this night is a rare opportunity not to be cast aside lightly, and I don't plan to do so.

The bridge watch-standers are accustomed to seeing me in the evenings and sometimes the early hours as well; nobody questions my quiet presence in the chart-house as I plan my observing campaign and make notes on laminated star charts with a dry-erase marker under the red lights. The Watch Officer stops by to inquire as to my targets for the night, and one of the Lookouts takes time to report a bright meteor seen late last night. I appreciate the conversation with my Shipmates, and the curiosity they express about the dark skies that we work and play under; they know they are welcome to join me on-deck as their duties allow--I'm always happy to share my Universe!

At last I'm ready to begin. The optics have had plenty of time to warm and my eyes are nearly as well dark-adapted as they can be before heading outside.  Once again the heat and humidity attack as soon as I leave the cool bridge, but this time I have a mission; I step out from under the bridge wing awning and turn my eyes toward the heavens.

Beautiful!  I simply stand and stare, absorbing the vista before me.  In the still air the stars are sharp, fine points from zenith nearly to horizon; even Sirius in the west gleams with uncharacteristically steady blue-white light.  Nearly overhead, mighty Jupiter dominates the constellation of Virgo, while to the east the claws and heart of Scorpius rise. The Milky Way is a down-turned curve of curdled light, masked in places by dusty paths of shadow, stretching from southeastern to southwestern horizons.

It's within that bowl of stars that I plan to begin tonight's explorations...

A word on binocular star-gazing from the deck of a powered ship at sea; it's a real challenge because, by definition, EVERYTHING is moving.  Even in the most gentle seas the hull shifts slightly beneath your boot-soles; there is always some "rock & roll" (technical terms: pitch, roll and yaw) to be dealt with by the observer trying to keep his optics trained on that distant patch of fuzz in the constellation Hercules.

Other factors come into play as well.  The deck and every surface of the ship are vibrating continuously--the diesel motors and generators far below decks ensure that the entire mass of the vessel is in a constant state of oscillation. It can be quite windy up on deck as well; this flow of air is caused by both the actual,"true" wind and by the ship's motion relative to the direction and speed of nature's breath--not surprisingly this is called "relative wind".

The combination of these elements--the ship's motion, vibration, and winds across the deck--can make locating that double star or contemplating that nebula something of a chore.  Usually, after two hours or so of supporting the binoculars while keeping myself as steady as possible on the shifting deck I find myself sore and tired, more than ready for a break or even my welcoming bed.  But the results--especially on a night like this--can make the effort and resulting exhaustion well worth while.

Back to the bridge wing...the Bushnell 7x50 binoculars have had plenty of time to warm-up, and my eyes are nearly fully dark-adapted. Off come the caps and on go my "infinity" glasses--a special prescription I arranged with my optometrist-- and it's time to explore.

Tonight's Playground (Stellarium)

As I rarely get the opportunity to observe this far south I am planning to concentrate on the Three 'C's tonight; that is, Carina, Crux and Centaurus. These constellations are invisible from my home in Virginia but tonight, in the western Indian Ocean four degrees south of the Equator, they light up the sky off our starboard side, inviting inspection and discovery. 

Since Carina has already passed the meridian and is slowly falling toward the south-western horizon, it's to be this Sailor-Astronomer's first port of call tonight.

To be continued.

The Constellation of Argo Navis

Crossing The Line

Swearing Fealty to Neptunus Rex!

Today we crossed the equator for the first time on this cruise...and as always there were a few Shipmates aboard for whom this was their first experience of "crossing the line". In face, only hours after crossing the equator it was announced that His Majesty, Neptunus Rex, had arrived aboard our ship...

Pollywogs advance!

What followed, of course, was silly, wet fun as the "Pollywogs", or first-timers in Neptunes Realm, were appropriately dressed  and made clean (after first being made quite filthy) before being presented before Neptune Himself to be judged and found either ready or not for their duties and responsibilities as Trusty Shellbacks.

Just fun, but with a purpose.  Ever since humans set sail on fragile ships across the world's oceans this ceremony has served as an initiation, not just into the "mysteries of the deep", but into the brotherhood of Mariners.  The visit of Neptunus Rex serves to bind a ship's company together, making them not just a group of individuals, but a Crew. And just as in the most ancient of days, the cohesion of a ship's crew can make all the difference when the chips are down.

The Royal Baby

 I was initiated into King Neptunes' Court 'way back in 1990, while USS Peterson patrolled off the coast of Liberia during their civil war.  Today I can remember the pride I felt as I stood in the Presence, and I think the young Sailors and Mariners who were initiated today will also remember this experience for many years. It's tradition, after all, that binds us together out here; we came from all walks of life and arrive via different routes, but it is here, far from homeport and facing the sea in her many moods, where the power of a simple ceremony becomes plain.

To the Initiated, anyway.

Some People can make ANYTHING look good!

Kissing the Belly of the Baby

His Majesty's Receiving Line

Mariano Robles...A.K.A. Davy Jones

The King Surveys His Domain!

A Salty Shower

Row, Row, Row Yer Boat, Swabbies!

Volunteers All!

f-stop: Moon over Aqaba

The Moon crests the peaks east of Aqaba, Jordan

The Gulf and city of Aqaba by Moonlight

Eilat Report, Day (Night) Two

Desert Moon

Another terrific night with Eitan and John; unfortunately my last opportunity to star-gaze with them during this port visit.  Ah, well--perhaps I can bribe the schedulers back at Fifth Fleet into sending us back here soon!
I'll work on that...

The nearly-full Moon seemed to wash out the details of the desert in a flash-flood of light as we arrived and set up for the evening's guests.  Tonight the attendees were all Hebrew speakers and so I was prepared to sit out the sky-tour "action" around Eitan and his telescope; I had my camera and small tripod along with my trusty 7x50 binoculars for scanning the heavens.

It was a small party that found us in the wilderness; a father, mother and three children, all eager for an evening of star-gazing.  At first I thought there were only two kids; I was standing by their car focusing on Luna when I heard a soft snore from inside.  Strange sounds, what you hear in the desert at night!

Preparing to shoot the Moon

All too soon the evening came to a close. While our guests disappeared down the highway toward Eilat, Eitan and John stowed the Dob in the back of Eitan's car and I packed my photographic rig away.  A stop on the way back to town for cool drinks and then I had to say goodbye to my new friends.  How long before we meet again?  Hopefully soon, but only time will tell!

Eitan and John and the mobile observatory

Eilat Report: Day (Night) One

Eitan picked me up after dark and we met up with John and new friend Scott at a small falafel stand in the city. Eitan ordered for us (I know very little about the local food, after all) and we chowed-down on the tastiest eats I've had in a long, long time. Gustatory bliss, it was!

Talking and getting to know each other (beyond the Fb avatars we had previously known each other by) I found myself immediately accepted into this circle of friends here at the extreme southern end of Israel. Stargazing seems to have that effect on people from all backgrounds, as I have discovered in so many countries in the course of my travels.

Meal finished, we split up. Scott and John went off to collect the night's star party guests while Eitan and I headed out to one of his observing sites in the Negev Desert in his car. Not a long drive and soon we were setting-up Eitan's 12-inch Dobsonian in a rocky oval depression in the landscape perhaps half-an-hour from town.

I say that WE were setting-up the Dob; actually I kibitzed and stared at the Moon and Jupiter while Eitan made preparations for the evening--the good astronomical guest never pushes his assistance on the host but stands by ready to help if needed!

By the time John and Scott arrived with the evening's guests all was in readiness, and Eitan swung cheerfully into his well-practiced and -prepared spiel on the sky, stars, planets and constellations--in both English and Hebrew. Listening, it was pretty clear that the man knows his stuff.

There were eight of us out in the Negev last night, viewing Jupiter, Saturn and Luna, plus a sampling of double and binary stars; listening to Eitan "selling" the universe in two languages. A young couple from Washington, D.C., a father and his young son, John, Scott and myself--all captivated by the beauty of our surroundings and the sky show overhead. Eitan's skilled, practiced presentation in the cool, dry air amidst the rugged landscape made this a star party to remember for me, and, I hope, an inspiring experience for the novice star-gazers who joined us for an evening under the stars.

Tonight...back to the desert!

Returning to Israel

Israel! It's been a very long time...the last time I walked this land was 1988, and that was in Haifa, at the other end of the country. This morning we have moored in Eilat, a beautiful town set in the rugged hills surrounding the Gulf of Aqaba. I have big plans for this port visit; I want to get together (and hopefully engage in some stargazing) with a couple of astronomical friends who live in the area. 

I strongly suspect that THIS will be the high point of the cruise...

Into Darkness

A gloriously-clear morning here in the Gulf of Aden. The Milky Way with it's knotty star-clouds and open clusters contrasting with the darkness of sinuous dust lanes that both obscure and define our view of our home galaxy, To the south, Sagittarius and Scorpius stand high revealing the mysteries of the "other" circumpolar skies to be seen beneath them. Jupiter rules the western horizon while in the east rises Pegasus and his captive rider; beneath the clearly-visible disk of the voluptuous Andromeda Galaxy a round spot of haze can be seen; Triangulum's own great galaxy poses for the naked eye.

There are treasures to be harvested here in the vistas to be seen from my sea-going observatory, so far from shore and the bright lights of cities and industry. Here, I can stand on deck, feel the vibration of engines far below, hear the whisper of water rushing along our vessel's sides, and, without strain, reach out with my fingertips to brush the heavens above.

I think I'm going to enjoy this cruise.

A Ten Dolla' Telescope

G'Day everyone, and say "hello" to my latest little telescope restoration project! I picked this Bushnell 60mm optical tube assembly up on Ebay for a mere $10 and have spent a sizeable portion of my off-time over the past three weeks cleaning it inside and out, removing and disposing of the useless "yoke" mounting that came attached to it, and filing-in the holes in the tube with pop-rivets. THEN I dug up an old mini-eq mounting and placed the tube assembly on it, replaced the .965" eyepieces with some decent quality 1.25" EPs that the human eye can actually see through, and scrounged in my parts-bin for an Orion V-Block filter (kills fringes dead!)...and voila! Meet "Mariner", the first table-top equatorially-mounted f13 refractor telescope that I for one have ever seen!

My Ebay purchase...such a deal.

 A star--diminutive but impressively portable AND steady--is born.

Last night--cloudy but not impossibly so--was "first light" for this little mutant beast, and as guinea pig I selected one of our young officers, Daniel Murphy, to put Mariner through its paces. After a few minutes' instruction on care and feeding Daniel was in control--checking out the Moon, Jupiter and Arcturus. His verdict; not too shabby! I tend to agree.

Mr. Murphy watches the Moon rise.

 On a serious note, small telescopes like this vintage (mid-'70s) Bushnell are usually maligned by experienced observers, but with a little modification they can become quite capable star-gazing tools. I started out with a 'scope much like this one, and was fortunate to have knowledgeable observers at hand to teach me how to get the most out of my new instrument. Good eyepieces, a solid, versatile mounting, and a decent finder can turn that "department store" telescope into a a pretty impressive observing machine!

Mariner on the Bridge...Appropriate, no?

 As for little Mariner, I'm sure I can find him a good home... eventually. I want to play a little, first!