Last night: I was already tired from a long day's work as I carried my Astroscan forward to the Sweet Spot beside the portside boat station--where the ship's engine and generator vibrations are damped-down by a happy coincidence of hull structures and cargo tank placement--and set up for a few hours of stargazing @ sea.
It was an absolutely beautiful night, with only a mild swell to move 'Laramie's hull, a light wind, and those clear, dark skies that can only be found hundreds of miles from the nearest streetlight or 7-Eleven. The kind of sky where the forms of familiar constellations become difficult to discern because of the multitudes of dimmer stars that seem to crowd them out and break up the patterns we grow accustomed to seeing in the heavens.
Seeing and transparency were excellent, and after acclimating my 'scope's optics to the warm, humid Mediterranean air I began to explore.
Open clusters, globulars, planetary nebulae and galaxies presented themselves for inspection; M51, 27, 31, 32, 110, the Coathangar, M13 and 92--all framed in my 40mm and 25mm eyepiece fields like precious jewels and minerals on display. Stars; Hershel's wonderful Garnet, the spooky duo of v (Nu)Draconis, Lyra's Double-Double and so many more...the time flew past as I drank in the light of distant stellar beacons. And as finale; the fuzzy apparition of Comet Giacobini-Zinne
And, just like that, four hours had passed. If I was tired when I toted my 'scope up to the bows, then I was reeling with exhaustion as I began the climb back to my stateroom and bunk. But I was also drunk with starlight, overpowered by Saturn, Jupiter and Mars, stunned by the vistas revealed by my little telescope as the ship carries me across the surface of the sea and beneath the stars.
Immensities below, infinities above...the word and concept of awe seem to lack sufficient depth and power. To feel the rumble of the engines, hear the rush of water down the sides and the occasional splash of an escorting dolphin, to drink in great draughts of wonder from above...THIS is why I do what I do, and this is why I cannot imagine ever stopping.
I really do have the best job in the world.
It was an absolutely beautiful night, with only a mild swell to move 'Laramie's hull, a light wind, and those clear, dark skies that can only be found hundreds of miles from the nearest streetlight or 7-Eleven. The kind of sky where the forms of familiar constellations become difficult to discern because of the multitudes of dimmer stars that seem to crowd them out and break up the patterns we grow accustomed to seeing in the heavens.
Seeing and transparency were excellent, and after acclimating my 'scope's optics to the warm, humid Mediterranean air I began to explore.
Open clusters, globulars, planetary nebulae and galaxies presented themselves for inspection; M51, 27, 31, 32, 110, the Coathangar, M13 and 92--all framed in my 40mm and 25mm eyepiece fields like precious jewels and minerals on display. Stars; Hershel's wonderful Garnet, the spooky duo of v (Nu)Draconis, Lyra's Double-Double and so many more...the time flew past as I drank in the light of distant stellar beacons. And as finale; the fuzzy apparition of Comet Giacobini-Zinne
And, just like that, four hours had passed. If I was tired when I toted my 'scope up to the bows, then I was reeling with exhaustion as I began the climb back to my stateroom and bunk. But I was also drunk with starlight, overpowered by Saturn, Jupiter and Mars, stunned by the vistas revealed by my little telescope as the ship carries me across the surface of the sea and beneath the stars.
Immensities below, infinities above...the word and concept of awe seem to lack sufficient depth and power. To feel the rumble of the engines, hear the rush of water down the sides and the occasional splash of an escorting dolphin, to drink in great draughts of wonder from above...THIS is why I do what I do, and this is why I cannot imagine ever stopping.
I really do have the best job in the world.
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