A Telescope Tale

A Telescope Tale

From my astronomical journals...

 

12 June 1986

Flagstaff, Arizona

Weather:            clr/cm, Temp 48f, Bar 1019, Hum 35%

Instrument(s):    60mm Bushnell Refractor on Equatorial Mounting
Narrative:         Mars and Jupiter observed with 60mm Refractor/no times noted.

MARS: Approx. on meridian.  20mm eyepiece (no filter) visible disk, but no detail due to glare.

12.5mm (filter) Definite detail-polar cap & dark greenish area. 12.5mm (w/out filter) Detail visible, but partially obscured by glare. 4mm: Hard to focus, but nice view of polar cap.
*******************************************
JUPITER: High in SE. 20mm: Three satellites visible--glare obscured planet. 12.5mm: (filter) surface detail visible--3 band. 4mm: four major cloud bands visible--no red spot.
*******************************************

The telescope I was using on that cool June evening in Flagstaff (a Bushnell "Banner Astro 400" and the subject of this post) was actually the second refractor I have owned in the course of my forty-year-long love affair with the night sky; the first was a similar but lower quality 'scope that my mother purchased for me at Christmas of '72.  I recall her concern that I would outgrow the hobby, losing interest in the stars, and the inexpensive Sears telescope she had selected for me would end up gathering dust in the attic.  

Of course, this didn't happen.

After six years of usage in the yard of our home in Mandeville, Louisiana, and at numerous observing sessions of the Ponchartrain Astronomy Society of New Orleans, the little Sears telescope was on the verge of falling apart; my enthusiasm for the hobby (and a little youthful impatience) had worn out the mounting and tripod, and my incomplete knowledge of the 'scopes' proper care had done some minor damage to the tube and optics.

In the summer of 1978, gathering my savings and collecting the monies earned by working the summer before on my uncle Sterlings' fishing boat (I'm pretty certain that he over-paid me), I went shopping for a more capable instrument.   (Looking back I find it interesting that I wasn't thinking of an "upgrade" so much as a replacement for my first 'scope; by this I mean that I seem not to have been infected at that time by that dreaded-but-oh-so-pleasant disease of the amateur astronomer, "aperture fever", which draws the observer to seek larger and larger telescopes and mountings until they strain both lower back and bank balance!)

 

A Touch of Glass

The telescope I settled on was the Bushnell refractor mentioned previously, no larger or even more powerful than my old Sears 'scope, but with a substantially heftier and more capable mounting and tripod and much better optics.  This last point was brought home to me on the first night "out" with my new instrument--lunar craters and maria were much better-resolved, and giant planet Jupiter revealed for the first time not only his four bright moons but the thin parallel lines of cloud bands girdling his equator!

From the moment of "first light"--that initial glimpse of the Cosmos through a new telescope--I was in love.  And, like any young couple in love, we went nearly everywhere together!  From observing planets in my backyard in Mandeville to splitting double stars in the Florida Everglades, spotting my first asteroid (4 Vesta) under Flagstaff's clear skies and watching a lunar eclipse in the heavens above Newport News once I'd joined the Navy...the Bushnell 'scope vastly expanded my astronomical horizons over the next eight years.  My experiences using this telescope under skies across the country over nearly a decade certainly helped shape my perspectives as an amateur astronomer, and I think they also made me a much better observer, more appreciative of every opportunity to get out there under the stars.

All Good Things...

Every love story, it seems, must have a tragic moment; a tearful goodbye or revelation upon which the tale turns.  In the case of myself and the Astro 400, this came in the Autumn of 1986; after a brief separation from the Navy I was about to embark on my second enlistment. The petty officer who deserves credit for making this happen was one Gary S., then serving at the Navy recruiting office in Flagstaff.  A fine Shipmate and good friend, he made the process of returning to uniformed service easy and even enjoyable, not only signing me up but putting me to work talking to potential new recruits about the benefits and downsides of naval service.

When the time to ship-out came, I asked Gary to look after my telescope while I got back into the Navy groove.  He agreed, and I packed-up and left the telescope with him when I departed for San Diego in the first week of September.  And that was the last time I saw the Astro 400...

A few months later, with my career re-booted (and, incidentally, recently engaged to the lovely Lucy Prochazka of Ardmore, Pennsylvania--but that is another post!) assigned to a ship sailing out of Virginia, I wrote to my mother and had her contact Gary to coordinate the shipping of my goods from Flagstaff to Newport News, where Lucy and I were busy building our lives together.  

At this point something went wrong; when my boxed belongings arrived via Greyhound there was no telescope.  When contacted, my mother told me that all the boxes had shipped.  I'm not certain why I didn't try calling the recruiting offices then--I think that perhaps I had already given up on the idea of ever seeing my refractor again--but in the build-up to our wedding and the separation of our first shipboard deployment as husband and wife I think it finally slipped my mind altogether.

The years flew by...

 

The Ghost of Solstices Past

Only a month or so ago I was surprised to receive an email from Gary.  He had run across All @ Sea! and recognized my style in the posts he read--it seems that I write in much the same fashion as I speak--and so made contact with a "are you the same person who..." email.  I was of course amazed to hear from him after a quarter-century--and further thrilled to learn that he still had in his possession my old 60mm telescope, and was prepared to ship it immediately!

Consider for a moment my old friends' dedication; I left my instrument with him for what I expected to be (at most) a few months, and he took excellent care of it for over twenty-six years!  I am reminded of the stories you hear about letters delivered decades after being mailed and beloved pets finding their ways home across hundreds of miles of wilderness.  

To say that I am grateful is a major understatement.

I came home on a weekend's liberty a few days after Christmas, excited to be back from the Persian Gulf and Arabian Sea and looking forward to three days in the company of my wonderful wife Lucy and our small but energetic menagerie of an English Bulldog and two cats.  But I will confess here that another reunion filled me with almost as much anticipation as the long-awaited return to the bosom of my family, for waiting in the wings was a familiarly-sized box, recently arrived from Oregon.  

In my own defense I will state here that I did not leave Lucy in the lurch upon arrival; I managed to resist until after her welcoming embrace and our exchange of holiday gifts the draw of that well-wrapped parcel!  When the time came I was very pleased by what I found; the Bushnell 'scope had weathered well the decades of storage as Gary moved from place to place, shifting it from storage unit to garage to yet another unit.

My fingers moved by instinct, it seemed, the long years of separation forgotten as I assembled my old observing companion.  In a few minutes my old refractor stood before me in the living room, needing only a good cleaning and some lubrication of the mounting and focuser before it would be able to return to full duty.  A trial run outside was impossible due the overcast night, but I'm willing to wait a few more weeks for that second "First Light".

The Once and Future 'Optik Tube'

Now that the Banner 400 is restored to me, what will I do with it?  As capable as it is, it now stands as the smallest member of my observing collection--the 120mm APO refractor I use these days is double the Bushnell 'scopes' aperture and five times its weight, and my 8-inch reflector telescope also dwarfs it in size and light-gathering power.  In other words, the tiny refractor that aided me in my entry into observing is seriously out-classed.

However, for its type and size it continues to be useful.  I suspect that I'll fix the '400' up and perform a few modifications (the finder scope especially needs an upgrade), keeping it handy for those evenings when I feel like a quick look at the moon or a few double stars, and for when newcomers to astronomy join me at the altar of the stars; the telescope that got me started may yet inspire others to turn their eyes toward the heavens, and that strikes me as a perfect way for this particular telescope tale to continue.

The story goes on.

 

The photos in this post were all taken of the Bushnell Banner 400

on the morning of 29 December 2012. 

 

 



'Til the Stars Fall from the Sky

Hello Fellow Stargazers!

I just wanted to invite all of you to join me tomorrow night (specifically, Thursday night into Friday morning) to observe the Geminid Meteor shower. This is an impressive display under almost any conditions but this year’s shower takes place at the "dark 'o' the moon" so that under clear, dark skies we should see more than a hundred “shooting stars” an hour around the peak time of midnight to early AM on the 14th. More useful info here.

Most major meteor showers are associated with comets; the particles of dust and ice that enter our atmosphere to produce natures' fireworks show are debris left along their orbits. The Geminids, however, seem to spring from asteroid 3200, or Phaeton. As we’ve discovered with unmanned flyby, orbital, and even landing missions on a handful of Asteroids, they are all different, and Phaeton is a real winner; it has an orbit around the sun which strongly resembles that of a comet, but spectrographic studies with earthbound telescopes indicate some pretty typical asteroidal materials making it up. One theory is that Phaeton is a large comet that has exhausted it’s store of "volatiles" (ices and other materials that can sublimate and form a comet's distinctive tail) and now zips around the sun leaving a trail of clay-ey deposits in its wake. We may not know for sure until a spacecraft gets out there to take a look—and that could be a while, yet!

I'll be watching (weather permitting) from Supply's bridge wings, here in the central Mediterranean, and I hope as many of you who can do so will be out there under the stars for what promises to be a spectacular show. Dress warmly and be safe out there--not only is it nice to have a friend out there to share the stars with, it just makes sense to have an "observing buddy". Even if you only go out in the evening hours, you are likely to see quite a few of these bright visitors from space—last night I watched from 8PM to 11PM and saw over twenty!

Enjoy the show!

Tom Epps
Resident Astronomer
USNS Supply (T-AOE 6)
Mediterranean Sea

A Sailor Looks at Fifty

"Mother Mother Ocean, I have heard your call. Dreamed of Sailing upon your Waters Since I was Three Feet Tall"
--J. Buffett, "A Pirate Looks at Forty" (1974)

USNS Bridge T-AOE 10, Persian Gulf

 
This morning Supply cruises southward in the Gulf of Oman through a light chop under overcast skies. Only yesterday we were dodging dhows and offshore supply vessels in the southern Persian Gulf but last midnight we transited the southbound narrows of the Strait of Hormuz, leaving the traffic, dust and smokey haze of those waters behind. Now, for the first time since I checked aboard five weeks ago we can see the actual horizon; that sharp line of demarcation between grey sea and equally grey sky. That border seems weirdly empty; no dhows, no clusters of offshore platforms with their giant natural gas burnoff torches held aloft on spindly steel arms, no murky hydrocarbon-based filter to give every bright light an orange halo, the very sun an amber tint.

Now the razor-sharp horizon is interrupted only by the upperworks of tankers and container ships bound for Muskat, for Bandar Abbas, for Al Fujairah. They are easily spotted at distances of fifteen to twenty miles from Supply's high bridge wings, a sure indicator of the air's clarity--not that we watchstanders need such a gauge to tell us we are free of the 'Gulf's influence. We breathe deep of the clean air, savor it like fine wine, throw open the bridge wing windows to the cleansing breezes that tell us that we are no longer prisoners of a sour, dirty inland sea, but that we have broken free, that our ship carries us into deeper, wilder waters. That we are--finally--on the open sea where we belong.

Where I belong.

In the tiny cubicle in which much of my off-watch time is spent reading, writing and sleeping I keep an old, blue-tinted plastic folder. In this well-worn receptacle are the many documents that I am required to carry with me on every voyage, those pieces of paper and card that proclaim me an American Citizen, an accredited Merchant Mariner, and a member in good standing of the Seafarer's International Union. Other papers affirm my qualifications as a fork-lift driver, a helmsman and winch operator, and verify the most recent dates of my refresher training in fire-fighting, small arms, security tactics and first aid. In other words, the contents of this folder summarize my legal status and training as a Mariner.

But they do something else; they reveal a timeline of my career to date. Here are the DoD Forms DD214 that describe in succinct if sterile terms my 24 years' service in the United States Navy and Navy Reserve. Here the copies of training certificates, scanned awards, medals and letters of commendation. This is a summary of my retirement benefits form the Navy and Veterans' Administration, this a collection of evaluations from Chief Mates and Captains over the past ten years. And here, perhaps most important to me right now, is a plastic document protector containing my sea-time letters, the true summary of a life at sea.

"Seventy-six men sailed up into San Francisco Bay, Rolled off of their ship and here's what they had to say..."
--Blues Image, "Ride Captain Ride" (1970)

USNS Joshua Humpreys T-AO 188, Persian Gulf

 My career at sea began in April of 1981 when I reported aboard my first Navy ship at the base in Norfolk. I remember a windy, wet day as I carried my seabag up Pier 24, and also the anticipation coursing through me when I first looked upon USS Moinester, the Knox-class frigate that would be my home for the next four-and-a-half years. The Ensign snapped to the zephyr, the 1MC muttered incomprehensible announcements and a working party toiled on the pier, passing boxes of canned goods up the brow to the midships quarterdeck. And I remember as if it were yesterday the moment when, directing my best salute first toward the flag and then the Officer of the Deck, I requested permission to come aboard.

That was thirty-two years and twenty-three vessels ago, and still the thrill of that first boarding persists whenever I join a new command. Adding-up my sea-time I find that I've spent over twenty-two years attached to one ship or another; frigate or tugboat, offshore supply boat or guided-missile cruiser, destroyer, communications ship or crewboat...all are separate chapters in my memory, all special in one way or another, and all bring to mind voyages, adventures and misadventures, and the many Shipmates I have known through the years.

Ships: Peterson, Wave Tide, Mount Whitney, Clark. Noble names like Normandy and ridiculous ones like Elephante Grande. Moinester and Rebecca Tide, Ramzi River, Joshua Humphreys, Arctic, and Daigle Tide and many more still sail in my thoughts as I think back across the many years. Mostly they have been good ships, well-founded and -manned. Occasionally, however...

Sailors: Pete Leenhouts, Rich Wood, Pat Fennerty, "Chip" Boyd, Billy Howard, Dave Baird, and Frank DeMasi; Bobby Batchelder and Jon Mellow, Vic Martino, Rebecca Anlage and "Lee" Trevino, James Achey, Jason Ivey and Max Pettit, Tom Laipple and Brian Frye. Steve Godfroy, Bill Jones and Bernie Plancinis, Oliver Evans and Larry Lewandowski, "Doc" Bryant, Tom Rorie and The Tedinator. Shipmates and companions all on the long voyages, sharing the excitement and the boredom of mid-watches and anchor details, the fury of storms at sea, the raucous and quiet moments in port; these are only a very few of the names that spring to mind, just a sampling of the memories I treasure.

"Where it all ends I can't fathom, my friends; if I could I might throw out my anchor..."
--J. Buffett, "Son of a Son of a Sailor" (1978)

USS Dwight D. Eisenhower CVN-69

Along the way, through all the long watches and lonely nights spent far from those I love, I find that my enthusiasm and love of the sea, the great ships, and the men and women that sail in them has never diminished, never faltered. A hundred times my joy in the moment of casting off lines has been mistaken by "old salts" as a naive "landlubbers" notion, something that, sooner or later, I will "get over". This hasn't happened, not in over thirty years of navigating the deep waters of the world, and I expect it never will. Mother Ocean still calls....

Tom Epps
Able Seaman
USNS Supply
Arabian Sea

Reporting for duty!

Hello Everyone!

Arrived in good order last week—the flight from D.C. to Bahrain was relatively painless for a change as I slept clear across the Atlantic and much of Europe—and am now settling-in nicely aboard Supply. She is a near-twin of my old ship Arctic (Supply is the elder sister-ship), differing only in minor interior detail, so becoming acclimated to my new home @ sea has been pretty easy. Even the differences between “8” and “6” are so minor that the feeling is less one of being aboard a new ship as it is a sense of coming home again.


The crew is first-rate and I even know many of them (including the Captain) from previous voyages together, so the first couple of days were a nearly continuous session of “whatever happened to whatsisname” and “remember when” discussions! Several times I’ve had fellow voyagers from previous ships walk up to me, take my hand, and welcome me BACK aboard—when I had never even set foot aboard this ship before last Sunday!

It has also been quite easy to get into the swing of things on watch. I’m assigned to an experienced, professional watch team of four Mariners under the direction of the ship’s Navigator, and already we’ve taken each other’s measures…and the news is all good. I’m going to enjoy working with these guys, and I expect to learn a great deal from them.

Astronomically things are looking up as well (ouch!); with the coming of Autumn to the Gulf the triple-digit temperatures have moderated and the skies have been clearing—much of that yellow dust precipitating out—and already since I’ve been here we’ve had a couple of beautiful nights! Of course I brought along my 10x50 binoculars and a heavy photo-tripod (telescopes simply aren’t practical in this venue—I’ve tried and it just isn’t worth the effort of toting the equipment around the world) with a binocular adapter, plus my bino solar filters, and have already put them to work.

The other evening I hosted a small ‘star party’ on deck and had a dozen of the crew up there examining the Hunter’s Moon (the October full moon), and I’m planning another get-together later this month for the Leonid meteor shower. In other words, I’m up to my old tricks, “pushing” starlight!

To summarize my first week & a half aboard USNS Supply (T-AOE 6); I think I’m gonna like it here. More to come!

Tom Epps
Able Seaman
USNS Supply
Persian Gulf

"Ready In All Respects..."

Newport News
Bags packed and set out on the porch, passport securely tucked in jacket pocket, taxi en route; in a few minutes I'll start out on yet another voyage in yet another ship.  It's been over two months since I've felt felt the roll of a hull and heard the whine of engines beneath my feet, and it's time to return to that world.  I'm ready.

And even now, with over two decades' time cruising in a dozen types of vessel behind me, I can feel the old tension building within me.  It is a familiar sensation, composed in part of curiosity about my new ship and my future duties within her and in part of anticipation--the pleasurable mixture of expectation, the tingle of worry that every new employee in a strange company, every new suitor on the first date is has known.

Will I measure up to my new command and Captain's standards?  Will this be a good "fit" of mariner and vessel or a "square peg" situation?  Will I be happy as a member of Supply's crew or will I count down the weeks and months until, disappointed and disillusioned, I can carry my gear down her gangway?

In other words, will this nautical Blind Date be the successful beginning to a new chapter in my seagoing career?  I certainly hope so, but I've sailed enough to know that sometimes it doesn't happen that way.  I can only do my best, whatever position I find myself in, and wear my "game face"..

My cab is here, and it's time to go.

Mare Est Vita Mea!

Arachno-philia?

Newport News

For the past few weeks, as I've applied my limited handyman-skills to our little house in Virginia, I've fought various battles against ants, bees, and the American Cockroach.  In all of these engagements against household invaders I've felt that I occupied a kind of moral high ground, harboring a sense that, unlike my insect opponents I belonged there, and had the right to use force (often deadly force) to unseat them from their accustomed habitats.

Not so with this particular denizen of the Epps manse...

This beautiful spider set up shop just a few days after I arrived from New York, spinning her web immediately outside my den window.  Day after day as I dealt with paperwork or un-tangled the interesting tale of our former tenants (since evicted as they felt dis-inclined to pay their agreed--and quite reasonable--monthly rent), I'd glance up and out from my desk to watch her getting her house in order, snaring her next meal, or resting with legs curled tightly about 1/2-inch carapace, resembling an orange diamond when she did so. 

Perhaps it is reflective of the loneliness of my "geo-bachelor" existence (Lucy has remained in New York as we prepare to move south whilst I returned to duty) that I developed something of a friendly relationship with this arachnid--friendly on my part, anyway.  I was careful not to disturb her web when cleaning outside the den or mowing the grass, and cheered in her favor whenever a wandering Anopheles or beetle flew too close to her sticky snare.

I have always been fascinated by spiders--the larger and hairier the better.  Considering my history with eight-legged critters (I was bitten by a Brown Recluse about ten years ago--it's necrotic venom dissolved a sugar-cube-sized portion of my chest.  A disgusting experience, and quite painful as well!) one might expect that I'd be trying to squash "Charlotte" rather than photographing her.  Despite this past , I find myself examining webs and following Wolf Spiders through the grass, enraptured by the quick movements, the acrobatics, the various habits of these creatures.

Unfortunately, all good things must end.  Yesterday I noticed that my "roomie"s web hung empty and un-kept, and a careful search of the side of the house revealed no clue as to her whereabouts.  The nights grow cooler, and insects less numerous than only a few days ago; she might already be wintering-over, waiting for spring's warmth to return.

Maybe I'll see her next year.

Supply Run...

Norfolk, Virginia
Well, here I am, back on duty!  Checked-in to the "Pool" of mariners available for assignment on Tuesday morning, updated my medical and training status--and was almost immediately called to the Admin side of the shop to accept orders! (I suppose I should be flattered...and I am!)

I'll be flying out next week to meet my new ship in the Persian Gulf region...USNS Supply (T-AOE 6).  She's the slightly elder sister of my old friend Arctic, and so ought to be quite similar to T-AOE 8 in layout.  She certainly LOOKS a lot like my old "mistress"...

Sisters in HY-100: Supply seen from Arctic's bridge-wing

I'm looking forward to getting aboard and learning what similarities--and differences--there are between these ships--no matter how cookie-cutter they may look on the outside there are always unique features, and of course a different Captain and crew to get to know and learn to work with.  Just as with Arctic back in 2005 and Joshua Humphreys earlier this year, a great part of the fun of this life @ sea lies in experiencing the endless diversity of  ships and shipmates, and in learning how best to contribute to that synergy of steel and humanity that makes up the community of a vessel on business upon great waters.

But before I can come to know and find my niche in Supply I first must meet the ship in a distant port.  The journey begins in one weeks' time...

Stay tuned--this ought to be good!