Morning Lights

"I became an astronomer not to learn the facts about
the sky but to feel its majesty."- David Levy

Terrific night! I awoke at 0300, looked outside at
the beautiful, clear sky, and decided I didn't need
THAT much sleep. A few minutes later I was on the
bridge-wing enjoying the view of Mars, Saturn and
Antares low in the west, Perseus rising in the east,
and the broad, bifurcated stream of the Milky Way
forming a river of starlight seeming to connect them.

I am fortunate whilst at sea to have access to some
of the darkest night skies on Earth; the downside to
this is that telescopes don't work well aboard ship
(too much ocean motion). So the irony here is that my
"observatory" has amazing skies but that I'm limited
to binocular and naked-eye observation of the wonders
thus presented. It's been this way for me since I
first went to sea (36 years ago), and only
occasionally do I feel that particular pain...

Like this morning, with skies so transparent and
seeing so good that my observing journal entry reads
"Outstanding!!!" in both respects. Standing on the
slowly-moving deck, feeling the diesels throbbing a
hundred feet below, hearing the rush of water along
the hull and the lookout making a report to the watch
officer a few yards away in the wheelhouse, I stood
transfixed by the sight of the Triangulum Galaxy
(M33), the great Globular Cluster in Hercules (M13)
and Galaxy M81 in Ursa Major revealed to my
unassisted eyes. I could clearly discern the North
American Nebula near Deneb as well as the jumble of
clotted starlight running down the course of the
Milky Way toward Sagittarius, each knot a cluster or
nebula.

I think that had I had binoculars or a small
telescope with me this morning I would have been
wrong to utilize them; a sky this rare, this
fantastic would lose something precious under
magnification!

I must have stood out there for nearly an hour--it
seemed only a few minutes--for suddenly I realized
that the light of dawn was beginning to overcome the
blaze of Capella, newly arrived on the stage. Shaking
off the chill that had settled unknown upon me, I
found the spell of the perfect sky already broken by
the glow of coming day. I found that Mars had
vanished into the southwest and that Saturn was
fading in turn.

The enchantment dispelled, my last sight before
laying below to prepare for the new day was a flash
of white light in Andromeda; a bright meteor leaving
a persistent trail behind it as it headed northwest
into Ursa Minor. A lovely finale, indeed--and perhaps
a promise for tomorrow morning?

Rocket Gibraltar

We have transited the Strait of Gibraltar eastbound,
passing between the Pillars of Hercules into the
Mediterranean Sea. The Pillars, of course, represent
the high peaks of the Spanish coast on the northern
side of the Strait and the amazing, rugged highlands
on the Moroccan coast to the South. Gibraltar itself
dominates the transit, becoming visible as you
complete a long turn northeast and head into the
Alboran. Always an impressive sight.

Geography lesson aside, let me venture a few personal
observations and perhaps pedantic thoughts. To me
this waterway has long been symbolic of my travels
and adventures over the past thirty years, and of the
thousands of years of sea-faring history that made
Europe what it is. The Minoans, Phoenicians,
Egyptians, Greeks, etc…all made voyages of trade and
exploration on these waters, and empires rose and
fell on the outcomes of the many naval battles that
shattered ships and men. Trafalgar, Cape St. Vincent,
the Malta Convoys, Operation Torch, all echo across
time as we cruise into the Strait. I hear the crash
of broadsides, imagine the "feathers" of U-Boat
periscopes in the dark waters of the Approaches, and
feel the trepidation and fear of Columbus' crews as
his small fleet began it's momentous, world-altering
voyage.

I first made this passage in late 1981 as a fresh
Seaman Apprentice aboard a small, under-armed
frigate; I remember standing my station as lookout
and wondering what the big deal was, why this
particular piece of water was any more significant
than any other. Over the years and cruises that
followed I became familiar with names like Nelson and
Cunningham, places such as Casablanca and Rota, and
my appreciation for this busy waterway increased. By
the time I actually visited Gibraltar in 1988 (on my
fourth deployment) and climbed the famous Rock, the
arrival at the Bay of Cadiz and the Strait had become
an important personal event. Today I cannot even
count the number of times I've transited the safety
fairway, east- and west-bound, but the total must be
in the hundreds.

So, after a bit of nattering-on, a few hours of
close-quarters sailing amongst the many merchantmen
steaming through with us, and the thrill, once more,
of seeing the stark beauty of the peaks of Morocco,
the lofty heights of Fortress Gibraltar, moving from
the Atlantic to the Mediterranean and all the
adventures that lie ahead, I close this entry with an
image in my mind of a tremendous fleet of phantom
ships manned by ghostly mariners from across the
millennia. Not a Flying Dutchman, not mariners
condemned for sins real or imagined, but the souls of
thousands upon thousands of Sailors whose joy in the
doing, and dreams of the voyage ahead, match mine as
we sail together into the future as kindred spirits
of the sea.

"A Big Fish"...USS Dwight D. Eisenhower

I've been sailing with aircraft carriers for most of
my adult life; either in escort vessels, there to
protect the "high value unit" from enemy submarine or
air attack, or in ammunition ships and oilers,
accompanying the Battle Group (in modern parlance;
Strike Group)to provide material support for their
missions. The common factor in all these voyages has
been that distinctive silhouette on the horizon or
the imposing bulk alongside, the "Voice Of God" (or
at least the Admiral commanding the formation) coming
over the radio speakers on the bridge and the scream
of high-performance jet aircraft overhead as the
"bird farm" exercises her planes and pilots.

As an Operations Specialist coming up through the
ranks in frigates and destroyers I often saw these
behemoths in negative terms. The carrier at the
center of the disposition was alternately a source of
frustration as they issued maneuvering instructions
to the Group in seemingly whimsical fashion ("March
and Counter-March" all day and every day for weeks or
even months on end) or paranoia as that 100,000-ton
ship could suddenly and unexpectedly turn toward us,
closing the distance with terrifying speed--and we
all knew who would win in a collision. There was a
reason for that uncomplimentary nickname bestowed
upon carriers by destroyer sailors; "Can-Opener".

As I and my tactical abilities matured I came to be
familiar with the particular methods and madness of
these sea-going airfields. Understanding their
apparently berserker behavior had to come with
experience; knowing how to anticipate that blade and
dodge its thrusts was a function of situational
awareness and judgement in seeing the threat before
it WAS a threat and taking avoiding action promptly
to avoid an abruptly raised pucker-factor.

When I was actually working in Naval Aviation I began
to better understand the aircraft carrier; learning
its capabilities and limitations. Today, working to
provide them with parts, fuel and personnel on the
high seas, my perspective continues to broaden; I see
these massive ships not as sources of frustration or
fear but as the complicated weapons-systems that they
are; wielding enormous firepower and impressive
technology over vast distances, managed and commanded
by mere human beings who can rise to glory or fall
from grace based entirely upon the qualities that
make them human.

USS Roosevelt (DDG-80) Alongside USNS Big Horn (T-AO 198)

USS Roosevelt--named for both Franklin and
Eleanor--alongside USNS Big Horn, rolling easily in
the rising seas as she tops-off her bunkers through
the thick hoses slung between their hulls. The
destroyer appeared out of the dawn mists an hour ago
and soon, sated, she'll break away to vanish again,
racing across the swells to the horizon.

As providers of fuel and supplies to the Fleet we
aren't usually privy to the missions our charges are
embarked upon; our task is simply to be at the
appointed rendezvous and to pump the fuel, high-line
the cargo, and transfer the personnel they need to
carry out their assigned tasks.

When the great carriers and their Strike Groups
depart Mayport, San Diego and Norfolk on their
voyages of "national interest" on the great waters of
the world, our ships--the oilers, refrigerated cargo
ships, and ammo ships--go along with them. Rarely
are we mentioned in media coverage of the Group's
departure; we don't get massive send-offs or even
"Welcome Home" celebrations as the men 'o' war do.
And this is fitting; the Carriers, Cruisers and
Destroyers go forth to carry out their missions and
possibly to risk all in the effort; we simply go
along to make that journey possible.

Quick Post: Friday Night at York River

York River State Park--The Wetlands

An excellent night's observing at York River State Park near Williamsburg. Six of us took advantage of the weather and set up 'scopes near the visitors center. Joining us were new members Lori and Steve who brought their excellent 4.4" table-top Newtonian to be checked out and to experience their own "first light" with it. In addition Carl, a young Ameri-Corps volunteer working at the park, made an invaluable contribution to the proceedings by hanging a cover over an intrusive nearby light.

 

My 10" Dob and observing set-up

It really WAS a beautiful night--something we all needed after the past month of wet and murky weather--and all hands bent to their respective eyepieces with enthusiasm! I found myself hunting galaxies and globulars--M104 and M13 were truly spectacular through my 10" Dob (pictured), though at one point I went off on a double star tangent with v Draconis and Alcor/Mizar and Albireo!

Steve and Lori with their new "Newt"

With moonrise the party broke up, and it was a group of happy astronomers who bade each other goodbye and set off to make their separate ways home. I learned an important lesson at this point about leaving car windows open whilst observing, and drove home with all my windows down so the cool midnight air could flush the hundreds of tiny (thankfully non-biting) insects that had colonized my vehicle while I enjoyed the skies!

Waiting for the night...

Thanks to all who came to join us last night at YRSP; and special thanks to Bill who arranged this rather impromptu star party with the Park rangers, Carl who turned oppressive light into blessed darkness with a carefully-placed trash bag, and of course the good folks at York River State Park and Virginia State Parks who support our stargazing activities with enthusiasm!

 "I would rather freeze and fight off mosquitoes than play astronomy on a computer"--Ben Funk, Jr.

Quick Post: Telescope #8

A little solar observing at Mariner's Museum Park

I drove across the water to Norfolk the other day to help a fellow with his telescope. He was trying to use WAY too much magnification and was very disappointed in what his 'scope showed him. I tried to talk him down from that ledge but it turned out that he'd already made up his mind to give up on observing for now. At the end of the evening he pretty much THREW his ETX-90RA at me! So now I have yet another Mak-Cas telescope--and an impressive set of eyepieces and other accessories--for the price of two hours' driving and a stop on the way home at Subway!

By a strange co-incidence I've been thinking lately about a travel-scope...an inexpensive unit to carry overseas when the Navy sends me to one tanker or another! It is truly amazing how steady the air can get in Bahrain...

I've been out for a couple of sessions of solar observing and I'm happy with the scope's tracking capabilities, but it's a bit off optically. Well, on my next deployment I'll have plenty of time available to check and correct (if necessary) its collimation.

Astronomy Day 2016

Yesterday (Saturday) was a lot of fun; in the early afternoon I set up my newest 'scope acquisition--a twenty-year-old ETX-90RA--on a picnic table in Mariners Museum Park and spent a couple of hours enticing passersby to pause for a look at the Sun and a massive sunspot just making it's way 'round our star's limb into view, and come evening I drove over to the Virginia Living Museum (VLM) to participate in their monthly star party.  I joined Derek Hanak of the Museum on the courtyard lawn to man the telescopes as the evening thunderstorm cleared and stars came into view. 

Derek actually managed two instruments--a massive SCT reflector and more compact 80mm refractor, while I set up my Mak-Cas reflector a few yards away.  I concentrated on the 9-day-old Moon whilst he focused on Jupiter (later, after Saturn had risen, he used the 80mm to show the Lord of the Rings off to good effect).  While there was a fair breeze the viewing didn't suffer significantly, and all comers expressed appreciation for the views of planets and our natural satellite.

I know that several folks were manning scopes at the observatory, but I never ran up there to see what was going on; actually, I was having so much fun I never even thought to!

We ran the scopes, with brief pauses for bathroom breaks and an explodey battery pack (still haven't figured that one out!), from just after 1900 until nearly midnight, when a fairly thick layer of low cloud was moving in.  I don't know how many folks took advantage of the opportunity to star-gaze  last night, but I'd guess that at least thirty people viewed the waxing gibbous Moon thru my little 'scope--which makes for a pretty satisfying Outreach event, by my lights!

"Astronomy is good for people's souls"--Deborah Byrd