I'll be waiting...
Sunday, July 17, 2016
Movie Night...The Nautical & Naval Film Survey!
I'll be waiting...
Tuesday, July 12, 2016
2001-2003: Under The Volcano
Under the Volcano I
Motta, Sicily
16 December 2001
I awoke on a bone-shakingly cold Saturday morning, my breath clouding the air as I struggled to burrow deeper into the too-thin bedclothes. I was wearing sweatpants, sweatshirt and even my navy-issue peacoat against the chill, but the creeping cold seemed an implacable foe, denying comfort to the weary traveler. Cursing in the dark, I arose to adjust the thermostat but its inexplicable notations and controls left me only more frustrated, as had the shower the evening before.
Only a day before I had been in the company of my dear wife Lucy as we left our small house in Newport News; the weather had been almost balmy for mid-December as she said goodbye as we had done so many times in the course of my Navy career. Then, the long trans-atlantic flight, the confusing and anxious arrival, and finally being shuffled ignominiously to this icy room in a tiny village had taken their toll upon me; I was tired, cold, frustrated and angry.
It was still dark outside, but I could sit shivering in my cell no longer. I let myself out, making sure I had my key and passport, and stared out upon shadowy buildings bordering a barren, stone-paved street across which the chill breeze blew paper trash and carried a dozen unfamiliar and unpleasant odors. Picking a direction at random, I started to walk uphill. It didn't matter, after all, where I wandered in my misery.
It was my first morning in Sicily, and I desperately wanted to go home.
*****
The New Age
R/V Fairfield Explorer
11 September 2001
Everyone has a 9-11 story. Just as it was to our grandparents and parents with the Japanese attack on Oahu and the assasination of JFK, today we talk about where we were, what we were doing, and how we first learned of the events of 11 September 2001. My own 9-11 tale is pretty short; I slept through it. On that historic morning I was aboard the research vessel 'Fairfield Explorer', well out on the Gulf of Mexico, and having stood the eight-hour "midwatch" the night before I was blissfully unaware of the attacks on the Pentagon and World Trade Center until after I awoke at 1100 Central Time.
After rising I took a shower and returned to my small stateroom, then turned on CNN to catch up on the morning's news. As I dressed for lunch I thought that I had mistakenly tuned-in a horror film; my initial experience of the morning's madness was an image of a dust-shrouded street with zombie-like figures staggering toward the camera. There was also a recurrent image; footage of a commercial airliner plunging into the side of a skyscraper, but I was in a hurry and switched-off the TV.
By the time I wandered down to the mess deck for lunch, I could feel a difference in the atmosphere aboard ship. I ought to have noticed it even earlier--to awake at 1100 without the rattle of pneumatic tools or whine of winches on deck, or even the noise of steel-toe clad crew members pounding up or down the bridge ladder outside my room should have alerted me to a change in the vessel. Now, the shocked quiet belowdecks sent a clear signal that something was amiss.
The mess deck--where at that hour most of the crew could be expected to be gathered at the meal-hour--was empty, the ship's lounge however was filled standing-room-only with Shipmates and roustabouts, Deckies and Snipes together watching the same footage I had seen on my stateroom screen. Finally the reality, the enormity of images I had dismissed a few minutes earlier as world-class special effects dawned on me; I watched again and again as airliners collided with doomed buildings, as buildings I had once visited imploded on the screen. I listened in horror as a CNN talking head repeated the decade's most shocking headline, and realized that the world had changed whilst I slept, that nothing would ever be the same for any of us.
*****
A Rumor of War
Newport News, Virginia
04 December 2001
When the news came that the space shuttle 'Challenger' had exploded upon launch I was busily constructing a plastic model of that very spacecraft. Likewise, news of the suicide of Admiral Jeremy Michael Boorda came over the radio only minutes after I'd hung his eight-by-ten photo on the wall of my den. This is of course mere coincidence; I have no precognitive or prophetic powers. As proof I offer the following: when the telephone rang that morning I was in the middle of shaving.
"Hello?"
"Hullo! is this Tom Epps?"
"Yes it is..."
"Petty Officer Epps, YOU'VE been mobilized! Come on down!"
And that was that. With a verbal game-show flourish an overworked Petty Officer at the Little Creek Naval Reserve Center had officially informed me of my new status.
The transition came quickly and easily. By the time I had copied my reporting instructions down and assured the PO that I understood and would carry them out my mind had completed the switch from "weekend warrior" to active duty Sailor. It would be several days before I was issued a new seabag and uniform items, but mentally I was already in Dress Blues. I was back in uniform. Even if I did need to finish shaving.
And so it came to be that in the third week of December 2001 I found myself bundled unceremoniously aboard a chartered airliner and on my way across the Atlantic Ocean; the aircraft was filled with mobilized Reservists like myself; drawn from the deck and shipped to wherever the Powers That Be perceived a need for our services. Citizen Soldiers, Airmen, Marines and Sailors; enlisted and commissioned, young and...not so young.
*****
Under the Volcano II
Motta, Sicily
16 December 2001
The road I wandered rose in a shallow incline. The cold wind cut through my jeans like an icy blade; only my heavy peacoat and watch-cap served to dull it's edge. Dawn was coming, its glow visible above the rooftops and in the reflections of wet cobblestones. Though I had little idea of where I was, I had been walking eastward through Motta fpr perhaps half an hour; I'd passed through the center of town and was now approaching the high end of the promontory it stood upon.
Ahead of me loomed the shadow of a high wall, and as I approached I found that I'd reached the castle that in centuries past had protected this village. In the growing light I could see the stairs and walkway leading to the parapet; the discovery did nothing to change my mood but gave me yet another avenue to wander in my state of gloom.
As I came to the eastern edge of the battlements the wind rose; raising my collar and lowering my chin I was able to shield my face from the worst of the zephyr. The cold, driving air made me squint and turn my head away to the left...
My eyes opened wide; there, only a few kilometers away, loomed the great cone of Mount Etna, dyed pink in the light of coming dawn, a wisp of steam blowing westward from the volcanos crater. The slope of the great mountain fell toward the sea in the east; I could see the lights of a distant city at its base and another cluster of lights far beyond them. To my right the sun was--there!--emerging from the Ionian sea in a rush of brilliant light and roseate color, the waters of the Ionian Sea shone with reflected fire, and I suddenly understood where I was...
I was standing on the high parapet of a 13th-century fortress, perched on a precipitous cliff-face and looking out over distant hills and fields; within my gaze lay the ancient and the modern, wonders both human and natural from Etna to the Strait of Messina far to the north to Augusta Bay in the south, even the air base where I would soon work was within sight. I wondered at the view, and at my good fortune on being assigned, of all the possible postings in those chaotic early days of the War on Terror, to this remarkable Mediterranean island.
That dawn changed everything. My homesickness evaporated; my miseries fell away in the excitement of working in and exploring this amazing place, gloom shattered by the beauty and hope I had discovered. I knew then that I would plunge into my assigned duties but also take every opportunity to travel this island; Sicily was my new assignment and my new playground as well.
*****
The Sun Also Rises
Motta and Sigonella, Sicily
2001-2003
Of course I had no idea, as I walked back down the slope of Motta toward my apartment, that at the end of my one-year mobilization to Naval Air Station Sigonella I would volunteer to extend for a SECOND year; that my Lucy would fly over twice in that time to explore the island of Sicily and the Italian mainland with me; that we would see the ancient cities of Selinunte and Segesta, and the temples of Agrigento, the ruins of Pompeii and the glories of Rome. I also had no way of knowing that these two years would be not only the finale of my uniformed service but its apex, that I would never work harder, never lead better, and never be more proud of myself, the job I did, and of the active duty and reserve personnel on my team.
What better way to finish 24 years of service, what better climax to the roller-coaster ride of a long Navy career? This "Lifer" certainly can't think of one!
Motta, Sicily
16 December 2001
I awoke on a bone-shakingly cold Saturday morning, my breath clouding the air as I struggled to burrow deeper into the too-thin bedclothes. I was wearing sweatpants, sweatshirt and even my navy-issue peacoat against the chill, but the creeping cold seemed an implacable foe, denying comfort to the weary traveler. Cursing in the dark, I arose to adjust the thermostat but its inexplicable notations and controls left me only more frustrated, as had the shower the evening before.
Only a day before I had been in the company of my dear wife Lucy as we left our small house in Newport News; the weather had been almost balmy for mid-December as she said goodbye as we had done so many times in the course of my Navy career. Then, the long trans-atlantic flight, the confusing and anxious arrival, and finally being shuffled ignominiously to this icy room in a tiny village had taken their toll upon me; I was tired, cold, frustrated and angry.
It was still dark outside, but I could sit shivering in my cell no longer. I let myself out, making sure I had my key and passport, and stared out upon shadowy buildings bordering a barren, stone-paved street across which the chill breeze blew paper trash and carried a dozen unfamiliar and unpleasant odors. Picking a direction at random, I started to walk uphill. It didn't matter, after all, where I wandered in my misery.
It was my first morning in Sicily, and I desperately wanted to go home.
*****
The New Age
R/V Fairfield Explorer
11 September 2001
Everyone has a 9-11 story. Just as it was to our grandparents and parents with the Japanese attack on Oahu and the assasination of JFK, today we talk about where we were, what we were doing, and how we first learned of the events of 11 September 2001. My own 9-11 tale is pretty short; I slept through it. On that historic morning I was aboard the research vessel 'Fairfield Explorer', well out on the Gulf of Mexico, and having stood the eight-hour "midwatch" the night before I was blissfully unaware of the attacks on the Pentagon and World Trade Center until after I awoke at 1100 Central Time.
After rising I took a shower and returned to my small stateroom, then turned on CNN to catch up on the morning's news. As I dressed for lunch I thought that I had mistakenly tuned-in a horror film; my initial experience of the morning's madness was an image of a dust-shrouded street with zombie-like figures staggering toward the camera. There was also a recurrent image; footage of a commercial airliner plunging into the side of a skyscraper, but I was in a hurry and switched-off the TV.
By the time I wandered down to the mess deck for lunch, I could feel a difference in the atmosphere aboard ship. I ought to have noticed it even earlier--to awake at 1100 without the rattle of pneumatic tools or whine of winches on deck, or even the noise of steel-toe clad crew members pounding up or down the bridge ladder outside my room should have alerted me to a change in the vessel. Now, the shocked quiet belowdecks sent a clear signal that something was amiss.
The mess deck--where at that hour most of the crew could be expected to be gathered at the meal-hour--was empty, the ship's lounge however was filled standing-room-only with Shipmates and roustabouts, Deckies and Snipes together watching the same footage I had seen on my stateroom screen. Finally the reality, the enormity of images I had dismissed a few minutes earlier as world-class special effects dawned on me; I watched again and again as airliners collided with doomed buildings, as buildings I had once visited imploded on the screen. I listened in horror as a CNN talking head repeated the decade's most shocking headline, and realized that the world had changed whilst I slept, that nothing would ever be the same for any of us.
*****
A Rumor of War
Newport News, Virginia
04 December 2001
When the news came that the space shuttle 'Challenger' had exploded upon launch I was busily constructing a plastic model of that very spacecraft. Likewise, news of the suicide of Admiral Jeremy Michael Boorda came over the radio only minutes after I'd hung his eight-by-ten photo on the wall of my den. This is of course mere coincidence; I have no precognitive or prophetic powers. As proof I offer the following: when the telephone rang that morning I was in the middle of shaving.
"Hello?"
"Hullo! is this Tom Epps?"
"Yes it is..."
"Petty Officer Epps, YOU'VE been mobilized! Come on down!"
And that was that. With a verbal game-show flourish an overworked Petty Officer at the Little Creek Naval Reserve Center had officially informed me of my new status.
The transition came quickly and easily. By the time I had copied my reporting instructions down and assured the PO that I understood and would carry them out my mind had completed the switch from "weekend warrior" to active duty Sailor. It would be several days before I was issued a new seabag and uniform items, but mentally I was already in Dress Blues. I was back in uniform. Even if I did need to finish shaving.
And so it came to be that in the third week of December 2001 I found myself bundled unceremoniously aboard a chartered airliner and on my way across the Atlantic Ocean; the aircraft was filled with mobilized Reservists like myself; drawn from the deck and shipped to wherever the Powers That Be perceived a need for our services. Citizen Soldiers, Airmen, Marines and Sailors; enlisted and commissioned, young and...not so young.
*****
Under the Volcano II
Motta, Sicily
16 December 2001
The road I wandered rose in a shallow incline. The cold wind cut through my jeans like an icy blade; only my heavy peacoat and watch-cap served to dull it's edge. Dawn was coming, its glow visible above the rooftops and in the reflections of wet cobblestones. Though I had little idea of where I was, I had been walking eastward through Motta fpr perhaps half an hour; I'd passed through the center of town and was now approaching the high end of the promontory it stood upon.
Ahead of me loomed the shadow of a high wall, and as I approached I found that I'd reached the castle that in centuries past had protected this village. In the growing light I could see the stairs and walkway leading to the parapet; the discovery did nothing to change my mood but gave me yet another avenue to wander in my state of gloom.
As I came to the eastern edge of the battlements the wind rose; raising my collar and lowering my chin I was able to shield my face from the worst of the zephyr. The cold, driving air made me squint and turn my head away to the left...
My eyes opened wide; there, only a few kilometers away, loomed the great cone of Mount Etna, dyed pink in the light of coming dawn, a wisp of steam blowing westward from the volcanos crater. The slope of the great mountain fell toward the sea in the east; I could see the lights of a distant city at its base and another cluster of lights far beyond them. To my right the sun was--there!--emerging from the Ionian sea in a rush of brilliant light and roseate color, the waters of the Ionian Sea shone with reflected fire, and I suddenly understood where I was...
I was standing on the high parapet of a 13th-century fortress, perched on a precipitous cliff-face and looking out over distant hills and fields; within my gaze lay the ancient and the modern, wonders both human and natural from Etna to the Strait of Messina far to the north to Augusta Bay in the south, even the air base where I would soon work was within sight. I wondered at the view, and at my good fortune on being assigned, of all the possible postings in those chaotic early days of the War on Terror, to this remarkable Mediterranean island.
That dawn changed everything. My homesickness evaporated; my miseries fell away in the excitement of working in and exploring this amazing place, gloom shattered by the beauty and hope I had discovered. I knew then that I would plunge into my assigned duties but also take every opportunity to travel this island; Sicily was my new assignment and my new playground as well.
*****
The Sun Also Rises
Motta and Sigonella, Sicily
2001-2003
Of course I had no idea, as I walked back down the slope of Motta toward my apartment, that at the end of my one-year mobilization to Naval Air Station Sigonella I would volunteer to extend for a SECOND year; that my Lucy would fly over twice in that time to explore the island of Sicily and the Italian mainland with me; that we would see the ancient cities of Selinunte and Segesta, and the temples of Agrigento, the ruins of Pompeii and the glories of Rome. I also had no way of knowing that these two years would be not only the finale of my uniformed service but its apex, that I would never work harder, never lead better, and never be more proud of myself, the job I did, and of the active duty and reserve personnel on my team.
What better way to finish 24 years of service, what better climax to the roller-coaster ride of a long Navy career? This "Lifer" certainly can't think of one!
 |
| The Temple of Juno in Agrigento |
 |
| Lucy and myself in Taormina |
 |
| Etna erupts! |
Tuesday, July 5, 2016
Please Come to Boston...
 |
| Aboard USS Salem CA-139 |
 |
| USS Constitution in Drydock |
 |
| The 'Fletcher'-class DD USS Cassin Young |
 |
| MV Majesty at Long Wharf |
 |
| Captain Stephen Godfroy |
At this stage I'm worn out after three days of hard-core tourism...It was a great weekend and certainly one of the most enjoyable port-visits I've had in a very long time.Yes, I could have worked all three days of the Holiday weekend and reaped a substantial amount of overtime pay, but I think that taking a little time off was a good idea, and sailing again with an old Shipmate was the best Birthday present I could have received!
Thursday, June 30, 2016
Ship Out Of Water
 |
| USNS Leroy Grumman in drydock, Boston |
Not really.
This is 'Leroy Grumman' in dry-dock. Two months ago I assisted in bringing her in to Boston and placing her hull in the dock; I watched the water being pumped from the huge basin and the hull being revealed, inch by inch. Now, as we labor to make our ship ready for return to the sea, one might be excused for thinking that I'd have grown used to the idea of 'Grumman' as a three-dimensional object, but it isn't really true.
Whenever I go ashore or come back aboard I simply must pause to look at my ship in this unfamiliar position. To see the screws and rudders, bilge-keels and forefoot exposed to my sight seems somehow wrong; even indecent. Removed from the sea there is a vulnerability to my ship's appearance, a kind of betrayed innocence, and I find myself looking forward to the day when this dock will once more fill with water, 'Grumman's keel will lift from the blocks, and she will become once again a thing of the sea, powered and powerful and ready to set out upon great waters with purpose.
Sunday, June 26, 2016
"Skywatch"--ing At Northwest River Park
I was just about to write-up last night's BBAA event in Northwest River Park when Leigh Anne Lagoe's post on the subject popped up on Facebook. She's the Vice President of the BBAA and with her permission I present her report on the event...
What a beautiful night last night at Skywatch in Northwest River Park. I don't know if we ever got an official count, but I overheard that there were over 20 telescopes set up, and possibly over 100 guests that came out. I'll let someone that's better at reports go ahead and give the details.
I arrived at sunset and by then, telescope row was already packed with members as well as new faces. A wide variety of telescopes were prepared for the night ahead.
Jupiter, Mars, and Saturn dazzled everyone. Once it was dark enough, those telescopes started to swing to some deep space objects like M13 (The Great Hercules Cluster), M57 (The Ring Nebula), M27 (The Dumbbell Nebula), some galaxies, double stars, open clusters, and more.
The bright planets stayed within view, offering a variety of objects for us to ogle all night. The Milky Way became more and more prevalent as the night grew darker, and M20 was easily spotted naked eye.
The air cooled down, and despite some humidity, the mosquitoes left me alone for the night (A thick layer of bug spray helped). Lightning bugs all around--twinkling in the trees--as the stars twinkled above. I counted four meteors (that doesn't include the false-alarms that were actually lightning bugs in my peripheral vision).
There was an Iridium flare at 10:48, that showed up on time, as expected, but with the build-up of the crowd, the -1 magnitude brief flare seemed to disappoint. Though, the surprise bright spot in the sky just prior to that flare was far more exciting! Since we don't know what it was, I think the term UFO will fit for now. ;)
Overall, a fantastic outreach event. Thanks to all that made it out.
What a beautiful night last night at Skywatch in Northwest River Park. I don't know if we ever got an official count, but I overheard that there were over 20 telescopes set up, and possibly over 100 guests that came out. I'll let someone that's better at reports go ahead and give the details.
I arrived at sunset and by then, telescope row was already packed with members as well as new faces. A wide variety of telescopes were prepared for the night ahead.
Jupiter, Mars, and Saturn dazzled everyone. Once it was dark enough, those telescopes started to swing to some deep space objects like M13 (The Great Hercules Cluster), M57 (The Ring Nebula), M27 (The Dumbbell Nebula), some galaxies, double stars, open clusters, and more.
The bright planets stayed within view, offering a variety of objects for us to ogle all night. The Milky Way became more and more prevalent as the night grew darker, and M20 was easily spotted naked eye.
The air cooled down, and despite some humidity, the mosquitoes left me alone for the night (A thick layer of bug spray helped). Lightning bugs all around--twinkling in the trees--as the stars twinkled above. I counted four meteors (that doesn't include the false-alarms that were actually lightning bugs in my peripheral vision).
There was an Iridium flare at 10:48, that showed up on time, as expected, but with the build-up of the crowd, the -1 magnitude brief flare seemed to disappoint. Though, the surprise bright spot in the sky just prior to that flare was far more exciting! Since we don't know what it was, I think the term UFO will fit for now. ;)
Overall, a fantastic outreach event. Thanks to all that made it out.
"A night under the stars...rewards the bug bites, the cloudy nights, the next-day fuzzies, and the thousand other frustrations with priceless moments of sublime beauty."--Richard Berry
Friday, June 24, 2016
Open Letter to United Airlines...
 |
| United Airlines Boeing 767-300 (Stock Photo) |
24 June 2016
Sir or Madame,
I find myself compelled to
write regarding a recent travel experience with your airline. While not precisely a letter of complaint, I
hope to stress herein a few points on the subject of aircraft and passenger
safety while detailing both the positive and negative aspects of the narrative.
One initial point I would
like to make clear is that I am not an aviation professional but a 36-year
Sailor and Merchant Mariner; while not knowledgeable on the minutiae of
aircraft systems and procedures I am experienced enough to recognize
professional conduct by transportation personnel and the exercise of safe
practice in the event of unforeseen incidents.
On 19 June 2016, while
returning from U.S. Government business in Crete, I boarded Flight UA125 from
Athens to Newark NJ. Within twenty
minutes of departure the Captain made the announcement that there was a problem
with the 767-300's flaps (they were jammed in the retracted position) and that
the aircraft would be returning to Athens.
Upon completion of a partial fuel dump (which necessitated orbit over
the Aegean Sea) we recovered at Athens, landing at higher-than-normal speed to
compensate for the decreased flap capability of the aircraft. Landing was bumpy but not excessively so, and
within a few minutes all passengers were safely deplaned.
At this point I would like to
recognize the professional performance of the flight crew; Captain Constantino (I believe this was her
name--it is possible that my spelling is incorrect) and her team handled the
incident with skill, also keeping the passengers informed of our progress with
frequent informative and calming announcements.
Once on the ground the cabin crew especially distinguished themselves by
ably managing our exit from the aircraft.
 |
| Dumping Fuel over the Aegean Sea |
After some delay at Athens
Airport the passengers of UA125 were put on buses and transported to the
Metropolitan Hotel in the city. There
adequate lodgings and meal service were provided despite the short notice
involved, and all involved were provided a pleasant environment to relax in
after the day's events.
On the following morning (20
June 2016) the passengers boarded the same aircraft; as I boarded I noted that
mechanics (wearing KLM jumpsuits) were working on the underside of the port
(left) wing on a hydraulic lift platform.
There was some delay while final inspections took place and paperwork
was signed (this announcement was made by the cabin crew), and finally we took
off on our interrupted flight to Newark.
 |
| Work in Progress--AS we Board! |
Unfortunately the 767's flaps
were not properly repaired after all; immediately after takeoff the
air-crew found that they could not retract the extended control surfaces. For the second time, after dumping fuel we
recovered at Athens Airport to meet the familiar escort of emergency vehicles
flashing red lights, deplaned and waited for buses to carry the passengers back
to the Metropolitan.
Again, kudos to Captain Constantino
and her fine crew; they handled this near-clone of our previous emergency very
well. Unfortunately I cannot say the
same for several members of the passenger contingent. General frustration and anger were quite
evident amongst my companions and in three cases that I am aware of verbal
abuse was directed at the cabin crew and even the Captain when she walked aft
to talk to us. One passenger that I know
of was escorted from the aircraft by Greek police; this man had apparently
directed verbal threats at the Captain.
 |
| Captain Constantino deals with dissent in the ranks |
Finally, on the morning of 21
June, a new aircraft was delivered from Chicago; Captain Constantino and her
team took charge of this airliner and the remaining passengers of our group
boarded and departed Athens that morning.
This particular flight went off flawlessly and ten hours later we were
deplaning in Newark.
Now, for my critique on a
safety issue. On 20 June it was obvious
to boarding passengers that the mechanics were still working on the left wing
of our 767-300, and our departure was delayed further while paperwork was
completed and signed. The subsequent
flap failure and our return to Athens make clear to me that there was no
attempt to confirm the success of repairs before embarking passengers and
taking off. This failure to complete a
"check flight" to verify the status of the aircraft as adequate for a
transcontinental flight was, in my opinion, a significant error.
Had the aircraft been flown without
passengers--with a fuel load sufficient to that purpose--prior to our coming
back aboard, it seems clear that this would have negated the possibility of
risking the safety of 200+ passengers AND of dumping a second long-range
load of fuel into the Aegean Sea. Surely
United spent more money on that wasted av-gas than it would have spent on a
quick check-flight, and I for one would not have objected to an additional
delay of a few hours while this seemingly obvious test was performed.
Thus, my single complaint to
register on the subject of this three-day tale is that, effectively, the
airline saw fit to risk the safety of 200+ persons (including myself) on an
un-tested aircraft on 20 June 2016. As a
transportation professional I find this unacceptable; it amounts to the use of
passengers as experimental "guinea pigs".
This completes my account of
the events of 19-21 June 2016 in the environs of Athens, Greece; of course this
represents a passenger's eye view and I do not claim to have all details. I welcome any feedback you might offer in
reference to my complaint, and look forward to your response to my concerns.
Thank You,
Thomas L. Epps
Tuesday, June 14, 2016
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?
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?
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