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!

Weighing Anchor

Yes, I know it's been a while since I've posted anything significant--aside from Mr. Masefield's wonderful poem, which seems to sum up my sea-going predilections perfectly.  It's been a great leave; busy with projects in both New York and Virginia (more on that later), plenty of long walks in the woods with Lucy, my infinitely Better Half, and our little English Bulldog, Delany (otherwise known as Woola--look it up!).  Evenings of star-gazing and a terrific recital of four-hand piano music, a drive to Drakes' Island (Maine) for a Beach-combing weekend, a fossil-hunting expedition amongst half-billion year old stromatolite "sea gardens", and of course the joy that comes of holding my Love close, of feeling her head on my shoulder as we drift off to sleep, the deep sorrow of that final kiss and last wave goodbye before I begin the long drive back to Virginia, back to the sea.

I'm in Newport News now, plying my limited 'handyman' skills in preparing our little house for occupancy;  after our two-year experiment of living in New York we have decided for a myriad of reasons to move South once more.  Thankfully the old manse never sold in our absence (thank the economic nightmare of the past four years for that blessing) and remains in good condition; most of my efforts are toward cleaning-up the mess left by our tenants and some light repair work.

Next Monday I'll be attending small-arms (M-14 rifle, M-9 pistol and 12-Gauge shotgun) and security training at a facility not too far south of the North Carolina line, and the following week I'm due to report for duty and assignment to a ship.  This, as they say, is where things get interesting...stay tuned!

Sea Fever

Sea Fever

John Masefield

(1878-1967)

I must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,

And all I ask is a tall ship and star to steer her by,

And the wheel's kick and the wind's song and the white sails shaking,

And a gray mist on the sea's face and a gray dawn breaking.

I must go down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide

Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied;

And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying,

And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the sea gulls crying.

I must go down to the seas again, to the vagrant gypsy life,

To the gull's way and the whale's way where the wind's like a whetted knife;

And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow rover,

And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick's over.

The Sons of Perseus

The Sons of Perseus

09 August 2012

There is quite a lot going on this Saturday night/Sunday morning; the conjunction of Spica, Saturn and Mars continues as a celestial triangle gradually becomes a line of 1^st-Magnitude “stars” in the evening sky, a major meteor shower reaches full intensity (its “peak”), and the Moon plays ‘tag’ with two bright planets.  Plenty of excitement for the evening observer and early-riser to enjoy, so lets get started!

First, an update on the ongoing conjunction of Saturn, Spica and Mars.  Over the past week Mars has moved eastward and will be passing between stationary Spica and slow-moving Saturn during the next week.  Even now, as it draws “nearer” the ringed planet and distant star, Mars has moved close enough that you can easily view all three simultaneously through binoculars.  Compare the members of the triad members’ relative brightness and hue—what a terrific contrast of colors!

Keep an eye on these three—the show isn’t over.

Now, for the Main Event.  On Sunday morning the Perseid meteor shower will reach it’s peak for this year; over the past few weeks we’ve been seeing more and more of these “shooting stars”, and the time has come at last for the grand finale.  The Perseids (the name is Greek for “the sons of Perseus”, a reference to the mythological hero) have been observed for at least 2000 years, and are one of the year’s most impressive displays of celestial fireworks, with up to 80 bright meteors (and hundreds of dimmer ones) visible to the naked eye per hour at peak. 

The best time to observe meteors is in the three to four hours before dawn on Sunday, when Earth’s rotation brings the shower’s “radiant” (the area of the sky from which the meteors appear to move outward from) up in the eastern sky.  As the name suggests, the Perseid shower’s radiant is located in the constellation Perseus (see the map below), but don’t concentrate your viewing on that spot alone.  Pick an area with as few lights, buildings or trees as possible, lean back so you can comfortably watch your chosen “sector” (I usually use an air mattress or lawn recliner chair), have a thermos handy and bug-repellent ready, and enjoy the show.

The closing act for the night will be the view to the east an hour or two before sunrise; the waning crescent Moon, 1^st-Magnitude star Aldebaran, Jupiter and Venus will be putting on a lovely display.  Jupiter and Aldebaran (alpha Tauri) will be above the Moon, and Venus (brightest thing in the sky after the Moon) will be low above the horizon. 

I hope you all can get out for at least part of Saturday night/Sunday morning’s sky show—you don’t need to put in an all-nighter (though I probably will!) to observe four planets, the Moon and one of the most amazing meteor showers of the year.  Let me know what you do see of the night’s attractions by writing to my shore-side email (navalgamer@afgimail.com) , and above all—be safe out there in the dark!

Tom Epps

Able Seaman

USNS Joshua Humphreys

Persian Gulf

Photo Dump

08 August 2012

Welcome back to All @ Sea!, my effort to illustrate in my own words and images what it is like to live and work in the great ships.  My name is Tom Epps, I’m 50 years young and a veteran of 24 years’ service in the United States Navy plus nearly 8 years sailing in the US Merchant Marine, in the Gulf of Mexico “oil patch” and the Navy’s Military Sealift Command (MSC).  Currently I am working aboard USNS Joshua Humphreys, a replenishment oiler operating in the Persian Gulf region; her job is to provide USN and Allied warships with fuel, water, food and other stores that keep them sailing and carrying out their missions.

 HMS Diamond On Approach...

...And Alongside USNS Joshua Humphreys

Diamond Receives Fuel From T-AO 188

 

I would like to thank All Hands for the kind comments I’ve received in recent months about my postings and photographs as I’ve sailed in Joshua Humphreys; our voyage has carried us from the northern Persian Gulf south to the Horn of Africa and north to Suez, and it has been a busy and rewarding cruise.  Now, however, the time is come to say “farewell” to Humphreys and her fine crew; my tour of duty here is done and this coming weekend I ought to be flying back to the States for some R&R before the next voyage begins.  A few months of leave and some refresher training, and who knows where my next missive might originate!

French Frigate Guepratte On "Plane Guard"

I will of course be continuing to post on the All @ Sea! Blog (gloriousseas.blogspot.com) while ashore—there are plenty of sea-stories yet to tell, after all!  I’ll also continue with my “Weekend Astronomy” bulletins when interesting stargazing opportunities present themselves—and there just happens to a good ‘un this weekend.  Stay Tuned!

 

Frigate HNLMS  Evertsen makes a handsome approach!

Evertsen's Lynx helo snaps our photo!

I’m going to close out this voyage with a few photos of ships that have come alongside for fuel in recent weeks.  In actuality this represents only a small fraction of our recent “business”, but I don’t always have the luxury of time to take photos of the ships that avail themselves of our services. (occasionally I actually work…)  I hope you will enjoy these images!

Tom Epps

Able Seaman

USNS Joshua Humphreys

Persian Gulf

And we close this voyage with the powerful South Korean frigate Wang Geon...

Celestial Triangle

Good Evening, Shipmates!

I’d like to invite you all to step outside this Saturday and Sunday about an hour after sunset and look to the west; if you have clear or mostly-clear skies, a reasonably low horizon and not too many lights interfering with the view you’ll see three bright “stars” in a small, almost equilateral triangle formation, gleaming in the late twilight. All three will be of approximately the same brightness, but of wildly differing colors—one a steady golden hue, the second orange or yellow-brown, and the third a twinkling light blue. Unlike the annular solar eclipse in May or the Transit of Venus in June, you won’t need a telescope or special filters to enjoy this vista, but a pair of binoculars will show their colors plainly. Be sure to bring the kids out for this one, and have some fun with the facts and figures listed below.

So, what are we looking at? Most of you will already have guessed that one or more of our targets are planets, and you’re right; we are looking at a Conjunction (an apparently close approach of two or more celestial bodies as seen from our perspective) of the planets Saturn (Yellow or Golden), Mars (the Angry Yellow-Brown Planet) and Spica (alpha Virginis), the brightest star of the constellation Virgo and the 15th brightest star visible in our skies. As celestial events go this kind of apparition isn’t really very rare, but it is quite lovely, and given all the attention being paid to Mars these days quite an appropriate reason to brave the mosquitoes on a warm August evening.

As readers of my Blog will know, I have a soft spot for our ruddy, diminutive neighbor—the “fourth rock from the sun”. I’ve watched it through the telescope for much of my life through a succession of “oppositions” (see the Blog entry “Red Planet” for details of my obsession with the God of War) and kept careful track of our unmanned explorations over recent decades. A small constellation of orbiting probes have been scanning the planet for quite a few years, and rovers slowly crawling the Martian landscape have answered many of questions (and raised many more, which is as it should be) about the geology, weather and history of Mars. This weekend, in fact, is expected to mark a milestone in our Martian study; during Sunday night the largest interplanetary rover yet—NASA’s “Curiosity” is to enter our brother planet’s atmosphere and land to begin a new phase of the search for answers. “Curiosity” is a very ambitious program—and a risky one—but I await work of its safe arrival in Gale Crater with great anticipation.

On to Saturn. The sixth world out from the Sun, most famous for it’s spectacular and intricate system of rings, has also visited by man’s robotic emissaries. Even now the nuclear-powered Cassini probe orbits the “Lord of the Rings”, measuring and imaging the massive gas-giant planet’s storms, rings, and many moons. Run a search online for Cassini images of Saturn; prepare to be amazed!

Spica, as noted above, is one of the brighter stars gracing our skies, a Blue Giant binary (double star) over 10 times the mass of our Sun. Its companion star, which orbits the primary every four days, weighs in at over 7 times the mass of the Sun as well, making this a pretty impressive system. Spica is one of the closest Blue Giants to Earth.

Think about that for a moment. As you enjoy the quiet spectacle of the conjunction, and perhaps watch in weeks to come as the “Dance of the Planets” continues with Mars closing in on Saturn and both changing position relative to Spica, consider that Mars is the nearest of these three objects at an approximate distance of 240 million kilometers, Saturn next at about 1.5 billion km, with Spica a mind-pummeling 2.4 quadrillion kilometers*. Put another way, the Sun’s light reaching us now was reflected from Mars’ oxidized surface 14 minutes ago, Saturn’s icy rings and cloud tops nearly an hour and a half back in time, and shone out from Spica’s twin suns over 260 years in the past (in approximately 1752, the year that Ben Franklin demonstrated the principles of electricity using a kite, a key, and a thunderstorm!).

With all the distances involved, and the relative sizes of the participants in this celestial show, I think perhaps the most impressive fact is that the apparent brightness of each of our three neighbors is about the same; two planets, one tiny and the other the second largest in our solar system, and a double star incredibly far removed from our Solar System, all shine in the sky with nearly the same brightness, each in their distinct hues of red, gold and blue. Beautiful!

Space, as Douglas Adams once put it, is big. Really big. And this conjunction of two planets and a bright star is an opportunity to experience and share some appreciation of the scale of our Solar System and stellar neighborhood. It’d also be a good opportunity for a barbeque! So enjoy the burgers and steaks, and the show in the western sky; I’ll be watching as well from Joshua Humphreys’ bridge wing, out here on the Blue Stuff.


Tom Epps
Able Seaman
USNS Joshua Humphreys
Persian Gulf



* Please let me know if I flubbed the maths on that one!

In transit

"There's a little black spot on the sun today"

Sting and the Police, 'King of Pain'

06 June 2012

I awoke on my own at a few minutes before 0400; the alarm burred to life while I was brushing my teeth. A quick glance out my stateroom window confirmed the weather forecast for the morning - clear with some haze in the air - and as I finished dressing I reviewed my plan, searching for flaws. All equipment packed? Battery packs charged? Would two bottles of water be enough? What had I forgotten?

I'd been getting ready for this morning for three months, and anticipating it for many years. Ever since, as a teenager, I had read of Captain Cook's expedition to Tahiti (primarily to observe a Transit) and the journeys of Victorian era astronomers and geometers in a later century, my imagination has been fired by the idea of worlds in motion, of the clockwork motion of the Solar System, and being part of a grand event, a literal "once in a lifetime" occurrence; the Transit of Venus across the disk of the Sun.

I climbed two decks down to the mess deck and watched CNN while eating a bowl of grits and an apple; around the world observers were enjoying and sharing the experience I had yearned for so very long. With the event nearly halfway over my friends and associates in the US were closing down their observing sites as Earth turned them away from the Sun; the islands and mainland of the Pacific Rim were the only witnesses to the Transit now.

My own turn would come soon; dawn was only an hour away.

With time to spare I rode the elevator to Humphreys' bridge; there the weather instruments again verified the morning forecast. A cup of tea at the rail, watching the gibbous Moon sink toward the western horizon and the lights of metropolitan Dubai, and then it was time to go down to the flight deck and set up my equipment.

I might've been in the city this morning. I did receive an invitation a few days ago from the local amateur astronomy group to join them on a local university campus to enjoy the company of fellow observers as we watched the Transit through their telescopes. I could've probably cadged a sofa to sleep on, or even sprung for a relatively inexpensive hotel room near their site, and yet I had chosen to stay aboard ship to observe the event in the midst of an industrial nightmare of haze and dust, fumes and noise.

Why NOT go into Dubai to see the Transit? Certainly the view through the local astronomer's telescopes would have been far more impressive than that seen through my 10x50 binoculars, and their advanced imaging gear would undoubtedly produce better photographs than my little "consumer shooter" camera with a piece of aluminized Mylar solar filter material (essentially a pop-tart wrapper) rubber-banded across the lens. Who could be better company than other amateur astronomers, fully cognizant of the event and its mechanism and meaning, both physical and historical?

Who, indeed?

The Jumbled Horizon of the port of Jebel Ali at Dawn

By the time I reached the flight deck with my knapsack full of gear and bottles of water, the eastern sky was rapidly growing lighter; when I had finished attaching filters to binoculars and camera to tripod sunrise was only minutes away. With one last adjustment to the camera's manual settings, I was ready.

0529: Sunrise - but an invisible one, masked by desert dust and industrial gloom! Patience, Tom.

0542: Finally, rising from the murk, the flattened yellow-orange globe of the Sun--and even without any optical assistance at all I could clearly see the tiny black dot in its upper-left quadrant. Venus. I stood in awe; at last I was seeing with my own eyes that which I had read about and imagined for so many years! If only there were someone handy with whom I could enjoy the experience...

0544 Local Time: A Little Black Spot on the Sun…

Those who know my astronomical activities and interests well have likely guessed why I "passed" on going in to Dubai to watch the Transit, why I stayed aboard this morning to view Venus' passage in the less-than-optimal conditions of massive port complex, having to deal with the noise, vibration and sluggish motion of a ship alongside the quay rather than a solidly-mounted telescope in a quiet, clean location. They know that the only thing that comes close to the pleasure of stargazing for me is the satisfaction I get from showing other folks what is out there, what they can see in the skies with their own eyes if only they know when and where to look.

You see, with me it's all about astronomical "outreach"; making the effort to share the heavens with the public. When back in Virginia (my home-base with the Navy) I try to take advantage of every opportunity to set-up a telescope in a public place, inviting passersby to "come take a look at Jupiter/the Moon/some sunspots". Aboard whatever ship I am currently sailing I work to drum-up interest in lunar eclipses and meteor showers, conjunctions and comets. You might be surprised at how many people gaze through the eyepiece or stare through binoculars and then tell me that they've NEVER viewed the Moon before that night, or even knew that you COULD see a planet with your unaided eyes!

My motives are quite selfish in this pursuit; in raising awareness and appreciation of the visual wonders of the Universe I find that my own enjoyment of those same wonders is enhanced. As if I were seeing each object or event through fresh eyes; coming into greater understanding as I explain to new stargazers what they are seeing and some of the theory behind it.

0733 Local Time; Finally Out of the Murk

For two weeks I've been sending email updates to Humphreys' crew with the purpose of making them and their families back home (in the States, Philippines, Guam and Samoa) aware of the Transit, how to view it safely, and what we can expect to see aboard ship. Yesterday, having made the decision not to go to the city for the event, I sent one last notice out informing all hands that I would be on-deck this morning, and inviting them to come out and watch the show with me.

0830 Local Time; The Spectacle Draws to a Close

Had just one member of the crew turned-out to watch our "sister" planet cross the solar face the effort would have been well worth my while. I would have been satisfied with a few early-risers joining me on the flight deck - but as the Sun cleared the omnipresent dust cloud over the harbor I am happy to report that a dozen of my Shipmates were on-station, carefully passing the filtered binoculars back and forth and wrapping Mylar over their own camera lenses to capture the scene for themselves.

Score! (Virtual fist-pump)

Today, as we watched Venus glide across the face of the Sun, passing groups of sunspots (I counted six separate groupings - one of our Boatswains Mates was sure he saw seven), I kept busy explaining the event to late arrivals, answering questions about our local star and sister planet, taking photographs and - just occasionally - claiming the binoculars for a few minutes' admiration of the spectacle. The hours flew by, and soon Venus neared the point on the solar disk where it would move clear of the Sun and vanish from sight against the glare.

0836; The “Black Drop” Effect

I was thrilled to see and record the famous "black drop" effect, which happens when a transiting planet seems just about to "touch" the Sun's limb; the edges of the two bodies seemed to melt together, with Venus acquiring a teardrop-shape both through the binoculars and the camera. Many theories have circulated over the years to explain this phenomenon; today the accepted explanation is that the "black drop" is the result of the effect of turbulence in Earth's atmosphere on the seeing and thus the resolution of optics and the eye. Whatever the reason, certainly the effect is striking and otherworldly!

Even as the Transit drew to a close, with Venus rapidly approaching the point of egress from the Sun's disk, more members of Humphreys' crew were stopping by to take a look at the unfolding spectacle. With my attention divided between sky, camera and answering questions I have only a vague idea of how many members of the crew came by, but a full page of my observing journal is taken up by "guest book" entries, giving a minimum number of twenty-two.

0848; Venus Departs the Stage

0849: Finally, over three hours after sunrise and the "beginning" of the Transit (at least for us), and with the day already heating toward the triple-digit temperatures common in this desert land, we watched as the deep shadow of Venus moved off the Sun's face, finally vanishing from sight. A collective cheer met the conclusion of the event; we all raised our water bottles in salute to a rare and beautiful show!

As the party on the flight deck broke up, and I began to pack my gear, I just had to pause and turn the binoculars on Sol once again. Our Sun's disk seemed oddly empty without that small, round silhouette gracing it's face, and I felt a moment's sorrow and even pride; sorrow in that this long-awaited Transit is now finished, and pride in having experienced it first-hand, in having seen and helped others to see this amazing demonstration of our dynamic solar system.

The next Transit of Venus will be one hundred and five years from now. I certainly won't see it; astronomers still decades from being born will observe the 2117 Transit and other wonders which we cannot even imagine, and perhaps as they do they will think back to the stargazers who preceded them, who braved storms and desert heat to watch a planet silently glide across the face of the Sun. To be remembered in this way, however abstractly, is a form of immortality that appeals to me.

It is enough for me to know that today I realized a childhood dream in that black spot on the Sun, and that in the course of my own exaltation I was able to open the eyes of a few others to the beauty of the skies. NOW I can begin in earnest to prepare for the Total Solar Eclipse, coming up in August of 2017. After all, it's only five years away!

"I recommend it therefore again and again to those curious astronomers who (when I am dead) will have an opportunity of observing these things, that they would remember this my admonition, and diligently apply themselves with all their might in making this observation, and I earnestly wish them all imaginable success..."

Sir Edmund Halley on Transits

1716