The Sweet Spot

Exciting news!  Well, for me, anyway.  After many weeks of searching I may have finally discovered USNS Leroy Grumman's "sweet spot".  I tested it last night and it looks like a do-able solution. I am SO happy!

Let me explain. The biggest problem I face as an amateur astronomer working aboard a deep-draft vessel is the vibration of all those engines, pumps, motors, elevators and what-not that make the ship a viable organism.  The continual orchestra of mechanical action within the hull is transmitted thru the fabric of the craft so that there is always a background "hum" of vibration, wherever one stands on bridge, deck or lower compartment.You might think that the physical action of the ship (pitch, roll and yaw) in a seaway would be the greatest problem with star-gazing at sea, but I have found over many years of underway astronomy that a moderate roll or pitch can be dealt with when observing with binoculars. The vibration involved with day-to-day (or, in my especial case, night-to-night) operations is the real, ever-present problem with binocular or telescopic observation at sea, let alone any kind of astro-photography!.

'Thing is, the vibration isn't the same throughout the ship; it is transmitted thru the hull in such different ways  that one part of 'Leroy Grumman' might seem almost quiet where another area--only yards away--is filled with a jack-hammer racket of bouncing equipment and tools by the energy being distributed so unevenly through the ship.

So, once I go aboard a new ship I go looking for those areas where a telescope on low-power might actually be focused on a distant galaxy or a binary star without a constant "juddering" of the image seen thru the eyepiece; where a camera tripod might be set-up for photography of the Moon without the image obtained being smeared out of shape by the nearly imperceptible motion of the deck supporting it.It isn't the same location on every ship--even ships belonging to the same class can have very different vibrations, different distributions of motion through the steel of their structures. On each vessel I check aboard in this on-going voyage of mine I prowl the weather decks, feeling the vibration through my boots, touching lockers, motors and other fittings as I explore.  I search for that rare place, somewhere, where I can feel little or even no action in the steel beneath my fingertips.

Once I find a possible sweet spot, I make a note of it in my observing journal and plan to return to that location on a clear night.  Usually, the selected spot has a fatal flaw.  An A/C blower nearby starts and stops at irregular intervals, turning "sweet" to "sour" on further examination.  The location is in a part of the deck from which much of the sky is obscured--a definite down-check--or where it would actually be hazardous to life and limb to loiter there with a telescope.  Sometimes a second or even third visit is required to spot the possible downside to a spot on deck.

It occasionally does happen that I never do locate a sweet spot aboard the ships in which I serve.  I spent a year aboard USNS Big Horn without identifying a decent observing site, and equally elusive was that desired location aboard USNS Supply.  I enjoyed my time and work aboard these ships, but being unable to observe from a reasonably smooth site made things a little less pleasant than they might have been!

That brings us back to today, and what just might be the sweet spot aboard 'Leroy Grumman'.  The potential observing site aboard this ship is located forward, right next to our portside Rescue Boat station.  Initial tests (last night) were encouraging; the site boasts a storage box which I can use to support a small telescope (namely my old, reliable Astroscan Rich-Field Newtonian) that stands tall enough to allow me to stand comfortably whilst observing with it.  The deck around the storage box seems remarkably vibration-free and allows viewing of a fairly large area of the sky.  Unfortunately the box at the starboard Rescue Boat station doesn't share the characteristics of the port one--on THAT side of the deck the vibration problem is as bad as any other part of the ship I have tested to date!

So...tonight is the acid test.  If the weather holds fair as it is now I plan to set-up the Astroscan and photo tripod at this presumptive sweet spot at sunset and spend the evening checking out the heavens.  By midnight I should have a pretty good idea of how well this ship-board "observatory" will allow access to the skies.

Wish me luck!

A Farewell...And A Promise

Well, the day had to come...

Exit Scotland. After three enjoyable weeks of NATO war-games in the waters off the rugged west coast of this beautiful country, and two amazing trips ashore, 'Leroy Grumman' has turned her bows southward and rumbles down the Firth of Clyde. The journey continues.

I met a lot of terrific people during my time(s) here, and was able to indulge my astronomical interests to an extent not experienced in any other port-visits in my long career @ sea. I attended a public observing session at Coats Observatory in Paisley two weeks ago, and last night I was thrilled to join some serious local amateur astronomers at their dark sky site of Loudon Hill.

And now we're leaving port, as ships and sailors are wont to do. I mentioned the other day the mysterious affinity I feel for this country; green hills and deep, deep lochs; fog-wreathed castles and multitudes of grouse in the high grass. Maybe it has to do with my ancestors who left these valleys for the wilds of Virginia so many years ago, I don't know. But now I feel even more strongly this connection--there is something here that calls to me.

To Shand and Allistair, Wullie and Amid and Heather and George, and to all the others who welcomed me to their shores, Thank You for the pleasure of good times shared and open discourse enjoyed. I've had a remarkable visit and made many great friends, and I don't intend for this sailing to be an ending...not if I can help it.

I'll be back.

A Visit To Coats Observatory (Paisley, Scotland)

"Of all tools, the telescope is the most sublime"--Ralph Waldo Emerson

There I was, on the first full day of 'Leroy Grumman's much-anticipated weekend visit to Scotland.  In over three decades of sea-faring I had never before been to the land of my ancestors, and given that record it was a very good probability that I would never again have the chance to see the land of Robert the Bruce, William Wallace, and Peter Capaldi !  'Grumman' is a working ship, and I a Mariner not a tourist...the upshot of this is that I was to have one full day--Saturday--free to explore.

Naturally I decided to spend this time wisely and visit one of the three historic public observatories in Scotland.  The fact that this evening the astronomical world would be celebrating International Observe The Moon Night and that Coats was scheduled to be open for this event...well, that just sweetened the deal.

The north side of the Observatory

I caught a morning bus from 'Grumman's mooring at Loch Striven to the pretty town of Dunoon; from there a passenger ferry carried me across the Clyde to Gourock. Within minutes I was aboard a train heading into Glasgow--the trains are precisely timed to arrive and depart Gourock Station within ten minutes of  ferry arrivals and departures!--and less than an hour after leaving the pier in Dunoon I stood before my destination.

The weather was mostly clear, cool and crisp; I had noted that leaves were turning during my bus and train journeys and I was glad I had dressed for chilly weather in my green coat and watch-cap.  Ever hopeful of star-gazing opportunities I had also packed gloves, scarf  and a pair of chemical hand-warmers (the amateur astronomers' version of the "condom-in-the-wallet", if you will!). The clearing skies made me optimistic of at least the chance of being able to observe through the Observatory's instruments!

The main building of Coats Observatory stands behind the Paisley Museum and Library, rising above houses and apartment buildings in solid Victorian style, its copper dome a clear landmark for the astronomical tourist (though it IS sometimes confused with a similarly-shaped structure a few hundred yards away known as the "punchbowl"...a fellow passenger on the train had pointed that building out as Coats only a few minutes before I arrived!).

On the roof!

First entering the museum, I learned that tours of the observatory were being conducted throughout the day and that should the weather hold the dome would be opened for the public between 1900 and 2100 that night.  Of course I joined the very next tour, which was rather lightly-attended; only I and a young business student from the local university met the lady who was to be our guide.  (I privately hoped that there would be more attendees for the Lunar festivities in the evening...I needn't have worried on that score!)

The 10" and 5" Refractors on a (former) Equatorial Mount

My first impression upon entering the Observatory building was--light!  The entire interior of the structure was aglow with warm, directed sunlight--cleverly accomplished through the use of conical "portholes" in the structure's upper reaches and great stained-glass windows in the eastern rooms on the lower floors.  The effect was both practical and charming--somehow the architects who'd designed this building--from the ground-floor entranceway, up the spiral staircase and ramps (intended to facilitate the movement of equipment within the observatory), and even the interior of the dome itself, not a single electric light was burning while all was perfectly illuminated!

No-where was this effect more dramatic than in the dome itself. Here, the massive mounting supports not one but two massive telescopes--plus two small finder 'scopes--in an arrangement out of the age of iron and steam.

I stood beneath them in a state of awe--unlike most vintage instruments you find in observatories these days, the two large refractors seemed unchanged, unaltered or from their original configuration. Original brass and iron soldier on in an age dominated by electronics and digital technology; except for a few wires and connections visible on the mounting these telescopes stand as monuments to their time of glory, when the giant refractor ruled and the giant mirror-based telescopes of today were inconceivable ghosts of a distant future.

5", 10" and Finder Scopes (Note the use of the mounting in Alt/Az mode)

The huge equatorial mount is being used in "Alt/Az" mode today; the polar axis has been locked and observers must move the huge instruments by hand using the bracket extending below the tube.  Their balance is excellent so it takes little effort to do this, but it means that the 'scopes must be continually adjusted to counter Earth's rotation; a real bother during public sessions as I know from long experience!

According to our guide the clock drive was replaced by a motor many years ago, but that too has fallen into disrepair; she seemed resigned to the fact that the great telescopes were fated to be "hand-driven" for a long time.  I'm hoping that she is wrong; there is nothing like a steady, "hands-off" image of the Moon or a planet..

Our guide demonstrates the adjustable observing seat and ladder

Again, the dome was entirely illuminated by sunlight coming in via the "portholes" visible in the exterior photos--I didn't even use a flash for any of these photos!  You can see the multiple shadows and reflections on the instruments and varnished wall in the observatory.

After the tour I went out to dinner and a walk down the high street, but I stayed close as I wanted to be early in-line for the night's lunar session. I also visited the Paisley Abbey, home of the famous "Alien" gargoyle, and wondered (as I'm sure many have...) whether the Abbey's directors were aware of the Giger-esque nature of this Guardian Monster when they contracted it from a Belgian artist...

Call the Colonial Marines...Quick!

Returning to the Observatory at the appointed time I was surprised and pleased to find a considerable line forming; apparently International Observe the Moon night is a big draw in these parts! It's hard to estimate numbers but I suspect that at least one hundred-and-fifty or even two hundred people of every age came to Coats to view the first-quarter Moon which hung low in the south.

Snapshot of the Moon--hand-held!

After a half-hour in line I was finally back in the dome, and had my all-too-brief glimpse at Luna through the 10" refractor.  As our guides had no time to adjust the viewing seat I had to twist uncomfortably to place my eye at the occular.  My appreciation of the view?  Fantastic! Fine detail of the lunar highlands was sliding rapidly past--the effect of Earth's uncorrected rotation--and I was staring into the inky shadows cast by crater walls and central peaks as if looking down from a speeding spacecraft in low orbit.  Just a beautiful, near-perfect image...I could have crouched there for hours, studying the passing lunar scenery!

But there were quite a few people crowded into the dome, awaiting their turns...I said goodbye to the splendid image and climbed down, disappointed to have so little time but also enthused to have been able to see our natural satellite in extreme close-up through this magnificent instrument.

Climbing back down the spiral staircase and leaving the building through the back door I found the Astronomy Curator of the Museum, John, running a somewhat more modern telescope.  He was keeping busy with "overflow" guests, giving them a look at Luna (by now falling rapidly toward the treeline) through an 8" Schmidt-Cassegrain telescope. I took a brief look through this instrument but soon fell into my old habits of answering questions posed by guests; I guess you can take the Volunteer out of his home country but you can't stop him talking about his favorite topic!

Astronomer John looks on as a guest enjoys the view of Luna

Finally, as the public evening at Coats Observatory drew to a close, I made my farewells to John and his enthusiastic staff and then set off on foot for the railway station.  It had been a great day, full of interesting conversation with people well-met, explorations of the Victorian-era universe, and an enjoyable (if brief) visit to the delightful city of Paisley.  Boarding the train back to Gourock where the punctual ferry waited, I glanced at the setting Moon and reflected on my single free day in Scotland; a day very well spent!

The beautiful 'Hershel' stained-glass window!

Follow the signs...

The Elephant in the Room, Part II

The Pens seen from the Harbor Mole

Yesterday's tour of the old German U-Boat pens in Brest was an amazing success! Our guide, a French Navy Commander, walked a dozen crew-members (including Captain Gray, Master of 'Leroy Grumman') through the complex, describing the fortresses' defenses and capabilities as we went. Wearing hard-hats to protect against any falling pieces of the ceiling, we heard the story of the first of Hitler's Western Wall sub pens, its construction which began in 1940 and took 500 days to complete using French labor, its support of two U-Boat flotillas during the Battle of the Atlantic, and the near-total destruction of the city of Brest by allied bombers attempting to neutralize this ugly structure and the submarines it maintained.

Our guide explains the problem of WWII ordnance disposal

I was professionally impressed by the workshop spaces, now used by French Navy EOD teams who spend most of their time locating and destroying ordnance left-over from World War II (and even WWI!), and drydocks currently in use maintaining minesweepers. The old monster which looms over Navbase Brest no longer repairs and re-arms Admiral Doenitz' U-Boats but still serves a purpose, supporting the ships and divers who locate and destroy the old ordnance in coastal French waters.

The main concourse, connecting workshops (right) with sub pens

One disturbing note (if walking through a decaying Nazi relic that supported the effort to destroy Britain by strangling the vital sea-links in the Atlantic isn't disturbing enough) was our guide's apparent pride in the base and even (if my read on his exposition and expression while describing the Battle of the Atlantic was anywhere near correct) in the accomplishments of the U-Boats based here.  I wish I could write here that I was the only one who left his presence with a queasy feeling inside, but later discussions with Shipmates who came on the tour confirmed that my impressions were shared ones.  Could it be that we spent the afternoon in the presence of a Third Reich apologist?

Damage caused by a British "Tallboy" bomb

In spite of our host's seemingly odd approach to his subject matter, I thoroughly enjoyed this rare opportunity to explore a relic of the German occupation, and to see for myself a major facility of Admiral Donitz's U-Boat force.  I have more photographs that I plan to post later, but want to get these impressions online before I get too busy with 'Leroy Grumman's upcoming operations.  I hope these images will give you some impression of the colossal and practical engineering achievement (with just a tinge of true and abiding evil) we were able to experience first-hand.

Exploring a U-Boat Drydock

It takes a village...the orange and green objects are training mines

The meter-thick walls--pocked by strafing aircraft fire

'Grumman's Captain Richard Gray (right) and our guide

The Belgian Frigate 'Louise-Marie'

BNS Louise-Marie, F931

 

 

'Louise-Marie' comes alongside

A quick post about a new friend of 'Leroy Grumman's... we've had occasion recently to work with a Belgian frigate (NOT words you probably hear everyday, but in fact they have a very nice Navy! Maybe the reason we don't hear much about them is that they have fewer sexual and/or political scandals...). Her name is 'Louise-Marie', and she and her crew are pretty darn sharp! Enjoy the photos; I suspect I'll have a few more soon.

The Elephant in the Room

The U-Boat Pens

Arrived in Brest, France this morning. Lucy and I visited this smallish city back in the early 1990s (aboard the QE2, no less!). Most of the crew has scattered for the bars and clubs in town but--being a very odd-ball kind of mariner (with no desire for alcohol--no tattoos, either!)--the objects of my interest are arrayed only a few hundred yards from our mooring!

Schoolships 'Leopard' and 'Lion'

The enormous concrete structure that dominates modern NavBase Brest is the face of the infamous U-Boat pens which supported and protected German U-Boats for most of World War II. Built by Nazi engineers in 1940, they were nearly impregnable with 7-meter-thick roofs and anti-aircraft batteries clustered on top.

The U-Boat pens were major targets for Allied bomber raids, as killing a submarine in port was a much better bet than fighting them at sea. (This, by the way, is still true today!). It wasn't until late in the war that the British developed their "Tallboy" bombs and actually began to penetrate these structures!

Destroyers  'Aquitaine' and 'Le Motte-Picquet'

In addition to the pens I am including a few photos of French naval vessels moored nearby; most impressive are the sleek 'Aquitaine'-class destroyers, which seem to dwarf earlier classes.

Destroyer 'Provence'

I'm hoping to get over for a visit to one or two ships while we're here, but tomorrow I'm concentrating on trying to penetrate some Nazi fortifications...I have to wonder how it feels to serve in ships and oher naval commands on this base and to have this huge remnant of the Nazi monster that crushed France at the beginning of World War II looming over everything in sight.  Perhaps I'll find out tomorrow.

 'Tenace', 'Armen' and (on the right) an unidentifiable Tug

Star Party @ Sea

The past few days aboard 'Leroy Grumman' have been
quite remarkable for me. Ordinarily, you see, I find
myself a lone geek among the crew of whatever ship I
happen to sail in, the only Mariner aboard with the
particular passions that are so much a part of my
life. I refer of course to my love of
science, and of astronomy in particular.

Oh, there will normally be one or two members of a
crew with whom I can enjoy an occasional
conversation on some facet or another of the sky and
it's wonders. Oftentimes I find myself leaning on a
bridge-wing stanchion, chatting with the lookout or
Mate on Watch as we watch the stars wheel overhead to
the ship's pitch and roll, showing the Cadets how to
locate the Pole Star or planets as dawn approaches,
or convincing the ship's company to assemble on the
flight deck to enjoy a Lunar Eclipse--but to my
knowledge I've never sailed with anyone quite as
involved in the stars and constellations as I.

Until now.

A few weeks ago I met Xavier, one of our busy Deck
force, and in the course of discussion I discovered
in him a kindred spirit. Like me he spends much of
his free time stargazing and reading about the
Cosmos, but dissimilarly he hasn't yet made the leap
to telescopic astronomy. In fact, right now he is
carefully researching types and models of 'optik
tubes', looking forward to that first precision
instrument purchase. With his youth and enthusiasm, I
see in him a much younger ME, weighing equipment
options and eager to begin the great adventure.

I consider myself very fortunate to have a Shipmate
of similar cloth, with whom to exchange views on
recent discoveries and theories, to debate equipment
choices, and to enjoy the view from on-deck as
twilight fades and the night's display begins.

But it turns out that Xavier and I are not alone;
just a few days ago a third member joined our tiny
astronomy club @ sea. Our newest member is Victor
(not his real name), he brings to our group not only
interest and energy but a very impressive and
portable 80mm refractor telescope.

After so many years of being the Lone Ranger, I seem
to have fallen in with a Posse...

Last night was the first of what I hope to be a
frequent event in future; Victor set up his refractor
on the starboard side bridge wing while I toted my
Astroscan reflector topside to join him. It was a
mostly-cloudy night with a massive thunderstorm
flashing and booming in the north and west, a brisk
wind across the deck and a choppy sea, but all of
that didn't matter. A small crowd (including the
Captain) gathered to observe the ascending Moon
through our instruments; even the vibration of
engines and generators from below decks, making
Luna's image dance and leap, did little to dampen our
enjoyment of the evening.

Mars and Saturn never did emerge from the clouds to
the south, and eventually the party broke up as it
appeared that the heavens were intent not to be more
forthcoming in their splendors. But I think we might
try again, soon--and perhaps Xavier will join us in
bringing telescopes topside in a near-future Star
Party @ Sea.

I like the way this is going...