by Jay Reynolds Freeman
It would be sad to be on Mauna Kea and not know what to look at, so I made an observing plan. For years, my deep-sky program drew from Burnham's Celestial Handbook, but I had found all the listed galaxies, star clusters, and nebulae to 45 degrees south declination, and a few beyond. This trip allowed extending that survey almost twenty degrees in declination, for over half way around the sky. So I copied the Burnham deep-sky lists for southern constellations, and marked what I had not seen. I added other objects of interest, such as Proxima Centauri, and made lists for facing pages of Millennium Star Atlas, showing which objects were on which charts.
There are not many Burnham objects in that strip of sky, so I added NGC and IC objects from Millennium. I cross-checked other sources, such as the lists of open and globular clusters in volume II of Sky Catalogue 2000.0, to be sure I had not omitted any bright object.
In case I had spare time, I made a similar series of chart-by-chart lists for fainter objects -- mostly ESO galaxies -- drawn from selected areas that had many. That series extended north of 45 degrees south declination, because I cannot work faint objects as close to the horizon as the brighter stuff in Burnham, so I have seen few of these targets from California. When all was done, my lists included about 700 objects, which I deliberately intended to be more than I could look at.
Millennium is my favorite observing atlas, but it's awfully heavy. With trepidation only partly relieved by the prospect of more travels in the future, I cut mine up with a hobbyist knife, so I could take just the charts I needed. I would have needed two Millennium volumes otherwise. The hack job saved eight pounds of weight, and nearly the whole bulk of those two volumes. I had visions of the wind blowing my loose charts to Japan, so I added a few "Bulldog" clips to my kit, to keep them under control. And I ordered a replacement Millennium.
I brought all the Email I had exchanged with Hawaiian amateurs, and also pages printed from the U. S. Naval Observatory web site, showing times of Sun and Moon rise and set for when I would be there.
To these materials, I added most of my regular observing kit -- a medium-thick attache case with an old Norton's Star Atlas, a copy of NGC 2000.0, the current Royal Astronomical Society of Canada Observer's Handbook, my current logbook, red flashlights, and a handful of gadgets and doodads. I also took a full set of Brandon 1.25-inch eyepieces. All this went in one carry-on bag -- the one I use for my observing kit on the mainland. The only thing I brought that I didn't need was all those eyepieces. I had six -- my Brandon kit includes a very old 6 mm -- but I only used the 12 mm.
I knew I would need heavy clothes. I hand carried a down vest and wide-brimmed hat, and stuffed my luggage with sweat shirt, windbreaker, down gloves, ushanka, and a stack of one-shot catalytic hand warmers. These are non-flammable, non-toxic, non-corrosive, and non-oxidizing, and they only get about as hot as a cup of coffee, so they are not a concern aboard airliners.
Did I mention coffee? I took one of the tiny 120V hot water heaters that can heat water in a hotel drinking glass, plus a twelve-volt hot pot about the size of a medium thermos bottle, for boiling water in a car. If I had known that the Onizuka Visitor Center had 120V available 24 hours a day, I could have skipped the hot pot, but it was handy even so -- the 10-inch's diagonal assembly traveled inside it, wrapped in tissue and bubble-wrap. And I took a large supply of good instant coffee. I let someone at the Visitor Center borrow it to make some, but said I would come looking for him if he didn't bring it back. Jeeze, I can remember when "Colombian" meant marijuana...
My second piece of hand-carry luggage was an Orion 14x70 binocular in its case. The rest of my travel kit was the usual clothes, toilet articles, and so on. I swapped heavy parts and fasteners from the telescope case with lighter stuff from my second checked suitcase, to reduce the weight of the loaded telescope case.
I packed everything a week early, so I would have time to notice or remember things I should have packed. I only found a few, and nothing turned up forgotten when I was in Hawaii.
I bought a few things in Hilo, such as snacks and instant foods to eat on the mountain, and note cards for indexing my observations. With hindsight, I would have bought coffee on location, too -- Hawaii's excellent Kona was widely available. I also sent a box of stuff home by postal service before I returned. It might have been cheaper as excess luggage, but at the cost of more hassle at the airport. I sent dirty clothes, souvenirs, Hawaii travel books, and such heavy telescope stuff as I could easily replace from hardware stores. (I took the 10-inch apart the day before I left, and used the 14x70 the last evening.)
Early on May 28, I drove to San Francisco Airport, heaved my luggage onto the long-term parking shuttle bus, and manhandled it into the United terminal area. United had no problem with the size or weight of my telescope case. In fact, it provided a benefit: United staff waved me around the line of passengers waiting to check in, to a special station with a sign for odd-sized baggage. Behind the counter they had a big door and conveyor belt for things like surf boards and bicycles. My baggage was not oversize, but it sure was odd. The 747 didn't seem too heavy on takeoff, so I guess it was okay. I dozed on the flight to Honolulu, but spent the shorter leg to Hilo peering out the window of the Aloha 737, trying to decide whether the scud left over from a recent low was going to dissipate by evening.