by Dan Wright
The weather forecasters gave plenty of warning, you have to admit. I knew it was going to be hot. I'm a night-person who prefers sleeping in, and also I've done a lot of camping, which means the greenhouse effect in tents became a memorable nuisance to me on many occasions. I was willing to go to extremes to conquer it this time.
So I researched the subject of camping in the heat, and found some tips on Burning Man web pages (I've never been to Burning Man, but the web pages are fun to look at). Bought a garden sprayer from Longs Drugs (a little hand-pump-pressurized canister with a wand and misting nozzle), then went to Home Depot and got enough aluminum foil bubble wrap insulation to cover my tent.
On the way to SSP I stopped for gas near Redding and the temp was 114. Stepping out of my air-conditioned car was like opening the kitchen oven. People at the gas station moved in slow motion and atmospheric heat waves gave the scene a surreal quality. As I handled the gasoline I worried it might spontaneously explode. My car was like a space ship with life support systems.
What a trip.
I saw clouds of fine red dust at the Shingletown airport, so I decided to camp at the far end. I was surprised to read that Jay Freeman, having seen the dust, drove right back home. I can't imagine doing that. What a long drive! I figured I'd keep my equipment under wraps waiting for a time when the dust and wind would settle down, which seemed certain to occur eventually during the next 4 days. I was also willing to risk a little dust in my equipment to participate in this great event. The dust was fine as baby powder, though, and showed up fingerprints on surfaces like forensic science.
Later on, water trucks nearly solved the dust problem. The first water truck was actually a fire engine, and I understand he'd been delayed because he'd been fighting an actual fire in that 107 degree heat. You can bet this gentleman was hot and exhausted by the time he arrived to hose us down! Another example of Shingletown people working hard to accommodate us (there were many other examples).
I erected a pop-up shelter with three white walls, leaving an opening facing north, and set my tent inside. Struggling with the classic map-maker's problem of covering a sphere using flat sheets, I eventually covered the tent with aluminum foil bubble-wrap. Under the pop-up shelter, and then under foil, the tent was dark inside even at noon, opaque even to UV radiation, with little greenhouse effect. I slept in until 10:30 most mornings. However, eventually the inside temp would reach the ambient temp due to conduction/convection and I would have to wake up.
The Milky Way was the best I've seen in 15 years. I camped next to a fine fellow -- Robert Shelton from Walnut Creek, who turned out to be an excellent observing partner. He was friendly, knowledgeable, and witty. He had a 13" dob -- 3 inches more aperture than me. But the optics in my 10" LX200 GPS were slightly sharper, so we'd switch back and forth to get the best of both worlds.
We went for the common eye-candy objects first, which were all showing nicely, and he had a list of interesting rare planetaries that we worked on.
Thursday at high noon I poured ice water and pumped air pressure into my garden sprayer, then concealed a 12v battery and inverter in a backpack with a cord leading out to an AC electric fan. Spraying a fine mist in front and evaporating it with the fan, Burning Man style, I took myself down the long runway toward Carl Larson's "Astro Castle", wherein I found Carl and James Turley passing the blazing afternoon in slow motion and sipping cold drinks. James said "hit me", and I blasted him with the mist and fan. Instant swamp cooler. He recalled that hotels in Vegas have outdoor misting systems. An idea for Singletown next year would be to run little pipes around the inside of your pop-up shelter, with misting nozzles every few feet, powering the whole thing from a hand-pressurized cannister like my garden sprayer. But maybe next year it won't be hot.
We visited a local swimming hole townies told us about, just a 5 minute drive away. The water seemed to be newly melted from glaciers, it was that cold. A brave person might use the Tarzan rope swing to enter, while others waded in gradually, gasping and yelping. This swimming hole became a favorite daytime spot during the weekend. The deep chill I got from swimming there would last an hour or more even after I returned to the airport.
Thursday night, during the all-you-can-eat pizza dinner, a lone over-worked teenage girl frantically tried to cook and serve pizzas fast enough to satisfy the crowd of "star gazers". In fact someone jokingly referred to us as "star geezers" -- isn't that funny? Hardy Har Har! The pizza was good and greasy and well-liked. One reason we liked it so, was that she employed the subtle culinary trick of serving it gradually piece by piece, piquing our appetite for our next slice.
I was sitting inside when Carl Larson came from outside saying I should check the Karaoke scene out there. Said it reminded him of something out of "Twin Peaks" (or "Northern Exposure", I thought). I went out, and there sang a middle-aged barefoot country housewife, a little chubby but in full possession of her younger passion. Beer and smoke in hand, she belted out a ballad about growing up in a small town and having roots. I bet she sings it each Friday, since the locals knew it well and were mouthing the words. Old guys sat in wheelchairs nodding to the beat, Grandmas danced with children, and bad-assed young men roared their Harleys in the parking lot. God bless the USA.
Observing that night, clouds bothered us, so I suggested to Robert we split the select doubles featured on the back of DeepMap 600 (since doubles can be done even when seeing isn't best). That was actually a lot of fun. DeepMap is a pretty cool thing. Later the sky cleared and it looked great for awhile, but about 1:00 AM it got bad again and we packed it in.
Friday night the Big Wheels bar and restaurant held a Bar-B-Que dinner for us and they had another Karaoke setup. I never realized how big Karaoke has become in small town America. A couple townie teenagers got up on stage. With very poor grace they performed a song vaguely related to astronomy, and we all groaned in reaction. Next they proceeded to murder Elton John's "Rocket Man". It seemed their strategy was to perform badly enough to break the ice and encourage us to try Karaoke, since seemingly anyone could sing better.
When they started slaughtering the Eagles "Hotel California", I noticed Mags Temple across the table, singing the song correctly under her breath and mentioning how somebody ought to go up and take the microphones and sing it right. I felt the same way about that song, so I stood up and told Mags she and I ought to do it. I took her hand, and we waltzed up and grabbed the mics and finished singing Hotel California. What an adrenaline rush!
Paul Sterngold and Stacy Jo McDermott delivered a hot and dancing rendition of "Rock The Casbah" to great applause, while others sat pouring indecisively over the books of available Karaoke songs. It became obvious Mark Wagner was going to sing one (since he'd spent so much time looking at the books), and finally after Paul and Stacy had polished off a ZZ Top song, Mark went up and began "Wild Thing". He called for his daughter Mimi, and a couple teen-age boys carried her kicking and squirming, and dropped her front and center near her dad, where she sat in a fetal position on the ground like, like, like totally embarrassed, while Mark sang, "I think you move me ...".
That night, abandoning star-hopping and giving myself completely over to the GOTO side of the force, I let my LX200 GPS take me on a "sky tour" named Tonight's Best. The scope picked objects and slewed around and flashed fun and interesting facts about each object on the little LED screen. I know it's silly but I thought I'd try it at least once.
I also put it in a mode where it would suggest planetaries, and Robert and I were interested in the view of Caldwell 2, a.k.a. NGC 40, a small round ghostly planetary. There were many other things I looked at and (in a happy stupor) forgot to log. I spent a long time just gazing at the Milky Way through Canon IS 15x50's. Feeling drowsy about 2:00 AM, there were still things I wanted to see, but my comfy bed was calling.
Saturday was sleeping in late, then patronizing the hospitality tent and the continental brunch Vera "Widder" DeWitt and her Shingletown associates set out for us each morning. I stopped at the airport entrance to buy ice and charge a battery, and got into a water fight with Cary Ster who was sitting alone in his registration tent. He had a squirt bottle in each hand and plastered me in the face with both barrels, but there was a fresh charge of ice water in my garden sprayer, so I nailed him with a steady stream. The rest of Saturday afternoon was just hanging at the swimming hole and relaxing.
That evening, a big crowd of Shingletown folk showed up at the airport and struggled in the sudden breeze to erect tents for the Tri-tip cookout, live band, and bake sale. They were working hard and I felt guilty sitting around watching their tents nearly blow away, but it was their show and they knew what they were doing. Before long we were eating steak and listening to the band and buying rhubarb pie for $1.50 to benefit the Shingletown Historical Society.
We were also encouraged to buy tickets to about 14 different raffles, but I was OK with that. Many of the services throughout SSP were obviously fund-raisers, but the prices were often low, and inventory levels high, so I worried whether they would break even. Plus the locals were so friendly and generous, I naturally wanted to reciprocate.
A local watercolor fellow set up large black paper boards and a selection of paints and encouraged people to come and paint something star-related. I did a rendition of M13 that turned out OK (considering).
A local kid won the T-shirt design contest, and in a public ceremony was presented with a pair of binoculars for himself and an Orion Newtonian for his school. His parents were so proud. Who talked Orion into donating those items for the event? Mark Wagner? I was impressed. I do know that Mark was the one who procured the fine items for the astronomy raffle (included in the price of admission) -- a green laser and 7 Nagler among them. Kudos to Mark for this!
The public star party was my favorite time there. The people were numerous, enthusiastic, and awestruck. I was down at the far end of the runway but I got a lot of traffic just the same. I love watching kids (of all ages) gasp at their first sight of those common deep sky objects we take for granted. I also enjoy "holding forth", or "pontificating" (as Turley put it) -- edifying the crowd with explanations of the universe.
A great experience overall, and I wish I was back there now instead of in the middle of a work week. Highest praise goes to Jim Ster, Mags, and Cary, and to Mark Wagner, for their selfless dedication and service that made this event a success.
P.S. I've got good pictures including the Karaoke, the swimming hole, big dobs on the runway, and the public event Saturday, but I want to crop and unsharp and Paint-Shop-Pro them first. I'll send a note when they're ready.