Kirkwood 6/5 - 6/7

Ray Fox

Earlier this month, I finally cured my long-standing photon deprivation. After the birth of my son last June, my telescope has been gathering dust in a corner of my living room, silently awaiting my return while I plunged into fatherhood. After far too long away, I seized an opportunity to get out under the stars once again. My buddy and I ventured up 50 to a little spot near the Kirkwood ski lodge for a little camping expedition. I loaded up my 11" Starmaster along with my camping gear and we headed for the great outdoors. Luck was with us as we were graced with two of the darkest, clearest nights I've ever had the pleasure of experiencing.

We started off our first night of stargazing with a flyby of the Space Shuttle Discovery and the International Space Station. Just after sunset, it came cruising in from the northwest, a brilliant white dot high overhead, gliding through the darkening sky. After it disappeared into the Earth's shadow, we pointed the Starmaster at the thin crescent moon, daring to blind our eyes while it was still twilight. Saturn was quickly sinking in the late spring sky, and I was a bit disappointed to see a roiling atmosphere disrupting the image in my eyepiece. So it wouldn't be a great night for planetary viewing. But as the sky turned an inky black, a myriad stars came out of hiding.

As the Milky Way became more and more apparent, we scanned the sky, checking off late spring Messier objects one by one. We even took on some challenging NGC objects, which is a new realm for me. Some of the more memorable highlights of the weekend's viewing included some awe-inspiring views of the Veil Nebula. Through my Lumicon Ultra High Contrast filter, I could make out twirling tendrils of cosmic debris. I also spent a considerable chunk of the evening tripping around Sagittarius and Scorpius, gazing in wonder at the Lagoon and Trifid Nebulas. Something that really added to my enjoyment was immersing myself as totally as possible in the views. I wore an eyepatch over my right eye and wrapped a black cloth around my head, blocking out any extraneous light. The only photons reaching my eyes came from the deepest of space. I'm sure I looked like a nut, out in a field in the middle of the night, wrapped up like a leper in Ben Hur, but it was one of the most enjoyable viewing experiences I've ever had.

There was a price to be paid for my adventure, as with dealing with all the camping gear, food and astronomical equipment, the one thing I forgot was a coat. The thermometer on my buddy's tent read 29 degrees. Ice formed on the slightly damp towel I had for wiping down my gear and my eyepieces were painfully cold to the touch. But I was not about to let some low temperatures dampen my spirits. I put on every piece of clothing I had brought with me -- every sock, every pair of underwear -- and fully enjoyed a chilly night beneath the stars.

On a side note, I've always considered myself a left-eyed observer, rarely ever using my right eye for peering through the telescope. But that night I realized that each of my eyes provides a very different view. My left eye is somehow able to pick up more light, while my right eye sees more detail. I enjoyed ping-ponging back and forth, comparing the two views.

The next night, the sky was even clearer. After spending several hours gazing through my telescope, a brilliant silver meteor persuaded me to spend some time doing some naked-eye stargazing. I took the opportunity to brush up on some of the more obscure spring and summer constellations, even learning a few I had never explored before. For example, as large as it is, I've never really familiarized myself with the serpent bearer Ophiuchus, or Equuleus the little horse, or Vulpecula the fox. After all these years of staring up at the night sky, here were new treasures to discover. I felt like I was twelve again.

The Andromeda Galaxy finally rose from behind the Sierras and I returned to my telescope, staring for what seemed an eternity at the giant wash of stars filling the eyepiece. Turning toward my tent, I found that Jupiter had cleared the grove of trees to the southeast of me, and I delayed my rendezvous with sleep just a while longer, watching the graceful and distant dance of our largest neighbor and its moons. The atmosphere had settled by now, and I got some amazing glimpses of Jupiter's bands.

After a long and fulfilling night beneath the stars, I eventually made my way to my sleeping bag grinning from ear to ear.

For those of you lucky enough to be attending GSSP, I wish for you nights like these.

Clear skies.

-Ray Fox