Lick Observatory, Friday August 8-9, 2003

Last night I was fortunate enough to find myself unexpectedly at Lick Observatory on Mt. Hamilton for the Summer Visitors Program. I saw many familiar faces - among them James Turley, Rich Neuschaefer, Paul Mortfield, Alan Adler and Jeff Crilly..

I have to mention Jay "Count Dracula" Freeman - with his nice brass 80mm refractor. Jay is always entertaining, and had the longest lines of summer visitors waiting to view through his small telescope.

Must have been the blood color of the planet, and Jay's cape, that was the big draw.

Before dark, in fact, before sunset the moon was a washed out but interesting target. Early arrivals were enjoying views through my 10" f/5.7 CPT, which I had tracking on an Equatorial Platform. This combination of telescope and platform performed wonderfully during the evening.

We were set up behind the hallway leading from the central corridor in the main building to the 36" Clark refractor. You could look out over the valley to the east and see the mountain's shadow cast onto the more eastern slopes. Some folks who were looking sooner than I could see the shadows of the domes on the far hillsides.

As sunset approached the sky colors to the east took on tones of amber, turquoise and deepening purple. The edge of night was easy to discern as it climbed higher in the sky. As this was occurring I walked around the building to see the sunset. A low layer of fog butted up and slightly crested the peaks to the west, and the sun sat atop this, orange and flattening, to the northwest. The bay was very evident as were the wetlands at the south end of the bay. Light glistened off the wetlands - shimmering bright. The sky took on a yellow-orange-green neon hue as the sun dropped. Some think they saw a green flash, but if there was one, it was not the "strobe" described to me at Fremont Peak a few weeks back. 10 years of astronomy and I am still waiting for a "real" green flash.

After a quick dinner the sky darkened sufficiently to pick out the Double Double off of Vega. The public was quite fascinated by the view of this pair of binaries. They split quite nicely, when the seeing steadied, even at 207X. I moved next to Alberio, also at 207X, and found again that asking people who looked to describe the colors in the pair resulted in a wide range of answers. I think the most unusual was green and purple.

Once the sky darkened more I moved to M5. The globular broke up very nicely into pinpoints at 95X, although washed out by the brightness of the moon. I stayed on M5 until it was down close to the roof of the building just north of the 36" dome. I then moved to M13, which put on a nice show for much of the rest of the evening, until the "star" of the night was in position to be worth viewing.

Mars continued to improve to the point that I was finally using a Takahashi LE 5mm with the Tele Vue 2X Big Barlow, increasing the magnification to 579X. The planet was holding up nicely, even at that high mag, although seeing was still a bit spotty. But when the image snapped in, it was a great view. I also learned that the seeing we experienced at Fremont Peak on July 26th was shared by observers all over the bay area. Last night's seeing was not nearly as steady, but still, in those moments of "still" the view was marvelous.

During the later part of the evening, once the Summer Visitors were dwindling down to a small handful, a few of us went in to look at M92 in the big refractor. Overmagnified and swimming, I looked briefly and went back out to my telescope. Later, we were offered an opportunity to view another interesting object, so a few of us "hustled" back to the scope.

While waiting in line, standing on the floor to the north of the telescope, I was able to look around and just take in the whole scene. It was more than just a visual experience. The aroma of, well, I almost want to call it "history" permeated the place. It was actually the smell of the wood floors, the metal of the big scope, and probably grease in the gears. But the view of the dimly lit dome interior, the elevating floor of inlaid woods, the slit revealing a starlit sky set off by the sharp edges of the dome opening, the long tube of the 36" rising from just to my right where the eyepiece was --- up, up, up and appearing to breach the dome, which of course it didn't, all this was a view, a visceral experience that oozed into me through all my senses. Just off the tip of the scope, set against that starry background, was the object we'd view - sitting still and bright, and red-orange.

Like smelling the wine before sipping, anticipating a fine dining experience in the finest and perhaps most exotic of locations, Mars waited. What a place to be, with the planet so big and bright, so close that we'd joked with the public that if the "Martians" were to launch an invasion, this would be the month to do so. I climbed the few steps up to the eyepiece and looked in.

Bright light. White/yellow bright light.

It reminded me of a time years ago when I took my first look at Jupiter through the 36". It was overwhelming.

So there I stood, wanting the detail, but literally blinded by the light.

Then my eye began acclimating, and the south polar cap came into view. Shortly the color of the planet changed to a white-orange and dark markings started to reveal themselves. A few more moments and the entire planet was in clear view, good detail, but somewhat soft. Honestly, the views through my 10" CPT, Rich's 180mm AP and Alan's 8" equatorial mounted Newtonian were sharper.

But none carried the feeling I got standing at the eyepiece, in that dome that was saturated with history's smells, and the thoughts of Keeler, Barnard and other famous pioneers of astronomy standing where I was, looking through the same enormous instrument.

Back outside, the pubic was gone. It was just a few of us, Mars, and the seemingly ancient dome rising up just south of our telescopes. To our north a beam of light was piercing the sky. It was one of the new tools, something Barnard and Keeler never dreamed of, slicing through the night from the big slit of the 120" dome - a bright amber yellow laser shining into the upper atmosphere, providing a false star for computers to view, and average out the atmospheric instability that played with the views at the 36, and in our own telescopes. It was a trip from the early days of the observatory, inside that 36" dome, to the latest methods - shining into the heavens with laser precision and utility. It is amazing, looking at the dome and seeing "1888" cut into the facade, then looking at that beam of light helping make today's ground-based astronomy so much better.

I could not have had a better time.

I was back home and in bed by 4:45 a.m.

But, before I walked in my front door, I looked high to the south to the big planet, remembering the wonderful night with the public looking through my telescope, and the feeling I took home with me after viewing Mars while immersed in the history of that big dome and famous instrument.

Mt. Lassen report

Yep... the folks there make the trip.

Here's the crew:

http://www201.pair.com/resource/resource-intl/nelms20031.JPG

A few folks were unable to make it.

Now for an observing report:

Wednesday night I used the 10" f/5.7 CPT and three eyepieces - a 20 Nagler Type II, 12 Nagler Type II, and 7 Nagler. A family from Seattle arrived at the north end of Devastated Area, got out and turned off all their lights. I invited them to look through the telescope. It was a grandfather, maybe a few years older than me, had several grandchildren along. The eldest was a young lady maybe 17 years old who had studied and was tested in astronomy for the National Science Foundation. She knew every object I showed, and I was able to let her explain what she was seeing to her siblings . This was very satisfying. We looked at M5, M13, M57, Alberio, the Double Double, M27, M51, M8 and others. The youngest grandchild, six years old, was getting tired so they thanked me and left. I continued, pointing my scope toward Aquila and opened the Night Sky Observers' Guide. I logged several NGC open clusters and planetary nebulae. The views were rewarding, many of the open clusters having nice hazy background of unresolved dim stars with brighter members in chains. I kept at it until fatigue forced me to take down, and return to camp. Everyone was asleep when I returned.

Thursday night I set up the 18" Obsession and revisited several of the objects I'd looked at the prior night in Aquila. But this was a shorter observing session, as the clouds gave us only intermittent views then socked in fairly early. Still, what I did see was excellent, and it was fun to just be out in such a beautiful dark sky in an amazing geologic location.

Some like Bumpass Hell parking lot, for its additional elevation and wonderful horizons, but I prefer Devastated. Devastated is 2200 feet or more lower, which I find a more comfortable elevation as far as my energy level. At over 8200 feet I feel lethargic. Everything I do is more work. I also like the very short and easy drive back from Devastated - to either Summit Lake Campground or Lost Creek. I also think it is darker at Devastated. There is just something about the negative horizons at Bumpass that makes me feel as if the Redding and Chico light domes (small as they may be), along with the small towns visible in the northern Central Valley always catch my eye. At Devastated, the horizons are good but not negative, and there are no notable light domes (except when higher clouds reflect them). Devastated is also the home site of the annual star parties at Lassen.

Friday evening I stayed in camp, watching the clouds to see if there would be a break. Others went to Devastated, but did little or no observing and returned early.

Saturday was to be the public star party, which did not happen due to poor weather. The public event is the most gratifying part of the trip. It is fun to be with friends, and to observe, but I like to see how much the public (and park staff) enjoy the 2 hours they have looking at the universe through our equipment.

We'll return next year - and chances are we'll have great weather and lots of viewed objects to report on.

Mt. Lassen report

Awesome.

I'd forgotten what it was like to enter the park through the south entrance. For years I'd been coming in from highway 44 through Anderson or Redding, then through Shingletown, turning onto highway 89 at Manzanita Lake. That entrance is serene, with tranquil Manzanita Lake on the right and Reflection Lake across the road. The volcanic past of Mt. Lassen is well disguised in the peaceful waters, fishermen in waders and tubes, families camping with children playing... all first impressions for the uninitiated to Lassen. Not until one ventures further along the road, at Chaos Jumbles and Chaos Crags does the volcanic past of the place become undeniable. Yes, the Peak is visible from Manzanita Lake, but it is more a thing of beauty than a reminder of the power and unpredictability of Mother Nature.

Quite a different story coming in from Red Bluff, taking highway 36 to Mineral then entering the park at the south end of highway 89. The terrain is steep mountainside, with thick forests of pine and manzanita opening up in meadows of cascading streams and wildflowers. The park road snakes along the edge of ancient Mt. Tehama's chasm, down into the belly of the beast where hues of red, gold, brown and yellow paint the geothermal areas. The road falls away into the valley where Mill Creek continues to cut down through the V shaped terrain. The rough edges remaining from the big volcano form a ring, including Mt. Brokeoff, Mt. Diller, Diamond Peak, Mt. Conrad, Bumpass Mountain and of course, Lassen Peak. 8,000 feet below is the bottom of the boiler. You pass the Sulpher Works, where the smell of vents penetrates even closed car windows, then continue up to Emerald Lake, which still had ice in it, past Bumpass Hell parking lot, Lake Helen, winding up arnd around in the shadow of Lassen Peak's giant lava plugs - which poke out of the sides of the peak like Frankenstein's neck-knobs, past the Peak's parking lot and down the other side past snowfields, then Kings Creek Meadow - the archetype of mountain meadows - and down to Summit Lakes and our campgrounds.

We had the same campsites as prior years when we were displaced from Lost Creek Campgounds by the native folks. I have to assume they meet for their annual get-together on new moons, since our visits have coincided several times. I would be very interested in sharing the camprgound with them, but I suspect they want to keep their festivities to just indigenous participants. It would be like us not wanting early morning hikers right in our campsite.

When we arrived at the campsite several TACos had already arrived and set up camp. By Thursday afternoon everyone that would arrive was there. We had a great group of TAC "doers" - those who maintain the web-page, arrange star parties, keep the calendar, archives and so on, along with the friends of Alan Nelms who were there to remember "Nature Boy" and the fun we'd had with him in the early years of the Lassen trips.

So day turned to sunset, we ate our camp dinners, and headed out to Devastated Area to see if the clouds would clear. It was really just a few members of the group that provided the impetus to get out there, despite the cloudy conditions. The primary instigator was Steve Gottlieb, who's presence was as "observer emeritus" for the group - Steve is always a wealth of information about interesting and challenging objects. He and Randy Muller seemed to be almost vibrating with anticipation, and succeeded in getting everyone out to the observing site.

Soon after dark the skies began clearing. The Milky Way was glorious - and everyone was busy observing here and there, as bands of clouds floated by. I spent my time in Aquarius, using my 10" f/5.7 CPT to hunt open clusters and planetary nebulae throughout the area. It was a great time. However, several observers took down their equipment early on due to lightening far to our south. It was disconcerting to see the flashes, but there was no thunder so we determined we were a safe distance from the strikes. For some time we sat in chairs, there at 6,000 feet with the volcano standing tall just to our southwest, watching the light show, peeking through our scopes, and generally having a nice time. I packed it in at about 1:30 and returned to a dark campsite, where much of the group was sacked out after the long drive and campsite setups.

I think the highlight social night was over at Ken Head's campsite, where a small fire lit up the faces of a dozen of us, talking and having drinks on Thursday night. Several of the group had driven to Devastated Area to observe, but would return shortly after 11 p.m. - it was a total cloud-out. Some joined us at Ken's campsite. A real highlight was Steve Sergeant entertaining the group with various bottles of scotch - handing out small plastic cups with samples of this type and that of good scotch. I had never liked scotch until Steve's generous sampling. It was quite a night up there - thanks to Ken and Steve.

Friday was cloudy too, in fact, cloudier than the two prior days. Dean and I went to Manzanita Lake for showers and supplies, running into, as we always do, other TACos in the store and parking lot. We sat and talked over soft-serve ice creams, watched the skies, enjoyed the local wildlife, and had a relaxing time. On the way back we stopped at the bridge over Hat Creek, parked the truck and walked back to enjoy the beaver dam holding back a nice pond, with Lassen Peak and the forest below it reflected in the still waters. The only things that convinced me it was not a staged photo was the sounds of the stream cascading downhill below the dam, and the sight of fish "pecking" at the surface creating expanding rings in the surface of the pond.

That night too some of the party went out to set up telescopes, while others remained behind, deciding to venture out only at the sight of clearing skies. By 11 p.m. rain was beginning to sprinkle the campsite. Stacy was tending the fire she built, Peter had hauled in a load of dry wood he'd collected. We were telling stories about John Hales, Rod Norden and Alan Nelms, all who were just fun and funny beyond belief during prior Lassen trips and other times in the old days at Fremont Peak. It was lots of fun.

As the light rain turned to heavier drops the observers returned. There had been little to see, a few sucker holes to the south in Scorpius, but not much. Soon after midnight everyone turned in.

During the night the sound of real rain played on our tents. It would continue through the night.

I awoke to the sound of Bob Czerwinski suggesting to me that I get up, and we all go to Shingletown for breakfast at the Big Wheel. The rain increased. The weather report was for these conditions to persist until Tuesday. Randy Muller had already packed up and left, which caused a gradual chain-reaction of others following suit. There's always one in the group, and this year Randy was the leak in the dike that turned into a flood of attendees packing up and leaving.

By the time I had thrown all my wet gear into the truck the rain had subsided to a light drizzle. Rivulets ran through the campground toward the lake. Other campers too were bailing out. We stopped by the Loomis Museum on the way out and I cancelled the public star party scheduled for that evening. It was sad to do it, but there were no astronomers left and the chances of any sky at all were minimal.

We drove out, past the Crags, tranquil Manzanita and Reflection Lakes, down to the Big Wheel and had lunch. A few hours later I pulled into my driveway and the Nelms Star Party for 2003 was a fond memory. I had a great time, I know others did too. It was proof that the sky is merely the common ground we share, but that the friendships and comradeship in our group is the real glue. I think we've been going to Lassen for 12 years now, and this is the first "skunking" on record. So now I can't wait for CalStar, just two new moons away. I enjoy the familiar faces, the new ones too, and different places we go. We have a great group in TAC. We have a fun star party at Lassen each year - where we remember Alan.

Thanks, Alan...