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A large chunk (94%) of the sun was supposed to disappear behind the moon, when viewed from the center line, on May 10th. The only problem was that I was in Berkeley and the line snuck from Mexico to Maine without gracing California. A solar eclipse, an annular one at that, seemed to be a more than sufficient reason to drive to the Lone Star state. Grant, an astronomy groupie who first broached the idea, and Josh, itinerant traveler, both of SPS fame were my honorable companions. Heading out from Berkeley, last Saturday, May 7th, at around 4pm, we drove continuously, through the morass of SoCal, exemplified by the nasal titillation provided by Kettleman city, and a large chunk of Arizona, ending up in Pipe Organ Cactus national park at 5am local time. Driving into the park was marked by the sudden compulsion of jack-rabbits to jump into our on-coming car. At least four of our hoppity friends seemed to have perished in this manner. A sad loss. The 30 minute nap we took that morning, ended with us going on a drive, 51 miles at final count, around the Saguaro Cacti and various other desert flora. The only fauna we came upon were mice. The park borders Mexico, Chiuahaua I believe, and at times we could see the vehicles on the highway there. Grant, having missed the pleasure of visiting that wonderful country, was persuaded to make a dash for it. We stopped the car, having seen nary a soul along the way, and crawled under the skimpy fence that marked the "international border" as we were later to be reminded it was. Grant had forgotten his camera, so the quick trip across was all for nought. This of course compelled us to go across again, albeit at another location, closer to the road, which we did, with photographic equipment et. al.. Posing by a Mexican highway sign, and having waved to bewildered passing motorists, our motley group of sleep deprived college students, noticed, through the brilliant desert haze, a vehicle, more likely a truck, painted in the ominous colors of the US park service waiting, with a menacing serenity, behind our car. In a manner, best described as foppish, we slithered back, mumbling at our perceived indifference to authority. Ranger Ortiz was gracious, he reminded us that we would probably have been captured by the "Federalles" and turned into the Mexican equivalent of goulash. Of course, he was more worried that we had left our car unlocked and the hordes of Mexican looters that could have been attracted through *his* fence. With down-turned heads and defiant apologies we allowed ourselves to be escorted out of the park. An adventure wouldn't you say? Our next stop was Kitt Peak National Observatory, fortuitously discovered to be on our route through El Paso, by Grant. A quick tour there, by a Greek guide, who kept saying, in the dangerously rumbling edifice of the 40-in telescope dome, "Greek Govt." whenever she meant the "US Govt.", whetted our appetites for the observational-site pilgrimage that followed. We proceeded through the wasteland that is New Mexico; an insult to the original beautiful country to the south if I ever heard one. No wonder that these deserts are the chosen places for Native American reservations. These, holding pens, as they serve, are an abomination at best. A shameful sight, in this, oh, most socially advanced of nations. If there was a redeeming factor it was this- in a gas station at Las Cruces, right on the border of Texas, was parked a hot dog truck with the following phrase emblazoned on its side:
It tickled my fancy at midnight. It was late afternoon by the time we descended upon the McDonald observatory outside fabulous Fort Davis. The UT run optical astronomy lab was a bit smaller than the one on Kitt Peak, but much more user friendly...they even let the slothering patrons look at sunspots, and the woman behind the counter was more than simply good looking, tending towards chummy. With nothing more to do till 8pm, when we were to meet Juliano, a fellow surveyor of stars, we meandered the exciting byways of Fort Davis. It was after 5pm and everything was closed. All we could find humor in was a purportedly "antique child's portable potty"(?). After sitting on the steps of the local museum and bagging on the "rurality" of it all, we repaired to a tired Mexican food eatery and whiled away the hours. Juliano was supposed to meet us at the gate of the "Prude Ranch", a dude ranch not surprisingly. This was the venue of the annual "Texas Star Party", a most monumentous event in the annals of amateur astronomy. We stayed up till 1am viewing the visible cosmos through a variety of instruments, including those which were transported about in their own trailers! The heavens were never before so subjected to shameless scrutiny in a single night. Arising at 3am (by this time we had had several petty arguments about timezones and had reverted to simply using Universal time to make things consistent), we perambulated, albeit at only land-borne pace, back to El Paso and then about 30 miles north into White Sands Missile base in the pit that is New Mexico. The center-line, the line of totality, passed through this facist (sic)-sheltering institution. Apart from the few signs which warned that unexploded shells and mines were lying about, we had little trouble in pulling off the road, setting up Grant's telescope and waiting for the eclipse. The clouds threatend, but backed off amongst our silent admonishments. Even in this peacetime, the base was abuzz with activity, with trucks scurrying to and fro and several helicopters flying above us, not to mention the various MPs who regarded us with belligerent bemusement. The eclipse lasted for 2 hours; four minutes of which were totality. Through the telescope we could make out ridges on the moon; the sight was worth our mad dash. Unfortunately, the birds did not stop chirping and it was as a slightly cloudy day, albeit bluish, but not dark. The rest of the trip could only be a denouement. We found plenty of road signs to amuse us, including one for "Tank Crossing". Apart from such inane pleasures, we attempted and succeeded at the merely conventional. Our last astronomy stop was the VLA or Very Large Array, the single largest installation to do Radio interferometry in the world, soon to be superseded by the VLBA, or Very Large Baseline Array, that spans several continents. My car-mates were repeated annoyed by my singular insistence that Interferometry, (Hanbury-Brown, Twiss, or Fabry-Perot) was the way to go. That every measurement process was reducible to this method. Put three physics-types in a car and this is what you get. We also couldn't figure out if there were any radioactive substances that gave off radiation in the visible. Remarkably, we resisted the urge to rip-open each other, to the innards. Then again, we were probably too tired and cranky to have substantial and useful bloodletting. We visited Meteor Crater, a large hole in the ground with little to recommend it except that is making the Berringer family and investors oodles of money, and Montezuma's Castle, a mis-named cliff dwelling about 700 years old supposedly used by the Sinagua Indians. The final drive through Arizona, by towns which seemed to owe the remarkably homogeneous tourists their only reason for existence, was punctuated by a most exhilarating drive through Oak Creek Canyon. We drove, through the night, to return to our by now beloved California, and Berkeley at 5am. |