Navigating the Celestial Hot Tub 4
Printed in Astronomy Magazine, March 1992
After much careful thought, we enrolled in our local college's class on celestial navigation. But why?
We soon noticed that our fellow students either already owned yachets capable of sailing at least to Hawaii, or had been building a boat for years and now, about finished, were eager to embark on long dreamed cruises to the unknown. A couple of hearty young men had obtaineed good paying jobs on fishing boats. Most all had perfectly logical reasons to be in this class.They were preparing themselves for possible life and death struggles with the open sea.
On the other hand our two very small boats, lying on the sand below our deck (one a row boat for fishing, the other a catamaran, sort of a beat up trampoline with pontoons) were clearly meant for staying fairly close to shore. If we should find ourselves in need of navigation for either, we would definately require the services of the Coast Guard. So why were we spending two nights a week
studying celestial navigation? I think it was the word Celestial. It has such a nice ring to it. So Bob and I decided to enroll. I reasoned: You never knew when we might be tempted to take a Love Boat Cruise. Remember the Titanic!
The first thing I noticed after paying the tuition and investing in the books and equipment, was that the three very large textbooks seemed to contain more letters than numbers. Oh, oh... this is going to be a long semester! I'm not a number person. The best thing was that celestial navigation lent itself very well to hot tub study. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad after all.
Luckily we found ourselves in the hands of an excellent teacher, who had years of experience sailing around the world and an inexhaustible supply of breathtaking sea stories. And a way of making us all understand the importance of studying well.
The first thing we learned was that from now on we had to suspend belief in all that we had learned about astronomy From this day on the Earth is the center of the Universe, and all bodies, the Sun, the Moon, Planets, and Stars are all rotating around us. We were all now on the Terrestrial Sphere and all else was on the Celestial Sphere. What we would learn to do is measure the distance of a given star or planet above the horizon. We would accomplish this with the help of newly issued sextants and our copies of the Nautical Almanac. By finding the star on our charts and plotting its altitude, we could determine just where on Earth we were. Sounds simple enough!
Failing that, our teacher said, "You can always use the butter method to get to Hawaii." With all the curious eyes on him, He continued. "Take the butter out of the icebox, set it on the counter and sail south until the butter melts, then turn right, and Presto! Hawaii!"
After learning a host of new terms and our way around the gadgets on the sextant,
we were taught how to shoot the Sun at meridian passage (high noon) and to sight the moon. We accomplished this by standing on the rocks by the nearby jetty, and often from the school sail boat, a beat-up craft, apparently sea worthy, donated to the school. Soon we were, hopefully, ready to sight the stars.
W climbed a board the good ship "Hot Tub" a little early the next night, anxious to try on our own. Our Nautical Almanac contained a chart for each day of the year, and on this day's chart we found the time of the end of civil twilight in our latitude, that's when the sun is six degrees below the horizon. At that time we must be prepared to take our star's sighting.Before that time it's too light to see the stars and very soon after it;s too dark to see the horizon.
At this time that I used to simply call, sunset, I sat comfortably warm in the bubbling water, and adjusted the mirrors on my little plastic sextant, thinking all the while of those intrepid explorers who struggled aboard heaving ships, constantly fighting the wind, cold and salty spray as they worked their way across the oceans. This funny little sextant must have been very badly needed, for it was invented similtaneously in England and America in 1735.
I was fiddling with the mirrors, trying to determine possible sextant error by looking at the split in the horizon (the two images had to coincide) I slowly and carefully brought the image of Sirius down to the edge of the water. "Mark!" I punched the the stopwatch. When the book says "time", it means the exact time to the second. That means learning how many seconds your watch is off from the time signal from the Atomic clock in Washinton D.C. WWV.
Next I turned on my flashlight and squinted to read the delicate altitude numbers etched on the sextant. After writing these things on my sight reduction chart, I waited for the next star. I already knew it would be Betelegeuse, followed by Rigel. Orion hovered in its celestial location. The plotting would be done later at the kitchen table. I hoped the sightings would show that we were some place close to 33 degrees, 27 minutes west 117 degrees, 41 minutes north---our known position.
Actually, I was disapointed. My sightings moved our hot tub about a mile inland, with no view of the ocean. However our teacher said that in the middle of the Pacific Ocean, that was a passable sighting.
This class was very enjoyable, even for a semi-landlubber.
Next, we decided, we will sign up for the class in "Pilot Ground School", even though we don't have an airplane. Bob flew C47 transports in World War ll. When you're retired you can do whatever you find interesting, Right?
Update....
That was twenty years ago. We took the Pilot ground school and really enjoyed it. It was taught by an ex-Navy Jet Jockey, who was very knowledgeable. I was in way over my head, but Bob tutored me along and the teacher was very tolerant of those in the class who had no intention to actully fly. When it came to the final exam, I paid close attention to my husband, tutor, experienced pilot and memorized all he taught me. Then a funny thing happened. I got all of the questions right and Bob missed one!
I aked him how that could happen, when all of my answers came directly from him. He said he got to thinking about one and changed... "Oh so that's it. you understood it and could think about it. I know nothing except what you taught me and could not think about it at all."
The late 2000's found our son, J.R. and family living in a Texas Airpark with a hanger in back of the house and a cute little plane inside. And one of our daughters, Pam, now a grandmother with her pilot's license, part of a flying club with planes and a member of the Civil Air Patrol.
What we took for fun! They took seriously! Hooray!
Watch for the next hot tub story, "The mystery of the Red and Green Lights5
Sunday, April 4, 2010
Hot Tub Astronomy, 5: Mystery of the Red and Green Flashing Lights
The "Mystery of the Red and Green Flashing Lights" was published in Astronomy Magazine in about 1989. I have misplaced my copy and am not certain of the issue.
The night was very clear, so we climbed into the hot tub fully equipt with binoculars, star charts and both hot and cold drinks. We cruised the skies confortably aboard our tub of bubbling hot water, looking at the sky above the cold water of the Pacific ocean. I looked from the sky above the waves and back at the chart puzzeled. "I have never noticed a star so low in the sky before." I told Bob. He turned his binoculars on the star in question.
"Funny thing about your star." My husband said. "It has red and green lights flashing on it."
"Then what is it? An airplane, helicopter,what? It's too high to be a ship mast. If it were a plane it would be moving faster. I took the binoculars and there they were, the red and green lights, twinkling on both sides of the white light. My new star was just two fingers above the horizon, an area often obscured by a peach colored finger of smog, floating down in the distance from Los Angeles.
"Maybe it's a weather balloon." Bob suggested.
"Probably it's on a tether to keep it from drifting away." I was losing interest and began casting about in search of a high traveling satellite. Bob spotted one once, I was still looking.
I glanced back at my low star and measured it with my two fingers. I looked up at the Gemini twins, Pollux and Castor always just four fingers apart. With that confirmation of my accurate measure, I turned back to the "star". Now a tiny bit lower than two fingers and just a tad further from the apartment building on our right that I had measured it against with my hand. Maybe the balloon was tied to a boat and bobbing about on the waves. "Oh well!" I was getting water logged watching the star move so slowly. Bob rose to get out and commented,
"The Navy has a base on San Clemente Island. Perhaps it's something of theirs."
"Probably. But it sure looks like a star."
The next night we noticed first thing as soon as we settled in was that our low star was still there. Two fingers up and three hands from the apartments.
"I called around and tried to find someone who knew what that light was." Bob told me. "No luck though. No one knew what I was talking about."
"Who did you call?" I wondered.
"The Weather Bureau, the Coast Guard, and the Harbor Patrol. I figured if it wasn't theirs, one of them would have seen it and know what it is.."
"Did anyone?" He shook his head, no. "No one had ever heard of it or even remembered seeing it. It must not be very important, what ever it is."
That night we began to notice that it moved exactly with Sirius, which was right above it. That became our way of finding it. We'd look up at Orion, then left, over to Sirius and down almost to the water. Some nights the low smog or clouds over the horizon obscured it. If it was clear, it was there: a white star that flashed red and green into the binocs, which none of our Star maps explained. We showed it to all guests, who began to refer to it as "Your flying saucer".
I have now given enough clues for a serious astronomer to know what we had found. Indeed the first "Real Astronomer" we asked knew exactly what we were seeing.
We decided, one Sunday to take a drive to Mount Palomar. We knew that they had a huge 200 inch telescope that had been caravaned up the mountain road at night because the truck carrying it took up the whole road. I don't remember the year, but I was a school girl at the time. I couldn't think why it took us so long to get around to going there.
We signed up for the guided tour with 30 other visitors, led by a young man from Cal.Tech. He did a wonderful job discribing the three large telescopes and explaining their different uses. Afterwards, he stood patiently and answered questions from the group. Most wanted to know more about him and his interests.
"He explained that he was a student of astronomy and yes, he did get time at the big scopes. He would make those his life's work..."not giving tours," he added with a smile.
Bob finally asked him about the light we saw from our perch at sea level in Laguna Beach. "It seems to be a star, "he explained carefully, "but the flashing red and green lights we saw in the binoculars confused us.
"I understand." he told us at once.
At last someone who doesn't act as if we are seeing flying saucers! We moved in closer as he explained, "What you are seeing is Canopus in the southern hemisphere. It's in the southern constellation, Carina, part of Argo. It's the brightest star in the southern sky." Some of the group left, others closed in to hear the explaination of this odd star, Canopus which they had not seen or even heard about. "Technically, it cannot be seen from here, which is why it is not shown on star maps of the Northern Hemisphere. However," he added with a little smile, "if the conditions are just right, the bright light from Canopus is bent by our atmophere, and it appears to be just a couple of degrees above our horizon.The red and green flashing lights are the result of the starlight traveling at different speeds through the Earth's atmosphere. To you it will seem to set into the Pacific Ocean just a little way from where it first appears as it follows it's arc across the sky, right ahead of our Orion, as you may have noticed."
"It must be easier for you to see, way up here on top of this mountain." I suggested. This brought a big smile from our young host.
"Yes indeed!" He laughed, "Just as the flea has a much better look at the moon, when he jumps on the dog's back." Now we all laughed.
We thanked him for solving our mystery and left very contented.
Watch for the next Hot Tub story.
The night was very clear, so we climbed into the hot tub fully equipt with binoculars, star charts and both hot and cold drinks. We cruised the skies confortably aboard our tub of bubbling hot water, looking at the sky above the cold water of the Pacific ocean. I looked from the sky above the waves and back at the chart puzzeled. "I have never noticed a star so low in the sky before." I told Bob. He turned his binoculars on the star in question.
"Funny thing about your star." My husband said. "It has red and green lights flashing on it."
"Then what is it? An airplane, helicopter,what? It's too high to be a ship mast. If it were a plane it would be moving faster. I took the binoculars and there they were, the red and green lights, twinkling on both sides of the white light. My new star was just two fingers above the horizon, an area often obscured by a peach colored finger of smog, floating down in the distance from Los Angeles.
"Maybe it's a weather balloon." Bob suggested.
"Probably it's on a tether to keep it from drifting away." I was losing interest and began casting about in search of a high traveling satellite. Bob spotted one once, I was still looking.
I glanced back at my low star and measured it with my two fingers. I looked up at the Gemini twins, Pollux and Castor always just four fingers apart. With that confirmation of my accurate measure, I turned back to the "star". Now a tiny bit lower than two fingers and just a tad further from the apartment building on our right that I had measured it against with my hand. Maybe the balloon was tied to a boat and bobbing about on the waves. "Oh well!" I was getting water logged watching the star move so slowly. Bob rose to get out and commented,
"The Navy has a base on San Clemente Island. Perhaps it's something of theirs."
"Probably. But it sure looks like a star."
The next night we noticed first thing as soon as we settled in was that our low star was still there. Two fingers up and three hands from the apartments.
"I called around and tried to find someone who knew what that light was." Bob told me. "No luck though. No one knew what I was talking about."
"Who did you call?" I wondered.
"The Weather Bureau, the Coast Guard, and the Harbor Patrol. I figured if it wasn't theirs, one of them would have seen it and know what it is.."
"Did anyone?" He shook his head, no. "No one had ever heard of it or even remembered seeing it. It must not be very important, what ever it is."
That night we began to notice that it moved exactly with Sirius, which was right above it. That became our way of finding it. We'd look up at Orion, then left, over to Sirius and down almost to the water. Some nights the low smog or clouds over the horizon obscured it. If it was clear, it was there: a white star that flashed red and green into the binocs, which none of our Star maps explained. We showed it to all guests, who began to refer to it as "Your flying saucer".
I have now given enough clues for a serious astronomer to know what we had found. Indeed the first "Real Astronomer" we asked knew exactly what we were seeing.
We decided, one Sunday to take a drive to Mount Palomar. We knew that they had a huge 200 inch telescope that had been caravaned up the mountain road at night because the truck carrying it took up the whole road. I don't remember the year, but I was a school girl at the time. I couldn't think why it took us so long to get around to going there.
We signed up for the guided tour with 30 other visitors, led by a young man from Cal.Tech. He did a wonderful job discribing the three large telescopes and explaining their different uses. Afterwards, he stood patiently and answered questions from the group. Most wanted to know more about him and his interests.
"He explained that he was a student of astronomy and yes, he did get time at the big scopes. He would make those his life's work..."not giving tours," he added with a smile.
Bob finally asked him about the light we saw from our perch at sea level in Laguna Beach. "It seems to be a star, "he explained carefully, "but the flashing red and green lights we saw in the binoculars confused us.
"I understand." he told us at once.
At last someone who doesn't act as if we are seeing flying saucers! We moved in closer as he explained, "What you are seeing is Canopus in the southern hemisphere. It's in the southern constellation, Carina, part of Argo. It's the brightest star in the southern sky." Some of the group left, others closed in to hear the explaination of this odd star, Canopus which they had not seen or even heard about. "Technically, it cannot be seen from here, which is why it is not shown on star maps of the Northern Hemisphere. However," he added with a little smile, "if the conditions are just right, the bright light from Canopus is bent by our atmophere, and it appears to be just a couple of degrees above our horizon.The red and green flashing lights are the result of the starlight traveling at different speeds through the Earth's atmosphere. To you it will seem to set into the Pacific Ocean just a little way from where it first appears as it follows it's arc across the sky, right ahead of our Orion, as you may have noticed."
"It must be easier for you to see, way up here on top of this mountain." I suggested. This brought a big smile from our young host.
"Yes indeed!" He laughed, "Just as the flea has a much better look at the moon, when he jumps on the dog's back." Now we all laughed.
We thanked him for solving our mystery and left very contented.
Watch for the next Hot Tub story.
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