Sunday, October 18, 2020

Day 3951

I'm back in Dallas again. As always, I miss the Davis Mountains. The stark difference between this isolated wilderness and the urban sprawl I call home doesn't really hit me until I reach the outskirts of Fort Worth. The closer I get to home, the worse the traffic gets. I thought the streets would be fairly empty, since I was arriving on Sunday evening. Wrong. It seemed like rush hour on a normal work day to me. I counted three major accidents between downtown and my house. I had just finished a 1500 mile journey without seeing a single wreck. During my stay in the Davis Mountains, I didn't hear a single police siren or firetruck either.

There were only ten people at the astrophotography workshop. Most were serious amateur astronomers or professional photographers. Almost everyone was envious of the astronomers who lived at the observatory. "You must love living out here," we'd say. "It's so peaceful that you can almost forget that the rest of the world exists." "That's true," one of the astronomers told us, "but you have to remember that there are no good grocery stores anywhere in the area, I haven't been to a good restaurant in years, and I have to travel over one hundred miles to see my doctor."

This is definitely not a lifestyle for everyone. I'd think that you would either love it or hate it. The truth is that most of the residents at the observatory love the place and hate it. It is just so different from almost anywhere you could compare it with. If your interest is astronomy, this place remains the holy grail. It's hard to overlook the fact that Mount Locke has the darkest skies of any professional observatory in America. When you look up at the sky at night, you learn to overlook the observatory's many limitations.

I really enjoyed my trip. One of the best things was that I spent four days without any knowledge of what was happening in the rest of the world. There was no TV or radio at the ranch cabin where I stayed. I didn't even listen to the radio during the long drive to and from the observatory. During the long nights on the mountain, there was plenty of time for conversation with the nine other workshop participants. Not once did anyone mention politics. There was no talk about the election or the supreme court. Nobody argued or bickered about anything. I liked these people. These were interesting, very intelligent folks who realized that there is a lot more to life than the 24-hour news cycle.

I was amazed that I made the trip back to Dallas today on a single tank of gas. I had to stop for gas on my way to the observatory, but not on the way back. Weird. The only thing I can think of is that it takes more energy to go uphill than downhill. There's quite an increase in elevation between Dallas and Fort Davis. Consequently, it's all downhill coming back. I made the entire trip without stopping. That's a long time to remain seated. When I finally got out of the car, it felt strange to stand up again. I also really had to pee. It took me a minute or so before walking felt normal again. I wonder how long haul truckers and pilots do this sort of thing. It can't be very healthy.

McDonald Observatory is having star parties again, but it's not the same. 300 people applied to attend the most recent star party, but only 40 got to come. It's that restrictive now. Visitors don't get to look through telescopes anymore. The telescope part of the evening is all virtual now. Instead of looking through telescopes, people watch telescope images projected on a big screen set up in the outdoor amphitheater. I suspect the experience is kind of like watching a YouTube video. All of us at the workshop were wondering when the observatory would return to normal again. There weren't any answers. We were the first group to get any sort of access to the mountain. It's a start, but there is still a long way to go. As I watched a thin crescent moon set over Mount Livermore last night, I wondered when I'd be back. I just don't know.

Little Petey is today's Dalmatian of the Day


Watch of the Day