Notes to self, part 437.
- When I am at my desk, preparing for tonight’s observing.
- And it is evening.
- If an email arrives from the satellite tracking app, you could open it.
- Be aware that this alert is for tonight.
- You did bring clothing for the weather, right?
- Not that it matters. You don’t pay attention to these things.
- Maybe you should.
- Come to think of it, you do recall thinking, this morning, that you could get away with not paying attention today, since you figured you’d be inside anyway.
- Running late, you were in a hurry.
- And you are lazy, when possible: it makes life more efficient.
- You bring your digital camera with you to the Observatory, because you never know what will demand photos on any given day.
- Or night.
- Mountain weather dances, flits, pirouettes.
- Cloud formations tend to be awesome.
- Atmospheric effects abound.
- Evanescent.
- Most, even in such a wondrous, sky-dance land, never look up.
- Is the mundaneness of our daily routines so important? That we must concentrate our gaze, glazed, on the mud of our feet?
- This is a great sadness.
- According to the alert, the International Space Station is due to pass overhead.
- Tonight.
- It is an especially good pass:
- For once, its path will track straight overhead.
- For once, it will largely miss the Earth’s shadow.
- This means the ISS will be a bright beacon from nearly horizon to horizon.
- This means it must be nearly either a north-to-south or a south-to-north pass. Ah, spatial geometry.
- For once, this good fortune is not tied to a predawn pass.
- You do not function well in the predawn hours.
- To compensate, Murphy’s Law will demand its due.
- It always does.
- This is consistent with observation.
- You hypothesize that this is a conservation law.
- Murison’s Corollary: When fortuitous good things happen, the balance of the Universe must be restored.
- Count on it.
- It always does.
- Fire up the satellite ephemeris program you wrote.
- Fetch the latest orbital elements from space-track.org.
- Create plots of azimuth and height above the horizon.
- Check that your observing window matches the alert’s prediction.
- Glance at the outside temperature: +12°F.
- You are surprised.
- But then you remember this morning, and your decision to leave the coat, the scarf, the gloves, behind.
- Tell yourself: that’s okay, this should be quick, it’s not that cold.
- Grab the camera and head outside ten minutes early.
- Always start early. Things go wrong.
- Rats: you didn’t bring a tripod.
- Hand-held video recording it is, then.
- You are secretly a little relieved at not being able to try anything fancy.
- Even though nobody else is here, it feels like a secret.
- Can we really keep secrets from ourselves?
- The door locks behind you: click.
- Memory trigger.
- Check your pocket for keys. After it locks behind you.
- This strikes you as humorous.
- Find a good spot: the middle of the small parking lot.
- Unobstructed view north, west, and south.
- The main telescope dome, three stories high, with a halo of Flagstaff light pollution, swallows the eastern sky.
- The satellite is on a south-to-north path tonight.
- Yes, this is perfect.
- The southwest wind is brisk.
- Unpack and check your camera.
- Breathe. Go slow. Be methodical. Think.
- Everything functions as expected.
- You don’t expect this. What will be the yin to this yang?
- +12°F is cold.
- Bare hands in +12°F will quickly go numb.
- Forty-five seconds to a minute, tops.
- You will marvel at the pain, though you cannot feel anything.
- Configure and start your camera before this happens.
- Check your watch: seven minutes to go.
- This, too, is unexpected.
- Try not to think about your body heat rapidly fleeing with the wind, that thief.
- Your warm, warm, cozy, comfortable body heat.
- Via your hands, and neck, and head, and feet.
- When did these jeans become so thin?
- Seven minutes is an eternity.
- When there is nothing to do but not think about how uncomfortable it is.
- When standing exposed in the wind.
- When it is +12°F.
- Keep your eyes on the view through the camera.
- Is that it, there, low in the southwest?
- Look up, blink-flick distorting tears, and verify with your eyes: yes, there it is.
- Right on time.
- In the right place.
- Glorious.
- Follow it slowly up, and over, and down to the northeast, where it softly slips into shadow before reaching the treeline. The five-minute pass passes quickly.
- Now you cannot feel your feet.
- It is done.
- Note the satisfaction in your gut: good data acquired, it says.
- Bask in that warmth as you lean down to pack up.
- And then your circumstances impinge.
- Fifteen minutes is a surprisingly long time when it’s +12°F out.
- And you’re wearing only a t-shirt and light jacket.
- And Birkies.
- If you can’t feel anything with the stumps at the ends of your arms, there will be consequences.
- You won’t be able to turn off or stow your camera.
- It will be surprisingly hard, and hence take a surprisingly large number of tries, and hence take a surprisingly long time, to get your key into the door lock and scurry back inside, to your office.
- Where it is not +12°F.
Camera: Canon G3 X. Video processed using kdenlive.