Sunday, June 16, 2013
My Favorite Star Parties: Peach State Star Gaze 2000
While there
were some stretches of blue during the day, it was clear I probably wouldn’t
see much this past Saturday night, muchachos. Still, I stuck to my resolution,
“If it ain’t raining, head to the dark site.” I just did it in a less arduous
fashion than if I’d packed even a C8. My ETX 125, Charity Hope Valentine, an eyepiece case, and a few odds and ends went in the
4Runner painlessly and we were off for the Possum Swamp Astronomical Society
observing field 15-minutes after I decided bad weather wasn’t imminent.
There, I was
pleased to have the company of a couple of my buddies, Mike and Max. I was not
so pleased at the condition of the sky. Those blue patches had shrunk, and by
the time I got my little ETX girlfriend’s tripod set up, they had disappeared
completely. Worse, as us three die-hards stood looking at the sky, the southern
horizon began to be illuminated by an awesome lightning display. Even then we
weren’t hasty, but after 45-minutes of the sky becoming ever more threatening, we
had to admit it was throw in the towel time. Dadgummit.
So, this
Sunday morning you-all get yet another star party reminiscence. Specifically
one about our neighboring state, Georgia’s, premier amateur astronomy shindig. I’ve
featured Peach State in this series once before, and made my way there a total
of three times back in the early years of this century. If I liked it so
dang much, then why didn’t I go more? I got caught up in my usual quest
for the elusive More Better Gooder.
Back when
Peach State was held in the spring, I chose the Texas Star Party instead of
PSSG a couple of times. When Peach State moved to the fall, it was up against
our local event, The Deep South Regional Star Gaze and, later, the Chiefland
Star Party, neither of which I was inclined to miss. Still, I liked PSSG, which got started in 1994, and
would probably have had as good a time there and seen as much as at those other
star parties (with the exceptions of TSP 1999 and 2001, natch).
Anyhoo, I
did go to PSSG those three times, 2000, 2001, and 2002. I might even get back
there someday. It’s in a new location (its third), the dark Deerlick Astronomy
Village. I just haven’t been able to work out the accommodations problem. The motels
in the area seem a little far from the site from what I can tell, and old Unk
ain’t much for the dern tent-camping scene anymore, as y’all know.
To be honest,
I was also a little skeptical about Peach State’s original location. The venue
for the event, Indian Springs State Park near the tiny town of Jackson, Georgia,
was not far from Atlanta. Near enough, less than 50-miles, to be within range
of that city’s enormous light dome. Why did
I do PSSG the first time, then? Miss Dorothy’s schedule meant there was no way
we’d be able to attend The Texas Star Party in 2000, the Mid South Star Gaze
had been a bust in ’96 and I wasn’t anxious to go there again, and I was yet to
be initiated into the joys of the Chiefland Spring Picnic. That left Peach
State.
Despite the
nearness of Indian Springs to Atlanta, I expected it would be a pretty good
star party anyway. Couldn’t help but be given the presence of keynote speaker Antonin Rükl, author of The Atlas of the Moon, a work still sought
after and used by us Lunatics today. It would be worth the trip just to hear
him speak, I reckoned. I expected lots of good otherwise, too. The chief cook-and-bottle-washer
at the time, Ken Poshedly, "Kenpo" to his buddies, was someone whose good reputation
as an organizer was known to me. In fact, PSSG’s sponsoring club, The Atlanta Astronomy Club, was blessed with a large number
of talented boys and girls.
The only
slight complication? I had agreed to teach a Thursday night section at the
University that spring. Didn’t want to cancel or ask a colleague to cover for
me, so I’d only be able to do two days of the star party, Friday and Saturday.
I reckoned that was actually OK; if I didn’t like the star party’s skies,
accommodations, or programs, I could still stand two days’ worth. I can stand
two days’ worth of almost anything.
There was
one other bring-down. I was sorry to be making the drive up to Atlanta by
myself. I’d never been to Atlanta before I met Miss Dorothy, and I’d never been
up there without her since, but Miss D. just couldn’t make PSSG and I was blue
about that. Nevertheless, I was up bright and early—at my normal get-up time
for those years, 5 a.m.—packed, and on the road by 6:30.
What did I
pack? The Ultima C8, Celeste, then still on her massive non-go-to fork mount,
and my Celestron Short Tube 80, Woodstock, on his EQ-1 German mount. Otherwise?
Pretty light load for the ’96 Camry. I had our picnic canopy, observing table,
eyepieces, logbook, ice chest, sleeping bag, suitcase, and what I considered the star atlas of the day, The Herald-Bobroff
Astroatlas.
As you-all
know if you’ve been reading this blog for even a little while, on those rare
occasions when I use a print atlas today it’s the little (but good) Sky and
Telescope’s Pocket Sky Atlas. Mostly it’s been computerized sky
charts for me for years. Back in 2000, though, I was still a non-go-to, non-laptop
kinda guy. I thought Herald-Bobroff was the best atlas in the whole world, and
in some ways I guess I still do.
HB, from
Australia, was different from the other popular atlases of the time, Sky Atlas 2000 and Uranometria 2000. Herald-Bobroff went deep, as deep as 14th
magnitude for stars, so there were lots of charts, but fewer you had to contend
with in Uranometria’s 664 pages (in two volumes). HB was in a larger format, 16.5
by 12.5-inches, than Uranometria, so there didn’t need to be as many pages.
Uranometria is best used in conjunction with a wider-field atlas like Sky Atlas 2000. Start paging through Uranometria
and you’d soon be lost in all those pages—Unk would be, anyhow. No getting lost
in Herald-Bobroff, and not just because of its lower page count.
HB, was
different, you see; it was divided into six series
of charts, with each series going deeper. You could start out with Sky Atlas 2000-like maps, but if you
needed more detail you could go up to something like Uranometria’s charts. The
wide-field maps had labels showing which larger scale chart covered the same
area. To top it all off, HB’s pages were printed on heavy, glossy paper nearly
invulnerable to Possum Swamp or Indian Springs dew.
I went
computer-crazy in 2002 with go-to scopes and computerized charting in the field
and never looked back or regretted doing so, but I still love H-B, even if I
rarely use it. I do pull it out ever’ once in a while and look at it, and am
happy I have it. I must be, since the (now out of print) atlas, especially the
original version I have, commands mucho-dineros on the used market. I just
can’t seem to part with it.
Same goes
for the other book I took with me to PSSG, Antonin Rükl’s Lunar atlas, Atlas of the Moon. Why in Sam Hill did
Unk take a lunar atlas to a star party? Because of Mr. Rükl. In his honor, the
AAC scheduled the 2000 PSSG so there would be a small Moon in the sky early in
the evenings. I thought it would be fun to do a little Moon gazing with the
Atlas and wanted to get Mr. Rükl to sign his work if possible.
Computer
applications like Patrick Chevalley and Christian Legrand’s Virtual Moon Atlas and DVD copies of various formerly “professional” reference
tools like The Consolidated Lunar Atlas
have put Atlas of the Moon in the
same place SkyTools 3 and TheSky have put Herald-Bobroff and
Uranometria. But, just as with H-B, I still treasure my copy of Rükl’s atlas and
have no intention of selling it despite the fact that I could no-doubt get plenty
of buckeroos for it.
Before I
could take a look at the Moon with Mr. Rükl, I had to get to Indian Springs.
The drive up freaking I-65 to I-85, then or now, is a royal pain. Flat, nothing
to see, nowhere good to stop. Without Miss D. along all I could do was listen
to a book on tape, on an actual cassette tape then, Stephen King’s Grand Guignol-strained-through-post-Vietnam-blues
Skeleton Crew. Other than that, the
only highlight of the drive to Montgomery was a stop at our favorite Interstate
joint of the day, Stuckey’s. You know
what, though? Even my fave junk-food treat, the foot-long chili-cheese dog (with
onions and mustard, natch), tasted of wormwood without Miss Dorothy along.
The rest of
the trip went faster. Seemed to, anyhow. Through Montgomery (at a slow place
due to road construction that still goes on to this day), past Auburn and Tuskegee,
over the Georgia line, and to Exit 41, Newnan. From there, it was two-lanes
most of the rest of the way, with plenty of log trucks and farm tractors for me
to get behind.
Despite Old McDonalds
and slow trucks in profusion, before long I was past the little town of
Jackson, which appeared to have been dropped straight out of the 1930s. With
the aid of the excellent directions I got off the Auburn Astronomical Society’s (AAS) website, I made the turn for
Indian Springs’ group camp area where the PSSG was held, Camp Macintosh,
without incident. Well, almost. Unk being Unk, I missed the last turn, but I
realized what I’d done right away.
Soon enough,
I was pulling up at Camp Macintosh’ impressive main building, which served as
registration headquarters, dining hall, and meeting place for the star party. I
got my t-shirt and registration packet and bunkhouse assignment, and it was
time to head for the field for telescope set up.
Rut-roh. On Friday afternoon, it was
wall-to-wall astronomers, over 200 folks easy, packed in like sardines on an
observing field not quite as big as I thought it would be. About football field
size, maybe. Not only was the AAC a large club, Peach State was now drawing
folks from Alabama and Tennessee as well as the Atlanta/Georgia area. Wasn’t
sure I’d be able to set up on the
main field.
Being an
astro-writer has its ups and downs, but thankfully the ups outnumber the downs.
One of the ups is that you get noticed. While I wasn’t speaking at PSSG 2000, a
number of AAC folks recognized me as a “personality,” including a group on the
south end of the field: “HEY UNK, HEY
UNK! GET YOURSELF OVER HERE! WE DONE SAVED A SPOT FOR YOU!”
I don’t know
if they’d really been saving a spot
for me, but there was a place on the south end of the field just big enough for
me, Celeste, Woodstock, and the observing table. Didn’t look like I’d have room
to put up my tent canopy, but that didn’t appear to be a problem. My new
friends seemed eager to share their shade with me. I’ve said it before and I
will say it again: amateur astronomers, like amateur radio operators, are some of the nicest people it’s been my
privilege to be associated with.
After I’d
set up the scopes, placed the ice chest in the shade of a canopy, and got
everything else set out for a night of observing, I took a look at the sky.
Spring in Georgia and anywhere else in the South can be touch-and-go weather-wise,
but it seemed certain we’d get some hours in on Friday evening. Mite hazy, but
not bad. The main question in Unk’s mind wasn’t about the weather; it was “How
bad is the Atlanta light dome?” That would have to wait till dark for an answer.
Udder than
that? It was going on four, and a look at the PSSG schedule in the nice program
in the packet I got at the registration desk said I’d missed all Friday’s presentations.
That was alright; there were plenty of talks scheduled for Saturday, including Mr.
Rükl’s keynote. Most of the presentations were lunar/planetary in nature this
year in keeping with the “theme” of PSSG 2000, but there were some deep sky talks
scheduled, too, and I was given a copy of the star party observing list, the
famous “Peach Fuzzies” program. In addition, in 2000 there was a “Peach Pits”
list of interesting Lunar features (get it, y’all?).
Field setup
complete, it was time to check out the housing situation. No, the accommodations
were not in the same class as the centrally heated and air-conditioned cabins
at DSRSG’s Percy Quin, which I’d come to take for granted, but they were OK.
Large open-bay barracks, as we used to call ‘em in the military, big rooms
filled with GI bunk beds and an adjoining large bathroom. Not bad at all and
nothing outside my range of experience. Plenty of room, too. Since many folks
had chosen to tent-camp on the field or had RVs or travel trailers, the PSSG
only had to use two bunkhouses, with one being reserved for men and one for
women.
What was
there to do, then, but trot back to the field, see who was there, and begin to
think about suppertime? If there was a drawback to PSSG in them days, it was
the meal-plan or lack of much of one. There was lunch, burgers and dogs sold by
the AAC, but no supper. What to do? I ran into an old Deep South buddy of mine,
Russell Whigham from the Auburn club. Accompanied by a couple of other bubbas,
we were soon taking off for Jackson in Russell’s truck in search of grub.
Mr. Whigham
recommended this excellent barbeque joint the star partiers had discovered, Fresh Air Barbeque, but we were
overruled by one of our number who said he had a weak stomach and insisted on freaking MacDonalds. Don’t
ask me why greasy Mickey D’s food would be better than home-style barbeque, but
we took pity on him and I wound up with a cotton-picking Quarter Pounder (no
cheese, at least).
Back on the
field, I did a little wandering around in advance of darkness, both to see who
else was there and what they had brought. In addition to Kenpo, who was pretty
danged busy, I ran into two fellow club members, the late Marvin Uphaus and his
girlfriend, Betsy Hopson. They had a nice vintage Meade 10-inch 2120 SCT at
their disposal. Marvin, who’d got the scope for a song, had even managed to
adapt one of Meade’s inexpensive Magellan I digital setting circle computers for
it and was ready to rock. Betsy was at the controls of a beautiful 1990s
white-tube C5+.
There was a
large selection of scopes old and new on the field, including some of them
futuristic-looking Celestron NexStar 5s, which Unk was right curious about. I
was mostly curious to see how well one worked and whether this scope,
Celestron’s first go-to rig since the kinda ill-fated Ultima 2000, might be a
hit for the Big C, who was struggling at the time.
Then, after a
long wait—curse the dadgum Daylight Savings Time—it was finally dark in Indian
Springs. The question in Unk’s mind was “How dark will it get?” Was the sky
perfect? No. How could it be with that megalopolis barely fifty miles away? Yet,
it was OK and more than good enough for purty serious deep sky work. The light
dome was visible and prominent, but it was in the relatively uninteresting
northwest, and I was never much bothered by it.
Before
hitting the deep sky, though, it was time to give my old friend Hecate a
look-see. Luna was slim, but not so slim as to be devoid of interesting sights,
and the Ultima 8 did a fine job on her in the steady spring skies. As I was
Moon-watching intently, I heard a heavily accented voice at my elbow: “Can I have a look?”
Mr. Antonin Rükl
dern sure could. Tony had just retired from his permanent position at the
Prague Planetarium and was obviously having a ball observing and hanging out
with amateur astronomers. My fellow Lunar observers are invariably impressed
when I tell them the scope they are looking through, Celeste, was once used by
Antonin Rükl to gaze at a yellow Georgia Moon.
When the
Moon was gone, it was time for Virgo and her multitudinous galaxies. I
started out with the mind-blowing Markarian’s Chain and then cruised north and
south in search of as many glorious night birds, Messiers and NGCs, as I could bag.
Biggest surprise of the night? How well Woodstock the Short Tube 80 did on galaxies. Not
only was he able to reveal plenty of objects, and not just Ms, he showed
considerable detail in the brighter ones.
Woodstock’s
amazing performance was mostly a testament to the good conditions we were
experiencing, decent transparency early in the evening and surprisingly good
seeing—amateurs tend to forget atmospheric steadiness can have almost as big an
effect on deep sky objects as on planets. I’ve often found a supposedly
marginal site can outdo a “better” one when the conditions are right.
Not that the
sky was perfect all night long. It was obvious a front was creeping up on us,
and later in the evening I had to take frequent cloud-breaks. Which was OK. I’d
wander over to the main building, guzzle coffee, and gobble the Little Debbie
cakes the AAC was selling all night long. I spent a pleasant half-hour with
Kenpo discussing the current state of the amateur astronomy biz before the
clouds scudded off and it was back to the field for more galaxies.
In addition
to my own observing, I watched interestedly as the dude set up next to me did
CCD imaging with an Ultima 2000. Looked complicated, but Unk was fascinated and
impressed. Seeing somebody actually imaging the sky electronically on a star
party field was one of the things that impelled me to get my first CCD the next
year, an humble Starlight Xpress MX516 that at least got me started.
I wasn’t
sure what the weather gods would decree for Saturday night, so I hit it hard Friday
until we were clouded out for good at 3 a.m. I still wasn’t sleepy, though—I
was on a high in the wake of an outstanding evening. I broke out the Rebel Yell
bottle and hung out on the field for at least another hour before slowly, ever
so slowly, moseying back to the bunkhouse.
I awoke about nine or so after a surprisingly restful night on the GI bunk. After my
morning ablutions, I poked my head outside. What I saw was not encouraging:
plenty of gray clouds and the wind was beginning to stir. Felt like bad weather
was on its way for sure. With rain in the offing, I thought, I hustled over to
the vendors’ building north of the main complex to, naturally, buy astro junk.
There were
two full-line dealers on site in 2000, Chuck Pisa from Wolf Camera and old
buddy Rex of Rex’s Astrostuff. I believe the only thing I wound up getting that
year was from Chuck, an Intes 2-inch visual back for the C8 to go with the 2-inch
Intes star diagonal I already had. Rex had one of them new NexStar 5s on
display, so I got a chance to examine one at length in the daylight and was
downright impressed both by its evident build quality and its light weight.
After that?
Clouds, clouds, and more clouds and, worse, intermittent rain. It was still a
fun day though. Instead of lunch, the AAC did a pancake breakfast Saturday, and
kept it going till 10:30 a.m. so even slug-a-bed me was able to down numerous
pancakes smothered in butter and Log Cabin syrup along with sausage aplenty.
The main
item on the menu, however, was speakers. Beginning with the Association of
Lunar and Planetary Observers’ Walter Haas with a talk that fired Unk up,
“Those Unnumbered Reports of Lunar Changes:
Were They All Blunders?” I’ve never seen anything strange on the Moon—no
weird lights or hazes, anyway—but I found the subject of Transient Lunar
Phenomena as interesting as I had when I was a Moon-crazy kid.
As Mr. Haas
was wrapping up, the bottom fell out: more rain, but mostly high winds. When
the talk was done, we all scurried out to the field to check the scopes. My
little Woodstock had gone over, but save for a scrape on one of the EQ-1’s slow
motion cables he was unhurt. Celeste was on her feet and unfazed.
Unfortunately, Marvin and Betsy’s lovely C5+ had tipped over and had suffered
some damage, though thankfully not catastrophic damage.
After the break,
the talks resumed with Mr. Rükl taking center stage. He was an excellent
speaker, as you’d expect from a planetarium professional, but it was the depth
of his knowledge about the Moon that held us spellbound. I had been
correct: it was worth attending PSSG
2000 just to hear Antonin Rükl.
After the
prize drawing (as usual, Unk didn’t win a pea-picking thing), there was a good
panel discussion on the future of Lunar observing. When that concluded, the
programs for PSSG 2000 were done. All
that was left was observing after dark—if there were any observing after dark.
Leaving the
meeting hall, it was obvious there would indeed be clearing. The front was
pushing through in a hurry. The big blow at 1 p.m. that toppled Marv and Betsy’s
C5 had obviously been its last gasp. For once, the timing was right; my usual luck
would have had the front not passing through till dawn.
It was just 5:30
p.m., so there was still some time to pass before I could go galaxy hunting
again. There was also supper to think about. It felt like those pancakes had
been a long, long time ago. I’d heard quite a few PSSGers were going to caravan
to the local “country” restaurant, Buckner’s, but I had barbeque on my mind.
Didn’t look like any of my PSAS or AAS buds were joining the Buckner’s group
anyways, so I hit the road for the Fresh Air.
I didn’t
know quite what to expect when I pulled up. Fresh Air was, at best, unassuming
inside and out. The exterior looked like it had been untouched for at least
three-quarters of a century, and inside it was order at the counter and eat at long
tables with wooden benches. Appearances can deceive. What I received from the
chirpy little countergirl was some of the best, maybe the best, barbeque and Brunswick stew I’ve had in Georgia, ever, and
that is saying something.
Back on the
field, the sky was completely clear at dark, and by the time the Moon set it was
looking even better than it had the previous evening. Only minus? The front had
left cold weather in its wake—the low thirties on this early April evening. I
persevered, howsomeever, continuing to run galaxies. When Woodstock and Celeste
and me finished Virgo, it was on to Coma, Canes Venatici, and Ursa Major—what a night it was.
I kept going
long enough to do a quick tour of the rising summer wonders, but pulled the
switch a little early on this evening. We were supposed to be gone by 12-noon
Sunday, and there was that drive back down I-65 to endure. At 2 a.m., it was a
quick shot of the Yell and back to the bunkhouse.
I’d had a
good time, muchachos, a real good time. A lot of that was the outstanding facility
and the great AAC folks, but the sky had been good, too. Real good. Better than
it had any right to be, I thought, as I cruised down 65. I resolved to be back
the next year, and I was back for
another round in 2001. Tell y’all the truth, I miss the old Peach State. I’m
sure the new, darker site is cool, but Indian Springs provided just the right balance
of amenities and observing for your tenderfoot Uncle.
Next Time: Destination Moon…
