I always had a mild interest in astronomy, and it became a strong interest in the 1990s, triggered by a homework assignment given to my ten-year-old son to go out at night and identify some constellations. I took him away from the city lights to a park where we could see the stars emerge from twilight. On that beautiful fall evening, we found the constellations he was looking for, and we also saw Jupiter, the brightest object in the sky. Through binoculars, we were surprised that we could see its moons. This caused me to wonder what else I might be able to see if I were to look a little closer.
I started this blog when I retired in 2019, just before COVID. It was an activity that occupied me during those months of quarantine and allowed me to share my interests and projects. I was, and still am, ignorant of blogging technology. Yes, I have, in my career, written code for the world of web pages and browser-based applications, but every time I did so, I wondered, “How could this ever work?” It struck me as a house of cards, with fragile links and unreliable and inconsistent page renderings.
When I was studying physics in college, one of the early subjects was Einstein’s special relativity theory. The subject is called “relativity” because it explains the physics of objects moving relative to each other. It is “special” because it only applies to uniform relative motion, not motion induced by gravity, which is covered by “general” relativity, which Einstein described a decade later.
Special relativity replaced Galileo’s and Isaac Newton’s earlier theories, which were superb at explaining falling objects and orbiting planets, but had run into trouble explaining the properties of fast-moving electrons and light.
It is an early subject in the physics curriculum because as students, we were just learning the techniques of calculus and linear algebra; techniques that are helpful, but not required to understand special relativity. Most people are familiar with special relativity, and even if they don’t understand the details, they have heard “E=mc2”, one of the consequences of it. They may also have heard about time dilation, the effect of a moving clock slowing down relative to a stationary one.
The moon sets behind an outdoor sculpture while auroras light the sky at Franconia Sculpture Park.
Even if light pollution were not an issue, we’d rarely see the northern lights because our latitude in Minneapolis is outside the normal auroral oval. But last week, Earth experienced a strong geomagnetic storm and we were suddenly in the middle of it! Here was a chance to see aurora without traveling to Alaska or Manitoba! And it was the perfect opportunity to photograph them with my wide-angle lenses, one of which I call my “Milky Way/aurora lens”, a 2-1/2-pound monster for just this purpose! But we needed to get away from the city lights.
There is a sculpture park, Franconia, that Poldi and I have enjoyed and contributed to for many years, and it was less than an hour from home. We arrived before sunset and sought permission to take photos, even after the normal park closing time. As I was scouting for locations and setting up tripods, a trickle of other visitors arrived with the same purpose: to see the predicted northern lights. As twilight faded, the aurora tourists expanded to dozens of vehicles, all of which had headlights that swept across the sculpture park grounds, interfering with my carefully selected compositions.
I have learned not to react to unexpected lighting situations. Oftentimes, they make for interesting photographic results. One of my favorite examples is when I was shooting reflections on a calm alpine lake and a group of partiers arrived and went skinnydipping, breaking up the smooth lake surface. Rather than close the shutter and move on, I kept it open for the duration of my planned exposure. It created a wonderful blend of reflected and scattered light!
When I was first learning astrophotography, I had the bad luck of beginner’s luck. I got an early good result, a picture of the Andromeda Galaxy, and then spent years discovering all the things that can go wrong with this technical hobby.
The equipment has improved immensely since those days of making long duration, manually guided exposures onto film, but the opportunities for fatal mistakes has not seemed to diminish, and the challenges of solar imaging are no less demanding than those of deep sky imaging– just different.
So I knew that I needed to practice my plan to photograph the solar eclipse. There were too many things that all needed to go right, and too many opportunities to make a mistake.
Our group consumes coffee! Five French presses were hard pressed to keep up.
Eclipse Monday arrived and we proceeded as planned. Delicious French-pressed coffee and cinnamon rolls greeted our eclipse party guests, but the sky was covered in intermittent clouds, a mix of high and low layers, only occasionally offering a clear sunny view.
This did not seem to affect the group. They proceeded to continue their exploration of the campground and vicinity, logging birdcalls and trekking new hiking trails.
By the time the eclipse started, a little past noon, we all convened at our observing site. Cabin H, it turns out, is the only cabin at Zuber’s that had a full view of Old Baldy, and it provided us with a perfect open area in front to view the eclipsed sun!
I had completed the setup of my cameras (more on this later). In principle, they were automated enough that I could relax and enjoy the show with my friends. I looked around and saw that our full group of black t-shirted eclipse observers had positioned their camp chairs to claim their personal view of the sky, making guesses about the sun’s location as it occasionally peeked through the clouds. Some had binoculars, properly filtered of course, and their punched name cards were near at hand.
Over on top of Old Baldy we could see the silhouettes of many people who had climbed it– to get a closer look, I guess. When they started striking odd poses and making wild gestures, I realized this was the gathering spot for the Wiccans and Druids. And sure enough, whenever the clouds presented an opening that showed a partially eclipsed sun, they could be heard whooping and hollering at it!
At Zuber’s River Camp, with Old Baldy in the background.
The terms of the campground reservation required a three-day stay. This was fine with us; it was a beautiful location, and we would be entirely avoiding the post-eclipse traffic jams. So Saturday and Sunday and even Monday morning—eclipse day– were open to enjoy the scenery at our place in Texas Hill Country.
Our compound within the camp comprised “Cabin H” with power and plumbing, and three shelters (“7” “8”, and “9”), which were basically screened-in porches with an electrical outlet. The shelters were surrounded by outdoor space to pitch a tent or park a camper.
Our fellow eclipse partiers gradually joined us on Saturday and Sunday. They set up their camping arrangements (tents, campers, shelters, or cabin facilities) and then went exploring.
Our plans came together well. We were worried about bringing all that we needed to host a group of 17 and worried it would all fit in our vehicle. But then, as it seemed we were ready to go a full day ahead of time, we worried that we must be forgetting something. I never have my stuff together by the scheduled departure! What was I missing? Well, we decided to leave as planned anyway– we’d figure it out later if we needed to. But isn’t that how all trips start? It was just the lack of rushed panic at the end of packing that was missing.
My friend Rich traveled to Texas as a passenger in a caravan that included more friends, John and Karen, and friends of friends Jennelle and Mike. John is a professor emeritus of environmental engineering, but I think if he wasn’t, he’d be a long-haul trucker. He insisted on driving the full distance, no sharing the wheel with other potential driving shifts. Stopping for gas was a necessary interruption, but stopping for a meal was lost time entirely– they could eat sandwiches on the road. They made the trip from Minneapolis to Zuber’s in two days. I’m glad to be in a different caravan.
Rich arrives at Zuber’s with his descriptively labeled beer, just for the occasion.Continue reading →
Eclipse photography dress rehearsal in my back yard.
While Poldi was preparing food-for-the-masses, I was preparing other things. The big attraction the eclipse held for me was its rare opportunity to capture unique photos of the sun.
In 2017 I had participated in “The Modern Eddington Experiment“, trying to photograph the nearby stars to see if they were deflected by the sun’s gravity as Einstein predicted. My results were inconclusive, but I really enjoyed the challenge of getting the pictures and analyzing the results afterward.
This year I registered to contribute to the Eclipse Mega Movie, a less complex project but one that matched my desire to capture the corona, which as we near the peak of the solar cycle should be even larger than it was in 2017.
To do this, I needed to precisely control the camera during totality. As often occurs with our rapidly evolving technology, much has changed in the seven years since 2017. I had a new camera and a new computer, several hardware and software versions later than my previous eclipse session. The software application I had used before had become obsolete, no longer able to run on the new laptop and operating system. The author had not migrated it to the latest platform.
Fortunately, a new program had been created that could fill its role– it had fewer features but was entirely adequate for what I wanted to do. I was pleased to discover it.
I remembered the excitement at the 2017 eclipse site, of various groups gathered in the campground, enjoying the spirit around the campfires. One of the groups was from an astronomy club, and they had made special eclipse event t-shirts for their members to wear with pride and distinction. When I expressed how impressed I was with the design, the group leader offered to sell me one. I took him up on it and have worn it frequently since.
Seeing an opportunity to do something similar for our group, I put together a design. It was much simpler than the one I admired in 2017, but it featured one of my photos from that eclipse. It documented the time and place of our eclipse party, and it had a banner declaring “Total Solar Eclipse!”. Rather than making it big and bold, I realized that I could use the dot-matrix font of the name projection cards, which tied in the pinhole projection activity nicely. I further realized that I could represent the full progression of the eclipse by evolving the dots into thin crescents, and then back to full disks. I was eventually satisfied with this design and stopped tweaking it.
Now I needed to find some way to get it printed onto shirts. I hadn’t ever done a project like this, but with all the zillions of t-shirts one encounters, I figured there must be some businesses that specialize in it. My concern was that my small print run would not be of interest to them—the setup expense would be too high and the margins too small.
