Seeing through clouds? Nope. But clouds don’t stop crowds.

I wrote earlier about seeing through clouds with the video camera. Perhaps that post created some misimpressions. Last night I found myself part of a small group trying of ASSNE members to share a slice of the universe with about 75 parents and children at an elementary school in neighboring Dartmouth, even though it was totally overcast and showed just about zero hope of clearing. Brian Tjersland led the effort.

Now I’m not saying these parents and children had read my post. I’m sure not one of them had. But more than one of them really did think that telescopes can see through clouds and at least one was quite perplexed as she questioned me on the subject. While she thought that perhaps the telescopes we had set up could not see through clouds, surely larger, professional telescopes can. Well why not? They can do some pretty miraculous things. But as I explained, they go to great pains to locate them in isolated places away from clouds and lights and as much of our disturbed atmosphere as they can. That, of course, is why the Hubble is in orbit and performs so wonderfully, Oh for those pristine skies of space! But then, air is handy for breathing ;-)

My experience of seeing through clouds with the video camera the other night doesn’t mean I could see well enough to reveal anything worthwhile. What it does mean is this: I have to change my definition of marginal conditions. I will not be as demanding of pristine skies for my own viewing –and especially for showing astronomical sites to the general public – as I have been in the past. The video – and I think any telescope – can do better under hazy skies than I had believed. Amateur astronomers may turn their backs on less than good conditions, but if you haven’t observed much, any glimpse of our incredible universe can be a revelation worth the price of admission.

But yesterday we were faced once again with the vagaries of New England weather. I was skep[tical from the start. In fact, I was deeply skeptical the night before – but I didn’t express my views too strongly because I knew that they were being influenced by the fact that I had a miserable head cold and under the weight of it was no longer enthusiastic enthusiastic about showing anyone anything. We emailed back and forth on the weather conditions for the next 12 hours. A decision had to be made around noon and thankfully, it was not my decision to make.

The Clear Sky Clock – last updated at about 2 am in the morning – did not hold out any hope and a newer forecast would not arrive until early afternoon. Other forecast said 50-60 percent clouds for the time we would be observing. (That would have been nice by comparison and given us a chance to show off the moon and Saturn, for sure. We had, instead, 100 percent clouds. Well, maybe 99.8 percent ;-)

As the day wore on it was pointed out that there was a large “hole” in the clouds over the Great Lakes and it was moving our way. Hope springs eternal! I was still skeptical, but kept quiet. Hey –I wasn’t going to be the guy to say “do not observe,” and then have it turn out clear as a bell at the appointed hour! But my problem with this optimistic theory was simply this:

• While our weather does move generally from west to east.

• And while an approaching cold front – with clear area behind it – does generally move from west to east and can be counted on to bring us clear skies.

  
  

• A hole in the clouds during a typically turbulent weather period does no such thing. Even if that hole is the size of New York. Weather systems are dynamic and can change right over your heads.
  

And why should that surprise us? I learned it to my serious fear one day about 30 years ago when Bren and I were sailing the West Wight Potter on the Westport River. At the time thunderstorms scared the hell out of me – especially when I was in a small boat with a tall aluminum mast. Out on the water we would have to look like a terrific target for any lightning bolt. But at the time I also firmly believed – in fact, I thought I was quite weatherwise to do so – that any thunderstorm that might threaten me would first show itself on my western horizon and I would be able to outrun it and get to shore and safety.

Wrong. Conditions were ripe for a thunderstorm that day and I knew it, but none developed on the western horizon. They developed, instead, directly over our heads. And it was a dooser! I dropped the sail, started the outboard motor, and ran the little Potter up on a small island. Bren and I jumped out and we huddled in comparative safety on shore. The Potter was not struck by lightning. We got drenched. And some folks at a Horseneck Beach campground a couple miles south were hit as they tried to erect a tent. Luckily no one was killed.

Under such circumstances – a weather system moving across you – it’s kind of fun and instructive to watch the weather satellite loop. When I did this yesterday about 4 pm I didn’t see a hole approach us. I saw several holes develop and close spontaneously. Beautiful blossoms of clearness living momentarily, then closing up again. In fact, I packed up my car under skies that were mostly cloudy, but gave me a glimpse of the moon. And just before I drove off, I could see on the satellite and evolving hole approaching us – not from the west, but from the east.

But it never got here. In fact, as I waited in the twilight with Brian it got worse. But there were already people around and so he set up his 12-inch telescope, and I set up my eight inch one near it on a school baseball diamond. And in the twilight, made darker by an ominous overcast, people showed up and started milling around.

I set up my video player next to the telescope and put in a disc of pictures of astronomical objects I had recorded through the scope. This, at least gave me something to talk about and some of the people wandered by and seemed genuinely interested. Then two other folks arrived – Pete Petersen and Bob Magnuson - club stalwarts. They didn’t set up their scopes, but one of them, Bob Magnuson, had brought a portable solar system model and soon he had a crowd of kids – with adults hanging around the fringes - marching across the soggy athletic field ( it had rained the night before) and planting little flags at the appropriate places marking the planets.

It worked like a charm.. Bob was the pied piper of our little universe and the kids were having a ball and learning something about size and distance in space. Unfortunately there are only nine planets – or eight – or whatever – astronomers are still arguing over the “official” number. But eight or nine, it’s not enough to keep kids occupied forever and eventually, they were back milling around the scopes as it got darker with no relief from the clouds in sight.

Again, the video seemed to keep some people occupied, but the small screen can only be seen by a half a dozen folks at a time, tops, so it hardly could satisfy the crowd that was there. Answering questions about the scopes helped, as well. And I learned that next time I’ll extend the legs of the tripod so the scope is out of the reach of curious kids. I can not watch the video and explain to folks what they are seeing and at the same time protect my telescope lens from curious, oily hands – especially when the kids discovered they could see themselves in the mirror inside the tube. And eventually, there was a pitifully small opportunity to glimpse the moon a few times through very brief openings in the clouds. Even though I had my back to it while explaining what was on the video screen, to could monitor these opportunities by the surguing enthusiasm, then disappointyment of the crowd as the clouds teased us a bit. By 8 pm, however, the crowd was dwindling – these were little kids, 7-10 years old – and in another 15 minutes I was packed up and off for home.

By 11 I was ready for bed, but it was wonderfully clear – as the Clear Sky Clock, which updated itself about 1 pm had predicted it would be at that time – and so I went out and enjoyed 45 minutes of testing a new, cheap zoom eyepice against a not-so-cheap one. I’ll post about that experience separately.

Bottom line – no one lives long enough to really understand weather – especially New England weather. But one thing that’s worth remembering is that it is a chaotic system, in the scientific definition of chaos, and it has to change somewhere. That change is not always predictable by looking to the west, Clouds develop somewhere and if you want to observe – especially if you have a bunch of parents and kids around who have come out to see the universe – there’s a pretty good chance a change for the worse will develop right over your head.