From: "Les Coleman" <les11@cox.net>
Reply-To: snegazers@brainiac.com
To: "SNE Gazers" <snegazers@brainiac.com>
Subject: (SNES) Sick transit gloria
Date: Thu, 10 Jun 2004 08:46:25 -0400
Hi folks,
Sic transit gloria - which roughly translated amounts to "I
shoulda known." In any case, here is my account of the Venus
Transit from southern Rhode Island. Last Friday at FDO, Joe,
Ernie and I were prognosticating about the Venus Transit this
morning. I said that I suspected that the skies would be
perfectly clear except a fog bank in the east and north east.
At 4:30 I rolled out of bed after my wife shook me and said some
derogatory about people who set alarms for wee hours of the
morning and are too deaf to hear them going off. I packed up my
tripod, Questar, solar filters and eyepieces and headed off to
my chosen spot - Watch Hill Lighthouse Point. This spot has
unobstructed views of the 270 degrees from north-west through
south all the way to north-east. Even the north has only a
bluff about a third of a mile back from the point to worry
about.
When I arrived my prognostication came true. To the west, I
could clearly see Stonington Point (Connecticut) and Fisher's
Island (New York) but Wamoloam Point (Rhode Island) was under
the predicted fog bank. Oh well, so I wouldn't see the Sun rise
with Venus already moving across its face. I'll just wait until
it is high enough to get a good view. Thumb twiddle....
Hmmmmm.... Yawn.... Grunt. (... you get the point).
Some six or seven degrees above the horizon (or what would have
been the horizon if it wasn't a fog bank) the sky was clear
enough to see golds and pinks getting brighter. It grew ever
more intense until lo and behold I could see the upper half of
the Sun. Desperation grew as I judged that the lower half
containing Venus would somehow stay hidden while all else was
bathed in sunlight. Across the water to Wamoloam, the Sun
danced through holes in the clouds that WERE NOT lined up with
me. Should I pack up and make a dash for Wamoloam? "NO!" says
I. "I HAVE TOO MUCH PRIDE. IN ANY CASE AS SOON AS I GET THERE,
IT WILL BE WATCH HILL IN THE CLEAR." Thumb twiddle....
Hmmmmm.... Yawn.... Grunt. ( ... again, you get the point)
Finally around 5:48 (more than a half hour after dawn) the
clouds relented and I got a clear view obscured only by wisps.
Venus (58 arcseconds across) was a perfect disk against the much
larger Sun (1891 arcseconds across). Since mighty Jupiter
rarely exceeds 49 arcseconds across even at its closest
approaches, Venus was big! I looked for the sunspot group I had
seen yesterday but it was not visible. Across the sky, the
clouds disapated one by one. Joy! Rapture! (you get the
point).
I experimented with my eyepieces. I have a series which are
well suited to planetary work. First of all I have an 6-8 power
finder view (through the main eyepiece). I have a 45, 54, 65,
81 and 86 power set of eyepieces (as well as nearly useless
higher powers). After experimentation I decided that the 65 and
86 powers which requires a Barlow were mediocre. The 45 power
was too small. The 54 was very crisp and decently large but the
81 was not only almost as crisp but nicely larger. 81 power it
was then.
Now watching Venus cross the Sun is interesting but very slow.
So you begin to look at other things like the limb of the Sun.
It was definitely limb darkened at least 15 arcseconds in.
Venus was generally a perfect circle but occasionally its image
shuddered as pockets of warming air swept across it. Time
marched on and Venus slowly approached the limb of the Sun. I
was very excitred, hoping to see the imfamous black drop which
caused Captain Cook so much grief in his ill fated attempt to
see a Venus Transit from Tahiti. At least my view wasn't
crucial to determing the size of the Solar System so it didn't
matter if I kept accurate times to the second.
Closer and closer Venus came to the edge. I was going to see
the black drop! I would carefully judge the exit of Venus -
first contact, Venus center at the edge and finally last
contact. I was going to .... Huh? Whats this? Why can't I
see anything? Have I flipped one of the Questar's multitudenous
levers to an incorrect setting? Nope - everything was fine at
the scope but overhead a substantial cloud was between me and
the Sun.
Wamoloam Point was in sunlight. Fisher's Island was in sunlight
and of course Stonington Point was in sunlight. Only Watch Hill
seem fated to be shaded at the moment of Venus' exit. Venus had
reached to about 10 arcseconds from the limb when the cloud
swept across the field of view. It would have only been a
couple of minutes to first contact and the black drop. Hurry!
Get out of the way! Should I pack up and make a dash for
Wamoloam or Stonington? No - both were at least 10 minutes away
plus packing and unpacking time. Sob! Slobber! Snivel!
Whine! Moan (you get the point)!
I packed up and headed home to cut the grass. Could I get some
shade at least so that I wouldn't overheat as I mowed. Of
course not! The sky was perfectly clear once again. I now know
why Gloria was sick during the Transit.
Les Coleman
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