Concordia Base Log
By: Adrianos Golemis, ESA research MD
Time: L+193 (May 2014)
Temperature: -73 ˚C
Week: 27
Sunlight: Dusk only
Morale: Good
Morale: Good
Log Entry #13 – Of
Stars and Heavens
(Astronomy, Part Two)
(Astronomy, Part Two)
May,
the start of the long polar night. Three and a half months without viewing the
face of the sun, so revered through human history and mythology, began a week
ago. As we keep in contact with friends and relatives in Europe it is strange
to picture them wearing shorts and T-shirts. A waxing summer for them. A dark
winter for us. But the impending darkness is not necessarily an enemy. As the
light wanes, more and more of the jewels of the skies are revealed before our
eyes.
On another
stargazing exodus from our base, I was truly elated when my sight fell on the
Magellanic Clouds for the first time, two deep sky objects that are in fact
satellite-galaxies of our own Milky Way. I have been longing for this spectacle
during my first trip to the southern hemisphere, but all five nights that I
spent away from the ominous city lights were cloudy ones. These two dwarf
galaxies took their name from the great explorer Magellan himself, as it was
his accompanying astronomer who made this knowledge widespread in Europe –
although it had been the Persian scientist Al-Sufi who allegedly first mentioned
them in text.
We feasted our
naked eyes on this sight before quickly covering up every inch of our skin with
our masks again. Then, our own Galaxy came on the stage to steal the show.
Never have I seen before such a clear natural image of the Milky Way on any
night. It is said that the Milky Way is thus named because it originated in the
milk spilled from the breast of Hera, as she awoke from her sleep, surprised to
find new-born Hercules feeding on her (and this was the secret plan of Zeus to
make his son immortal). This trace back to ancient mythology made me realize
that we were viewing the skies as our ancestors did millennia ago: unscathed by
light pollution and artificial illumination. This was the great gift of
Antarctica to our senses, to compensate for the cold.
African tribes
of yore had pictured the Milky Way as the backbone of the sky, an interesting
concept if we consider that our Galaxy appears as a line in the very centre of
the sky in equatorial latitudes.
Picture #55: The Milky Way above Concordia
Station, never alone in the company of the Magellanic Clouds
In the Northern
Hemisphere we look inwards towards the centre of our Galaxy in the summer and
outwards towards the void that loops between members of our Local Group in the
winter. In the Southern Hemisphere, seasons are opposite.
There are days
(so to speak, as we now live in 24-hour darkness) when the lords of the skies
are generous with us, revealing all their hidden treasures of eternity to the
peeking eyes of us mortal observers. And then again there are moments when they
shut their realm away. This was almost the case with two eclipses in April
2014. On the 15th day of that month a lunar eclipse took place, but
we managed to photograph it only marginally from the interior of the base, as
the horizon was hazy and obscured the event (Picture #56). Not an excellent spectacle
I’m afraid, but you can perhaps depict the shadow of our Earth sliding away
gently atop the surface of our closest world, one that we have come to simply
call “The Moon”.
Then a partial
solar eclipse occurred two weeks later (and that is, two exact weeks, because a
lunar eclipse can only occur on a full Moon and a solar eclipse only on a new
Moon!). On the 29th of April 2014 we organized a small expedition to
grasp what images we can from a phenomenon that could be christened “no man’s
eclipse”: Total coverage of the solar disc by the Moon occurred only in a
location in Antarctica where no manned base existed. No human would witness
this event with bare eyes. We should all be content with the partial phase. But
again, our plans were thwarted. A foggy horizon and low temperatures, combined
with limitations because of our location with respect to the eclipse’s ground
track left us with naught but a few wide-angle photos made by our friend (and
quite accomplished photographer) Paride. The rest of us did not manage to
capture a single image due to equipment failure, even though this time we had
commandeered the Station’s auxiliary telescope and built a larger solar filter
for the event.
Pictures #56 and #57: The Moon and the Sun play
hide-and-seek with our planet
[Credits: Paride Legovini]
[Credits: Paride Legovini]
Now the greatest
spectacle that every newcomer to Antarctica anticipates is to see the Aurora
Australis. Unfortunately this is a phenomenon only visible near the South
Magnetic Pole – SMP – (and not the
geographic one). The SMP has been moving constantly northwards in the last 500
years, in fact currently it lies off the coast of Antarctica, not even on the
continent itself, and thus some ~1200 km from our location. This means that
coastal stations like Dumont D’ Urville enjoy magnificent nights, bathed in the
green and purple of the Southern Lights frequently, but in our case we can only
hope for a few (2 to 10) viewings during an entire year here. Still, I expect
that even one would be enough to stir feelings of fulfilment in us.
There are yet
other unique spectacles to behold in the crystal skies of Antarctica. I truly
hope that as the night waxes and the light wanes we will be able to spot the
zodiacal light on the anti-solar point on some occasions. The gegenschein is a
similar phenomenon, both of them faint light radiation normally invisible from
metropolitan areas or even from rural countryside.
During the long
summer day we had the chance to observe a phenomenon known as the Phantom Sun or
Sun Dogs (Picture #58), two small rainbow-like formations that escort our star
during sunset or sunrise, a manifestation of light as it dances among the snow
crystals before being finally captured by the rhodopsin in our eyes. With a
little imagination you can picture a whole halo surrounding the sun as well.
But the sun is
now long gone, leaving us in a shroud of an ever increasing obscurity. Yet darkness
is not always an enemy. It can be welcome to thoughts. After all, darkness is
just an unknown. As there are so many unknowns hidden in the jewels of the sky,
awaiting our inherent curiosity to awaken their marvels, so the night with its
darkness are inviting to exploration. I am confident that the upcoming 3-month
long nighttime will thus be another stimulating experience, a healthy challenge
rather than a gaping chasm in our psychology and an excuse for low performance.
Sometimes I
think that there is more to be discovered in the night than can be grasped
during a clear day, when the infinite sunlight surrounds us, but also renders
us blind to the small, colourful minute details of the skies.
Picture #58: The Phantom Suns, one on each
side. This picture was announced
Earth Science Picture of the Day on July 3, 2014, at epod.usra.edu/blog/ .
Earth Science Picture of the Day on July 3, 2014, at epod.usra.edu/blog/ .
And I remember –
it is in the night that we can see the stars. Those that comprise our close
neighbourhood, like Proxima and Rigil Centauri, and those that stand at an
unimaginably gigantic distance away. And we can ponder in silence about the
potential worlds that orbit these little glow worms of the sky, some of which
might even host life not so different than our own.
In a way, the
sun during the day directs our attention to ourselves, within, upon the Earthly
things and pragmatic needs of the day. The tune of the night can instead be
called a song of extraversion and visions. A focus on what is still to be
known, grasped, fathomed, analysed, explored. A dream of what is yet to come
and a reminder of the efforts needed. A
sea of tranquillity and yet a sparkle of challenge to reach higher. Less
accuracy maybe, but also less discrimination. A fertile ground for coming together
in union in awe of the unknown, exploring further, touching the limits.
The skies are calling… Yearning to be explored by our species.
And to the little crew of Concordia Station, like to the hunters of
yore, darkness signals the time for stargazing. It is obvious to us that with
the darkness, the hunting season is come.
The Time for Star Chasers has arrived in Antarctica.
With this parting song, I wish you all Good Night.
҉
Picture #59: Sunset – Earth, Sky, Light,
Shadow, all in perfect equilibrium.
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