Chairman’s Chat
March 2004
Texas Night Skies

How strange the night skies appear from N30°40' W97°59'.  Starting with the Moon - well, it's just simply the wrong way round.  It's almost disconcerting to see the once-familiar slanted man in the moon now staring bolt-upright at me. 

At first I feel lost and disorientated in the myriad of unfamiliar northern constellations.  Moving southwards, I look for familiar territory. Southern Cross?  No such luck at this northern latitude.  I immediately long for my old friends: alpha and beta Centauri.  There is faithful old Orion.  But, something is wrong.  Orion is in an upside down orientation.  No, it’s not.  It’s actually the right way up - the way the ancient Greeks saw the hunter.  It’s orientated correctly, standing tall and proud, head and shoulders upright and belt and sword at the midriff.

I slowly let my gaze drift northwards to another familiar constellation - Auriga.  Yet it seems as though the Charioteer has put on a little weight.  At this angle and orientation, he appears more squat and chubby.  Leo is majestic in its correct orientation.  The king of the jungle sits serenely upright and surveys his kingdom, gazing intently at a rather chubby-looking set of twins - Gemini.

And there it is.  The great bear, Ursa Major.  What a stunning constellation when viewed in its entirety.  I had seen part of the big dipper from Magda Steicher’s farm near Aldays, but never the constellation in its entirety.  The magnitude 1 and 2 stars forming the soup ladle asterism are magnificent. 

The fainter stars forming the little bear, Ursa Minor, are more of a challenge.  I felt like I was staring at one of those computer generated 3D images, waiting for the asterism to suddenly appear from the murky haze of the Austin, Texas city lights.  And there it is.  Polaris! Like walking in snow for the fist time.  So this is the cause of all our Southern Hemispherites’ envy.  Alpha Ursa Minoris is right on the tip of the handle of this mini version of the big dipper.  I’m surprised to see it fainter than I expected.  But then again, I had built up a false expectation of a star so frequently referenced in all astronomical guides for Northern Hemisphere telescope users.

Draco is a real challenge.  After many frustrating minutes of glancing back and forth from Cambridge Star Atlas to the night skies, the dragon’s head gradually began to materialise from the background stars and I followed his long lithe form as it wrapped itself around the vicinity of the north celestial pole.

Setting in the west, the great W of Cassiopeia is distinctive and bright.  I search the surrounds to see if I can spell the word WELCOME - no such luck.  The big W will have to do for now.

Ok, now for Camelopardalis.  Where is Camelopardalis?  Cambridge tells me to look somewhere between Cassiopeia and Ursa Major. North of Auriga ... where is Camelopardalis?  My eyes are watering from the strain and my hands are completely numb in the -2?C air temperature.  Camelopardalis remains elusive for now - I need warmth.

My kingdom for my telescope right now.

Dave Gordon
Liberty Hill, Texas
N30°40'  W97°59'