Jun 4th - 4 p.m.: A
few months before the 2012 transit of Venus I promised myself that I'd make
every effort to catch this rare alignment. I begin checking various weather
sites and Clear Sky Clock pages, and prospects for viewing the transit appear
iffy at best for the mid-Atlantic region. North and south don't appear
encouraging either, but Kentucky and westward looks like a winning strategy. It
seems as though a road trip is in order!
Jun 5th - 5:00 a.m.:
Plans are to make it somewhere between Lexington KY and Evansville IN, roughly
an eight to ten hour drive. Scope and my newest asset, an ImagingSource video
camera, are packed in high hopes of getting some footage of the historic
transit.
2:00 p.m.: Pulling
into Lexington for lunch the skies look pretty reasonable, lots of puffy
cumulus scattered about. Using my cell I check live camera shots and CSC pages
for Louisville and Evansville (a distinct advantage over the intrepid ToV
astronomers of old trying to navigate to a clear venue). With only
incrementally better skies farther west within a few hours' drive I elect to
throw in my lot with the local astronomy club that is holding a transit viewing
at the University of Kentucky's arboretum.
3:00 p.m.: As I pull
up to the arboretum I immediately spy a couple of scopes set up on the front
lawn. I park and go over to introduce myself to the other amateur with the
scopes, assuming he's the advance guard for the club's ToV event. Turns out
Steve is actually from Newport News in Virginia, and like me had headed west in
search of blue skies. While I set up the scope we chat, trading stories of our
various astronomical experiences and our hopes to add yet another that
afternoon.
4:00 p.m.: WKYT, the
local TV station, shows up to get a 'teaser' about the event at the arboretum.
We protest that neither of us can officially speak for the club - but fortunately
most questions involve the transit which we are able to answer. Two hours to go
- are we over-eager or are the club members very relaxed about getting in place
for the viewing?
4:30 p.m.: The
person in charge at the arboretum pays us a visit. "We are getting a lot
of calls about this, it's generating a lot of interest. Be careful where the
rest of your group sets up because the lawn serves as overflow parking." Our group? We nod and assure her it'll
be fine. Looks like the club has done a solid job getting the word out for the
public to come witness the transit.
5:00 p.m.: The first
few club members arrive, along with a gradual influx of Lexingtonians. We ask
them who is bringing scopes since they did not. The answer is vague. The sky is
also beginning to slip with the cumulus giving way to a more ominous
altostratus blanket. Noooooo!
5:30 p.m.: Now I'm
worried - we have three scopes on the field (Steve's two and mine) and an ever
growing inquisitive crowd. I begin to strategize that if I can manage to carve
out the ingress event for my own video efforts then afterwards I'll jump in and
do outreach. I get the laptop on and begin to try to get the equipment ready.
The Sun spends increasingly longer times obscured by the clouds, but hope
springs eternal.
5:50 p.m.: WKYT is
back with a different crew and they want more footage for their news at 11. My ToV
tee-shirt seems to strike a chord with them, along with the fact that Steve and
I have traveled hundreds of miles to get here. "Why would you do that?" is the first question I
field as the camera rolls. I do my best to channel Carl Sagan, but the whole
time I'm thinking "get this over, I have a transit starting momentarily
and it won't wait!"
6:03 p.m.: The
interview is over but the transit is eminent as the Sun pokes through a break
in the clouds. The laptop has decided to hibernate while I was interviewed and
the rough polar alignment has lost the Sun. Firing up the laptop serves as a
magnet, drawing the crowd - which by now is probably 100+ people - to watch
over my shoulder as I struggle to recover. First contact has passed and I am
still trying to get things in place when I suddenly get it. I'm here for a
reason. I had thought it was to come back with artifacts of a once in a
lifetime event, but actually it's to relax and share it with scores of people
whose curiosity has brought them out to this field. I grab my 7x50 binoculars,
ensure that the filters are secure, and grab a quick look at a fantastic image
- Venus has just cleared the limb at about the 1 o'clock position, a tiny paper
punch hole in the solar disk.
7:45 p.m.: I'm
hoarse and my lips slightly chapped from all the talking, fielding questions
from how the telescope works to whether we'll be back tomorrow night. The crowd
has thinned as we have not seen the Sun since about an hour ago. But we had a
good run, and in those 40 minutes I helped everyone from grandmothers to
preschoolers get a chance to see this rare event. The binoculars worked
incredibly well as people had an instinctive sense of how to use them, and the
Orion filters provided a naturally orange look to the Sun. Steve had also
abandoned most of his efforts and turned to showing people the view through his
H-alpha scope and projection device which he fashioned from an S&T article.
I bid safe journey to my new friend and head back towards Baltimore.
11:20 p.m.: From my
hotel room in eastern Kentucky I stay up to catch the 11 o'clock news on WKYT.
Sure enough, there's a segment on the event at the arboretum with the crazy
folks who traveled hundreds of miles for a glimpse of Venus crossing the Sun.
And there I am, trying to explain it, my 15 seconds of fame. I smile as I turn
off the set and climb into bed. I wanted a memorable ToV and I sure got it. As
it is written, "Man proposes, but God disposes"!
