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Kim and I are on our way back to LA from my mother's wedding in North Platte, Nebraska. The trip has been great so far; along the way, we've visited quite a few national parks (and national monuments and a national memorial). This evening we arrived at our hotel just outside Bryce Canyon National Park in southern Utah (we'll be spending a chunk of tomorrow there), and I talked Kim into going out between sunset and moonrise to look at the stars.
Stargazing on a dark night with a clear sky far from city lights is one of the most awe inspiring experiences that I've had; I don't get the opportunity often at all. Bryce Canyon turns out to be an absolutely top-notch viewing location: it's far from major light sources, and the dry air makes for tremendously clear viewing. The glory of seeing the stars at a place like this is the sheer number of them that you can see: not just the brightest few but countless thousands in every direction. And yet, those rare dark sky opportunities are also the times when I turn out to most wish that I knew more about which stars are which and even about the constellations (which my rational side usually dismisses as insignificant historical artifacts).
I really have to do this more often. And when I have kids, I'll make a point of taking them to see the stars as often as we can manage.
Stargazing on a dark night with a clear sky far from city lights is one of the most awe inspiring experiences that I've had; I don't get the opportunity often at all. Bryce Canyon turns out to be an absolutely top-notch viewing location: it's far from major light sources, and the dry air makes for tremendously clear viewing. The glory of seeing the stars at a place like this is the sheer number of them that you can see: not just the brightest few but countless thousands in every direction. And yet, those rare dark sky opportunities are also the times when I turn out to most wish that I knew more about which stars are which and even about the constellations (which my rational side usually dismisses as insignificant historical artifacts).
I really have to do this more often. And when I have kids, I'll make a point of taking them to see the stars as often as we can manage.
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Same sorta thing with a blood red proton aurora - nothing like the usual high energy electron curtains/coronas. My first glimpse of one was just a few years ago - thought it was sodium vapor lights bouncing off some clouds, but it was just the wrong color, and then realization...
Same sorta thing with big, open, empty 'virgin' landscapes. They're very lonely and invigorating feeling. Makes ya feel alive. Toss in a village, and it makes our human endeavors seem so fleeting.
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