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"Don’t
you know that you are a shooting star? And all the world will love you just as
long, as long as you are." (from "Shooting Star", lyrics
copyright 1974 by Bad Company)
For
those who braved sleepiness, the cold, or long drives to look up at the stars
during the predawn hours of November 18, 2001, the things seen in the sky that
morning will forever be etched in our minds. There were indeed many shooting
stars to love that morning. In fact, most of us saw more meteors during that
brief time than we had ever seen. For me, it went beyond seeing the flashes of
light pierce the starry veil at over 100,000 miles per hour. It became an
experience that was BETTER than what I had imagined.
My story of the 2001 Leonids began long before that glorious night. I cannot
recall when I found out about the possibility of a strong outburst of meteors
over North America in mid- November of that year. But I DO know that when I did
find out, I vowed to view it.
But what about other people? I didn’t have to "twist the arms" of my
friends who were into astronomy already. When I told them about my plans to
travel to a dark location to witness a possibly very strong meteor shower, they
jumped at the chance. I wanted to spread the word beyond the astronomical
community. I told some people how important this meteor show was to me. Now, I
know that it takes a certain type of mindset to enjoy seeing the faint smudge of
a galaxy or subtle surface features on a planet’s disk (and I thank God that I
have that type of mind; and I wish more people would have it, too). So when I
tell people in my life that don’t share my interest in astronomy about an
event in the sky, I inform them about only the most spectacular ones. I’m
tired of trying to describe spectacular astronomical events that I have
witnessed to other people. I want them to see the sky for themselves. And this
was one of them. I WANTED people to see this.
So the word was spread. I told as many people in my life as I could. My family
members. My friends. Some of my customers. (I work in a camera store.) And I
told THEM to spread the word for me. I even invited some of my friends and
family members to come with me.
But what would convince them to watch it? And what would convince a few of them
to come with me? Besides, this event was predicted to happen in the few hours
just before dawn! Who in their right mind would want to be up at such a time?
One thing that I hoped would help me out: the event would occur on a Saturday
night/ Sunday morning. Could the timing have been any better?
Unfortunately, the event was not a guarantee. Certainly I wished for a grand
display of several hundred to several thousand meteors per hour, just like the
meteor scientists had predicted. In fact, eventually there were four
predictions. Some predicted a meteor "storm" (over 1,000 meteors per
hour); others predicted just a strong flurry. But that’s what they were:
predictions. And then there was that thought in the back of our minds-- what if
it doesn’t happen at all? Sure, the predictions had met with relative success
in recent years, but the sky has provided surprises before-- both good and bad.
If a meteor storm materialized, great! We would witness history. What if that
didn’t occur, and only a trickle of meteors flew above our heads? I knew that
we would go to a dark sky to see the show (and I tried to convince others who
couldn’t come with me to go to dark skies as well), so we could
"console" ourselves by looking at the myriad bright stars that the
early winter sky has to offer. Who does not like to sit under a sky full of
stars and have a conversation with good friends?
Eventually, the plans were made. I convinced a few of my friends to travel with
me. I, along with several others, would travel to Fort McKavett State Park in
West-Central Texas. This abandoned fort, turned into a State Park by the Texas
Parks and Wildlife Commission, had all the ingredients for a spectacular place
to watch the celestial show: low horizons and VERY dark skies. We would drive
there, and meet up with some other astronomers from the Houston area-- and I’m
sure, from other areas of the state. Some of my friends could not attend, but
they said that they would try to watch it from near their home. (I hoped, at
least, that my cries of "Get away from city lights!!!" were heard.)
The months and weeks went by as we anticipated the show. As the time for the
event grew closer, it was so hard to get the Leonids off my mind! I spent
numerous hours on the Internet, looking at the latest predictions. I beamed with
excitement as I thought about the possibility of seeing countless meteors-- and
sharing it with a group of friends! I’m sure I wasn’t alone in these
feelings. Astronomers get EXTREMELY anxious when a major event approaches. We
can’t talk or think about anything else!
But there was one thing that could keep us away from seeing this event: the
weather. How many times have astronomers worried that clouds would ruin a
celestial event? This event was even more important. I had told so many people
about it. So you can imagine my stress level, when, a few days before the peak
night of the Leonids, a low pressure system parked itself right over southern
New Mexico, spreading clouds over most of that state and all of Texas. This
happened after a week or so of beautiful blue skies and very few clouds. Of
course. Mother Nature, beautiful as she is, loves to taunt the astronomer.
So what were we to do? Skies to the east were clear, but we still had several
days to go. If the system moved eastward, like most of them do, then areas to
the east would be clouded out. If that happened, we would go west as originally
planned. If the system stalled out (like it looked like it was doing) then areas
to the east of us would remain in the clear, and that’s the direction we would
go. So for several hours each day, in the days preceding the event, I sat at the
computer, looking at detailed weather websites. Satellite loops. Cloud
forecasts. I spent time on the phone, talking to my friends, trying to decide
which direction to head. Unfortunately, this weather system was giving us all
kinds of problems. Many of the computer models said to head east-- but some of
them said that heading west would still be a good bet. This was agony! I
didn’t want this event to be clouded out!
Continue -->
See also Christie Ponder's
Leonid account and photographs of 2001
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