Looking east a little after midnight: the sky above Datil Well.

This is a mosaic of 4 frames, each 30s, F4.5
10-22mm Canon lens at 10mm
Canon 20D @ iso 800.

November 5-6

The first campground I wanted to see was Water Canyon Campground in the Cibola National Forest.

A side road south from US60 just east of Magdalena leads into the Magdalena Mountains via the Magdalena Fault (they don't waste names out here, a good one gets spread around). The campground is set among mature trees between lava walls. From the campground, a road said to be unsuitable for passenger cars leads ten miles up to the mountaintop site of the Magdalena Ridge Observatory where an optical interferometer is being built by Socorro's NMTech and Cambridge University. In layout, it will resemble the VLA (which NMTech operates), writ small. Got to be worth a visit, but not on this trip.

At Water Canyon, the empty campsite marked "campground hosts" was adjacent the only place where I saw a wide open sky. Even that relatively open field seemed slightly hemmed in the low canyon walls. Beautiful, but it didn't take long to decide that this was not ideal for stargazing. And since this site was still not within the darkest zone defined by the Atlas of Artificial Night Sky Brightness and the next possibility was, I kept going.

Through Magdalena, the VLA, into the Datil Mountains, and south on NM12 (at Datil) to the turnoff to the Datil Well campsite.

Judging by the lack of traffic, by what I had seen at Water Canyon, and by the calendar (it was Monday night), I expected to find an empty or mostly empty campgound. Not so! At Datil Well, at least half the sites were occupied. I circled looking for one with access to open sky, one without RV's for neighbors (I associated generators, lamps, and lanterns with them), one not in the direct line of headlights, and one at some distance from the restrooms which sported largish sconces on their outside walls. I ended up in a site very near the exit of the campground, a little closer to the restrooms than I would have prefered, I but got all my other desires. Behind the site, beyond a few pinion pines, was a mostly open field surrounding what I believe to be an immense juniper (someone set me straight, please). I checked in, set up the telescope, and waited for dark. As the stars came out, I was surprised by a weak cell signal so I tried calling home to enthuse. The signal kept dropping, and I worried that I was causing Amy and my mother some concern -- it was clear that they could not hear me. Did they imagine an emergency? A signal originating in twisted metal at the side of some remote desert highway? (Are we apocalyptic or what?)

Datil Well is one of 15 wells drilled by the US Government at intervals of about ten miles in 1885. They made the cattle trail from Springerville, Arizona, to the railhead at Magdalena, New Mexico, survivable. Datil Well still flows, and its water is superb. I filled a 5 gallon water carrier to use here and beyond.

The photograph above shows a yellow light dome above Albuquerque (97 miles to city center). It was not that prominent in person, and I imagined what slight glow I could see might be from a service station or something similar in Datil. Only after measuring the mosaic did I recognize that it was Albuquerque.

I couldn't decide if the cirrus that laced the evening sky had disipated. Now and again, clouds moved over -- blind spots against the starry sky -- but between them I couldn't decide if the sky was really clear. In any case, in the gaps I could see plenty. After midnight, auras formed around all bright stars in the eyepiece, so I could be pretty sure that things were deteriorating. By then, I'd been up for 23 hours and needed a nap. I climbed into a nest already prepared in the van (Thermarest mattress, North Face Blue Kazoo sleeping bag, pillow made from a stuff sack loaded with not-yet-needed clothes, iPod, headphones...).

By the time Venus and the Moon rose, the sky was clearly not. In fact, it was well on toward definitely overcast. Spica and Mercury were lost in the clouds. I packed up in early twilight and got an early start.

US 60 climbed to the continental divide, crossed it. At Pie Town, I got a good cell signal and phoned home to alleviate any concern my attempts the night before may have caused .

By the numbers: low, 26oF. Darkest sky measurement: 20.72 magnitude per square arcsecond.

 

 

Road to Water Canyon.

 

Open field, Water Canyon.

 

Open road, US 60 approaching the
Plains of San Augustin and the VLA.
Those are the Datil Mountains beyond. This
is a traffic jam. In the full-res photo,
three cars are visible at once!

 

Obligatory photo of VLA antennae.

 

Ominous sign above the foothills of
the Datil Mountains: sundogs do not foretell
crystal clear skies.

 

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Text & Photos by David Cortner
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