Mistakes Were Made

Perhaps you were wondering how my quest for getting galaxy photos was going. If you're looking for the short version, knowing me, read the title.

If you're ready for the story, keep going.

I started a while back. It involved getting the only camera which could possibly do the job "out of moth balls." So to speak, as no mothballs were ever encountered. I didn't dust off the cobwebs either - same reason. What I did do was recharge long dormant batteries. Then bought new ones. I researched online how to do the job technically. Finally, trial runs at home, sans night skies. After all, when Phoenix night skies show maybe 14 stars on a good night....

Since the fancy camera had been used very little, and only in point-and-shoot modes, I was badly in need of a quick education in my camera functions. After my online research I had written down in the camera manual in the manual settings section what my settings needed to be for optimum results. But how to translate words to settings? Back up: how to translate words period? Back to "parts of your camera."

I ordered a time release cable. From China, it turned out. Digital, it turned out. With size 3 font instructions, so helpful for geezer eyes. Battery free, of course. After inserting batteries and trying to make out how to set this dang thing for timed shutter releases, I made a conscious decision to leave it home. Then changed my mind ; maybe on the trip there'd be some dead time to study up more? Then I changed my mind again. In fact, I dithered about bringing it for so long I honestly can't tell you whether it's been packed or left home. My old Pentax K-1000 had a push-n-hold release cable, just my kind of technology. My plan is to hit a camera store and see if there's one for my fancy camera there. Meanwhile I'll rely on the by-the-book instructions for how long to set the camera for an open shutter.

Having finally thought I had the camera set for night shots only, set on manual, preset timing, shutter opening, focus for distance/infinity, and spanking new battery installed, I packed the case to go in the car. If you read that sentence carefully, you may pick out my first mistake already. It took me until after my first night's shoot.

Steve and I got up at 3:00 AM, piled in the car after those morning necessary chores, and hit the middle of Arches at the time my instructions said we needed to be there, about 2 hours ahead of sunrise. I'm glad it was too dark to see beyond the range of the car's lights, since later I found out that the initial climb up had a couple nice drop offs along the side of the road. We checked out several pullouts to try to figure out what might be a decent foreground with a little help from a friendly flashlight. After a bit we realized my quest was pointless since we had no idea what anything beyond headlight range was besides totally invisible, and we'd been too tired to check out the park the afternoon before. Save that wish for my "experienced night photographer" phase - should it ever happen. Any pullout would suffice. Later research revealed my fantasy shot was impossible without a long hike and a lot of advance prep. If at all!

So, park, shut off engine and kill car lights, step out and look up. O! M! G! We truly had never seen a sky like this! Our previous best dark skies showed light bands of Milky Way stretching across a part of the sky, just enough diffuse glow to know what we were looking at. Here it stretched from horizon to horizon, and was almost as if we could see individual stars in it, bands of almost braided section separated from the main, and gazillions of closer stars everywhere else. The Big Dipper was the first to shout its presence at us, easily recognizable to one for whom it was the first and dependably recognizable constellation since my memory of stars began.

The necessary tripod was an issue. We could have fitted the camera on it before leaving the motel, or better, the night before. Tiredness won. So out where visibility is a shade above zero with the help of a flashlight,  a miss on fitting the ends together so the threads  match straight on is practically mandated, and a mis-step means the camera goes crashing to the pavement, we're working to attach the pair. Once that was completed without dropping anything essential, it was all about aiming and having it hold still once set. In theory. I realized after shooting for the night that while I'd remembered to take the lens cap off, I'd neglected to take off the UV lens protecting the camera. I figured every iota of light mattered. Oops, try them again. My display still kept insisting it was too dark. I was hopeful enough to try to dismiss that as the camera not recognizing I'd kept the shutter open a long time to make up for it. 

Or had I? Paranoia struck, and I imagined myself rotating the dial back from wide angle to normal, and changing the focus from infinity to right here. One is clockwise, the other counter. I hadn't bothered to check what their positions were before I considered myself content with the shoot. Meanwhile the sky was lightening, and it was no longer worthwhile to make corrections that night. Fortunately, there were two nights in a row with forecast clear skies. Time to go back to the motel, download, and check.

Remember that mistake I made back at the beginning before packing the camera? Did you guess that I'd taken out the SD card to see what might have been left on it years ago, and not replaced it? Oops.

Night number two.

Steve had been too short of sleep and asked if I was realy truly OK with heading up before 4 AM on my own this time while he slept in. Since I'd had one go at it and was well acquainted with the park after we two had headed back in after daylight so we could actually see it and take our many many shots, I felt fine. If there was a niggling doubt as to being taken advantage of as an old senior female, I was pretty unrecognizable as such under Steve's Navy bill cap, my dark navy windbreaker, and jeans. No way was I prepared to insist on destroying his sleep or lose my second chance at getting star shots.

Before heading up, I reviewed my procedures, spent time with Steve showing me how to set which twisty thing on the tripod to get what result, plus going up with camera already attached and legs short enough to fit in the car seat, it was a go. The training worked, and unlike the night before I didn't have to both use the tripod and hold the camera in place while on it. I thought I'd done a decent job of it, but who could tell to complain?

But there's always something different to screw up, right? This time I tucked the flashlight under one arm and carried the tripod and worked the levers and twisty knobs at the same time, mostly - well, occasionally - with light aimed in a useful direction. Until it dropped. And rolled under the car. Black flashlight, black pavement, black night. Now I had to start the car, turn on the headlights, and finish setting up for the shoot. I still couldn't see the flashlight, so I told myself to remember I needed to back up before taking off and hope it wasn't behind one of my wheels.

Turns out it wasn't behind a wheel, my memory worked, and it is again in the back of the car where it was originally packed. Only now it tinkles. And doesn't light up. My guess is a broken bulb. I did apologize to Steve when I got back to the motel.

This time  I was again in a hurry to see what my results were, having corrected all those previous mistakes. I even decided to reprogram my shutter for an extra 5 seconds, the longest I could get with no cable, even though one of my resources online indicated that I had stepped into the area where one could start to see trails from motion in the stars while the world turned below. It was a gamble, but I felt good about it.

I have pictures this time. Most are completely black. A few show the big dipper, except for the pointer star that aims at Polaris. Another shows 3 stars in no recognizable pattern.

Back to the drawing board! Do I get a manual cable now? There is still time on this vacation, depending on clear skies or no, though the best - aka new - moon has had its run for this cycle. Do I perhaps need one of those expensive wider angle lenses, taking in more sky and thus more light? Might I try to shop in Salt Lake City? Wait till Minnesota and my well known camera store? Or just go work on the latest thousand pictures I've gotten these last 4 days? Can I find more mistakes to make on this quest?

Stay tuned.