Ticket to Ride

2011.02.22 FishHoek

Some lateral thinking resulted in one of my most memorable experiences.

I needed to get to Fish Hoek. In my case the obvious mode of transport would have been by my ‘anti-hijack/theft’ vehicle, our 1970 lefty VW Beetle but it was needed at home.
My telescope transporter, the VW Caddy, could have become a target as overnight parking was to be on a curbside.

The planning of this excursion was leaning strongly in the direction of adventure especially when my thoughts jumped to: train!

We all did the train thing during the Soccer World Cup, why not again in just less than a year later?

My overnight bag was given considerable thought. Clothes and toothbrush were necessities and basic camera equipment unquestionable. I decided on no free advertising for Canon, Lowepro or Manfrotto and opted for a ‘street-stroller’ backpack with a proudly South African label.

Some things were less easy to camouflage -the white skin and a dead give-away that spelled old lady, my grey hair. I could have tried an Andy MacDowell make-over but then, what about the legs and the..no, I had to remain focussed.
Looking back though, I wonder why I had not thought of a hoody..

I would just walk the walk and talk the talk.

Few knew of the plan. To pull this off, I needed only positive input and no rundowns of South African crime statistics – especially no horror stories about the state of the South African Railways.

My husband saw me off at Oostersee Station (the “softer” alternative to the Main Line stations). He was extremely excited about his wife boarding the express train from Malmesbury, which was being pulled by a diesel locomotive but then had serious doubts when he saw the coaches, all packed to capacity. I jumped in before the love of my life could say: NO WAY.

No one took much notice of me, the very obvious odd one out. One younger lady offered me her seat. I said I was fine! Standing was no big deal. I did not have to hang on to anything for support as I was squashed in a very correct upright posture, secured from all sides. Three stations later, a seat became available. Being minus ticket (Oostersee ticket office had not opened yet) was no worry. From World Cup Soccer experience I knew about the post journey ticket booth on platform 22 at Cape Town Station.

As the train was speeding along, I noticed the slow-crawling traffic on the N1 all the way back to the Goodwood off-ramp. Most cars had only one occupant. I did a little arithmetic and came to the conclusion that one train length x three lanes of vehicles, were transporting only about forty eight passengers.

I pushed the push, shoved the shove and jostled the jostle with the rush hour folk.

Due to line maintenance on the Simonstown line, my all-stations, first class (as advised) ticket luckily took me as far as Fish Hoek.  By the way, all coaches on the southern suburbs line are identical and have no ‘class’ distinction. You pay the extra fee and pretend to be in first class.

All the while, I wished that I could expose my camera but would the lady, clearly postpartum, struggling onto the train at Mowbray, holding her little son’s hand while her husband carried a new little bundle, have appreciated the intrusion?

Did the student with the Apple laptop need a grey haired lady taking pics, on top of the fact that a hobo-looking guy was hanging over his shoulder, co-reading his emails?

As the train approached Muizenberg, the beauty of nature enveloped my senses and dispelled my pre-programmed fear. I assessed my situation in a blink,what the hell, out came the camera but I was not quick enough to shoot Muizenberg’s stretch of beach and wild waves dotted with surfers.

With adrenaline rushing, I tried to keep my balance as the train picked up speed and jolted to a halt at each station. I felt the fine spray of the sea against my skin while recording my wild ride to Fish Hoek in continuous shooting mode and forgot about being mugged and all the rest.

As the train came to a halt at Fish Hoek station, my camera went back into its hideaway in my ‘street- stroller’ backpack with the proudly South African flag. I was just a regular commuter. My youthful exhilaration crept back into the protection of my soul as the inspector at the check-out stamped my ticket. I had done it.

For most South Africans, going by train is just an everyday routine and a necessary means of getting from A to B. For me it was an extreme adventure.When I wrote this I promised myself that I would take more train rides to Fish Hoek and maybe include the route to Simonstown as well.

I may not get around to doing this one but I hope I will always feel these sudden urge to take a walk on the wild side.

SUPERmoon

Another Supermoon! – The third for 2019. Jan Feb March..no, not April May June July.. and NO to all, according to Neil deGrasse Tyson.

To set the record straight: Niel deGrasse Tyson is thé American astrophysicist, author and science communicator who is not related to Michael Gerard Tyson, an American former professional boxer as was suggested in  the “Mike Tyson Mysteries”, which is an American adult animated television series, produced by Warner Bros

Niel deGrasse Tyson has been trying desperately to negate all supermoons  by tweeting: “Supermoons are an insult to Superman or supernovas, if a 16.1 inch pizza is ‘super’ to you, compared with a 16.0 inch pizza, then we have an issue of vocabulary”

Those who are really into Astonomy, professionally or as amateurs, understand why the fullmoon appears bigger on the horizon during certain months of a year. The Moon’s orbit is not circular taking it closer or further away from Earth. This is stuff most people do not think about from day to day. The media has actually done us a huge favour by “superfying” the Moon. The hype surrounding these events has added terms like perigee, apogee, perigee-syzygy! to the vocabulary of a much wider audience  while the Moon is getting the attention it deserves.

Fullmoon at perigee. Lights off!..cameras..cellphones..action.. The excitement usually starts two weeks before fullmoon when the first slither of a crescent becomes visible. Social media becomes abuzz with moon images and supermoon challenges. The frenzy is contagious and this is what we want, is it not? The whole aim is to get as many people as possible involved, inspiring them to learn more about our Moon, the workings of our solar system and our place in the universe. Three or four times a year there is this window of opportunity to reach out, especially to the younger generation, to become involved in astronomy, science, engineering or any technology that will get the human race on voyages into space. Three or four times a year writers, poets, lyricists or painters are made acutely aware of the beauty of our universe.

I beg to differ from Niel deGrasse Tyson. I will not get on his snobbish band wagon just to show that I know a bit more than meets the (Supermoon) eye. On every one of these enchanted evenings I will be outside, online or paging through a book about the Moon  if the weather is unfavourable. I hope I will never become blasé and ignore a Supermoon.

Recently the online observatory, Slooh, proposed a Supermoon Challenge. The idea for my entry was sparked by watching my grandchildren at play. The brief was that we should use the online telescopes to take images of the Moon from crescent, waxing to fullmoon. Due to weather conditions in the Canary Islands, I could only capture the images that I used in the “film strip” line up at the bottom of my image. The images of the Moon that my grandchildren are playing with are my own. The backdrop is an image taken on route to a little town, Leipoldtville, in South Africa.  Submissions had to be in before the special livecast which was on 20 Feb 2019

Three submissions had merit. Slooh could not decide on a definite winner. I felt greatly honoured when my submission was named joint winner.

This Supermoon Challenge went deeper than just a winning image. Every evening I took images of the Moon and thought of my four grandchildren as I remembered a song my mom used to sing to me, Que Sera Sera. I thought of my friend who invited me to Leipoldtville to witness the sodiacal light. This image became a reflection of life. Dream..catch..hold.. appreciate.. Tomorrow life may be just a slither of what it is today.

Perigee: the point in the orbit of the moon at which it is nearest to the earth
Apogee: the point in the orbit of the moon at which it is furthest from the earth
Syzygy:  a (roughly) straight-line configuration of three or more celestial bodies in a gravitational system
Perigee- syzygy:  The technical name of a Supermoon is  a perigee syzygy (of the Earth–Moon–Sun system)
Apogee syzygy: The technical name of a micromoon is  apogee- syzygy (of Earth-Moon-Sun system)

The Twin Quasar

I followed an online mission to the Twin (Double) Quasar and took an image. I was not quite sure which of the bright dots represented the quasar. Fellow Slooh members introduced me to Aladin, the interactive sky atlas and I could identify the object easily.

“The Twin Quasar was discovered in 1979 and was the first identified gravitationally lensed object. It appears as two images, a result from gravitational lensing caused by the galaxy YGKOW G1 that is located in the line of sight between Earth and the quasar” – Wikipedia

The quasar lies about 14 billion light years from Earth in the constellation of Ursa Major. The huge elliptical galaxy YGKOW G1 lies directly between Earth and the quasar at 4 billion light-years away and acts as a gravitational lens. Its mass is so great that it can bend the light from objects lying behind it.

I so enjoyed a course Intro to Astro on Slooh by Dr Paige Godfrey where one of the topics was gravitational lensing. Now I have a practical example to add to my notes.

 

 

Pied Barbets in my Garden

It all began when we had to take down a huge Euphorbia Ingens, commonly known as the naboom, as it was becoming hazardous. While we were at it, we lopped a second smaller tree as well. The large trunk went to a garden refuse site (big mistake – we should have kept it!)  A honeysuckle was planted to camouflage the remaining naboom trunk.

The creeper flourished. The naboom died providing an attractive abode for bumblebees and wasps.

A few years went by. It was a beautiful Saturday morning. Something about the smooth rhythm and constant hammering of a neighbour doing woodwork sparked my curiosity. The typical Saturday morning sounds turned out to be coming from a pied barbet which had, by that time, carved quite a substantial hole in the naboom trunk!

Male and female took turns to prepare the nest. They took extreme care with the size of the hole, chiselling bit by bit, hopping in and out and testing it for size. So it came to be that we had our first barbet family living beneath the rambling rose gazebo which was my 50th birthday present from my husband and where I was going to spend hours reading or having tea or whatever. I was obliged to donate my gazebo to the barbets.

The cycle of knock-knocking, brooding, hatching, cleaning and resting has added a certain rhythm to our lifes. We have and seen many broods hatch from that hole.

To remain happy and entertained, the barbets eventually needed new nesting logs. I bought sisal logs at the nursery but although they enjoyed chomping holes into those, they always preferred the original hole. We should have never discarded that Euphorbia Ingens trunk. I would have had an abundant supply of nesting logs.

I embarked on nest maintenance, removing the decayed top third of the trunk, covering it with an upside down plastic plant container to keep the inside of the log dry. Eventually after two more seasons I had to take down the whole trunk. One part (which included the original nest) I could use as a log and secured that on a pole.  Barbets will only construct a nest in a hole about two-four metres off the ground and the log has to slant slightly.

From then on I kept my eyes peeled for any cacti, palm, acasia or other suitable hollow wood logs. I sometimes wonder what the people in my neighbourhood think when they see me walking down the road with logs and all kinds of dry branch material. Recently the car attendant at our library came to my rescue when he noticed me struggling to fit a log into my VW Beetle. From now on he will also be alerting me if new “old” logs become available.

Barbets don’t like fresh and green. It’s dry and hollow they’re after but never brittle. The logs have to have a substantial circumference – sometimes they squeeze many birds in one nest during winter.

From my window I have a bird’s eye view of what’s happening in the nest. I have seen them breed about three times in one season – two chicks at a time. Seeing a chick peeping from the hole for the first time is so special- peeping just a little further each day, diving back into the nest at the slightest flutter of a leaf, moth or insect. Once the chick has surveyed the world and decided its ok out here, it pops out of the nest and follows the parents to a nearby branch for its first proper flying lessons. I was totally devastated the first time I noticed the parents refusing the youngsters entry into the nest as soon as they had flown the coop. It is the regular routine. One or two nights maximum and they have to make their own sleeping arrangements. This is why extra logs with extra holes are vital. Even more interesting is that the youngsters from the last brood are allowed to stay as long as they like! I can only think that with winter approaching, the extra “duvets” in the nest are most probably quite cosy. Once this last little family has bonded they leave the nest temporarily. This is breathing time for the nest – to rid it from parasites, I suppose.

During this time I do “home maintenance” They do check-ups while I’m at work. Well after sunset one of the barbets does the last inspection to see whether other birds are not attempting a take-over of the nest. They are not as vocal during this nest resting period as in the breeding season. I always wait in anticipation – will they accept my new log contructions or not. It would be a truly sad day if they stayed away for ever.

The barbets feed mainly on insects, worms and moths but during breeding season they like apple and even go to the birdseed feeder from time to time. We have a rubber tree that bears small fig-like fruits and they love those and I think it was this source of food supply that may have attracted them to the old decaying naboom log.

So far all but two of “our” barbet chicks have survived. The two that died were caught by a neighbour’s cat while taking flying lessons. We heard the parents calling for help and then we saw the lifeless little bodies. That was a very sad day. I’ve lost count of how many barbets we have had in our garden. We’ve become so accustomed to their calls and pecking that it would be strange if they were to leave.

My camera is not pointed at the hole in the log for hours on end anymore, taking pictures while watching the parents prepare the nest, taking turns on the eggs, constantly feeding, constantly removing pooh and the first glimpses of the little ones. I know the routine off by heart and just leave them be, except when their calls seem distressed. We assist in shooing away cats or Lesser Honeyguides who may be threatening the nest. They accept our “help” but that’s as far as it goes. If we were to interfere too much, they would leave for good.

It is nest resting time at this time of writing. I have erected an additional log. Will the cycle continue?