I decided to take a break from my astronomical pursuits for a few weeks. It turns out that standing outdoors in the winter, trying to get a touch screen tablet to acknowledge the presence of my human digits at 10°F, is not as much fun as one might think. There have been no clear skies, just snow and more snow, with two exceptions. The first described above, the second on what I like to call the day of the “incident”.

Getting everything to work, at least as a concept, meant it was time to test the process. So I opted for daytime; no grunting around in the dark with a red flashlight affixed to my forehead to prevent night blindness or trying to find Polaris as a reference point through the trees. A target was selected that would not be too difficult to locate in the sky, which happened to be the sun. Yes, that big orange ball as poorly represented above.

The laptop’s Bluetooth and WiFi were connected to the telescope’s powered devices, all located outside and visible through a window. A solar filter covered the telescope’s aperture, preventing the optics and electronics from frying. An image was captured before the autofocuser settled, and just before a 45 mph gust of wind blew the telescope out of window’s view. Quickly. It was as though it had stepped back into heavy traffic on a busy New York City street and was clobbered by a fast moving bus. Okay, not exactly like a fast moving bus… more of a teetering shove in the wrong direction by a Eli Zero traveling at its maximum speed of 25 MPH. In any event, it was… distressing.

I rushed outside to see everything lying in a mechanical heap with tripod legs splayed asunder. A trail of metal, plastic and optical components spread out across the porch deck, trickling down the granite steps and pooling on the snow covered lawn. A piece of chalk to memorialize its presence with an outline would have been handy, but only this semi in-focus image of that lucky old sun remained. Looks like the opening to the old TV show “Kung Fu”. So for now…

Visualization – The killer of dreams

I finally found two suppressors for impulse buying. The first is my Amazon shopping cart. When I find myself sitting at the computer, grazing through Amazon and finding many things I need… a 25″ carbon steel wok, an electric bookmark, socks made from recyclable paper products, etc. I toss them into my shopping cart and avoid checking out for 24 hours. If, within 24 hours, I remember why I put them in my shopping cart and I have retained my zest for ownership, I purchase them. The pick/buy ratio is approximately 1/5,000. I think that was once called window shopping.

For larger items, like those in the garage and shop I can’t remember when or why they were purchased, I use visualization. I imagine I’ve purchased the item, then subject it to its intended purpose, while sampling my logical and emotional state throughout the process. As a recent example, I like going on photography outings, but there is a limit as to how many inconveniences I am willing to suffer to engage that interest.

There’s packing up the truck, packing a lunch that won’t spoil over the course of the day. Then there is gassing up the truck, driving for hours, finding a place to eat, finding a place to park the truck to nap, locating bathrooms, etc. So I deduced that getting an accommodating small travel trailer seemed like a perfect solution. I could load my photo gear into a 13′ Scamp X and take off for the day, or even three. Maybe pack some fishing gear, put some food in the fridge, get satellite cable so I can write while away and maybe even watch a little after dinner streaming TV. Not bad for $10,000… $20,000? $30,000? Still, I’d be living the dream.

What would it be like? What would it be like? What wou…. (Insert ripple dissolve)

So I back the truck up to my new $75,000 Oliver Elite. Turns out four season capable travel trailers, heavily insulated with protected systems, a furnace and AC is a tad more expensive than the little Scamp X. Additionally, I spend $1,000 on a front hitch lift with a battery powered driven wheel for navigating and turning the trailer around in tight spaces without the truck attached.

The extended cab, long bed truck is 20′ in length, but the 13′ trailer is actually 18.5′ long, so realistically 38.5′ of vehicles to hustle down Maine’s narrow mountain and lakeside roads, while negotiating tight turns and steep grades. Manageable. But wait! Before pulling away I notice the trailer is filthy from sitting outside. The AC made it too tall to clear the garage doors so it sits out in the weather. I drag out a ladder and the pressure washer and clean it up until presentable, then go on and load up my gear, some food for the fridge… a change of clothes and a ditty bag.

Now all set, the wagon train heads out, but to where? How hard could it be to find a picturesque spot to photograph, where the truck and trailer could be pulled off the road and onto some level ground? Hard. It is 38.5′ of runaway Super Train in the hands of an unskilled engineer, even if just under 7′ wide, vehicle parking restrictions abound.

I know. I’ll pull into a large parking lot of one of those big box stores, leave the trailer, drive out  to get my pictures, then go back and pick the trailer up when I am done. In fact, maybe I’ll just stay in the trailer overnight when I return, and go out exploring again the next morning. Of course I’d have to transfer my gear from the trailer to the truck. Unfortunately, the box store manager advises there was no parking, so I am off again. I’m developing a facial tick and the stress is bringing on tunnel vision.

So I look at my Maine Travel Guide and find two state parks with travel trailer accommodations. I call the first and I am told they are full, booked up since January. The second had open spots, but only after driving up to the entrance gate, with heavy traffic ahead and a caravan behind, am I advised that the only open spots are restricted to a maximum length, truck and trailer, of 30′.  So I pull through and make a 726 point turn to get back out. I heard loud crowd applaud as I left. No doubt appreciation for my advanced driving skills, although being pelted with rocks remains a mystery.

The truck had a full tank at the onset, but now it is down to a quarter. Hmm… using a lot more gas pulling just under 5,000 lbs. So I drive around in search of gas station with easy access and exit. Found one and pulled in. A car pulled in facing me, effectively blocking my exit. So I gassed up and waited for that car to pull out around me or to back out. The driver did pull around me, but by then there was a line of traffic in front of me, cars in queue to fill up. I finally got another guy pulling a trailer to spot for me while I backed up… and backed up… and backed up some more. Again I fled crowd ire.

So I pulled out into the street, not sure which way or why to turn. I pulled into another box store half empty parking lot. Got my guide books and climbed into the trailer to make some coffee so I could sit and read and maybe find a place that would accommodate the trailer for the night. Loud knocking on the door. A private security guard touring his perimeter, letting me know I had to either buy some nails, lumber and paint, or move along. An open display of hostile authority!..!!  It’s easy to hate The Man.

I find a camp ground. Yeah for me! Pulling in, there is AC power, fresh water supply, a place to empty gray and black tanks and an easy way to pull in and to exit in the morning. A redneck utopia, and for only $85/night plus services. As this is all going on in my head, no actual redneck demeaning intended. Peering out the window and into the recreation areas, families and couple abound, happy faces, all obviously masters of their land roving ships.

The morning after

I get a good night’s sleep. The little trailer is very comfortable. With external power connected, the AC keeps me cool. I truly enjoy waking up rested and use the bathroom and wet shower in preparation for the day. I pull out a couple of eggs and bacon from the compact fridge and cook them on the efficient two burner stove. I wash the dishes and sit relaxed, savoring a cup of black coffee. I exit, get in the truck after disconnecting from the spot and head down the road.

Heading home, I take a scenic route, passing many really nice spots I would have liked to visit. I did not. I attempted, but maneuvering in tourist season traffic and parking areas was too difficult and too disrupting, so I head home. Filling the gas tank again, gees this thing uses a lot of gas, at least it was a straight shot in and out. I get home, unhook the trailer, use the little tow motor to turn the trailer around and pull the truck into the garage. I am exhausted, I took no pictures and I caught no fish. I was too busy tending a travel trailer.

I spent the next few days thinking about how I might more readily use the trailer in a way that would meet my goals. I drew a blank and caught a bad case of buyer’s remorse. A week later I sold the trailer for $40,000, taking the hit to my retirement account.

Epilogue (Insert ripple dissolve)

I am sure there are literally millions of people who enjoy the hell out of small travel trailers. People willing to pay the price to gain the experience to make it work for them. For the few bright spot I could image, it would be easier to load up the truck with photo, fishing gear and a change of clothes and head out. If I got tired or wanted to stay for a bit, I could just check into a nice hotel and order a fish dinner from room service.

In the short term, I think I will hang around and repair the telescope.