Today should have started at 6 am. Today should have greeted me with a chilly sunrise and some chocolate chip muffins, before the whole class sheepily shuffled into the cars for a lovely trip to the mirror lab. Today should have been a full itinerary, complete to the point where I just wanted to pass out at the end of the day. But, due to an unforseen event, the Mirror lab was closed. I didn't hear the specifics from DA, but it sounds like they are either calibrating or testing equipment, and the mirror lab is closed to the public - even the elite public, like us.
Instead, the day started at 8, with banana nut muffin, and a still kinda chilly morning. We shuffled into the cars all the same, and took a fairly long ride (I spent most of it in varying degrees of unconciousness, and as such do not have a good gague of how long it took) up to kitt peak. The instruments atop that mountain are remarkable. There was a huge range of telescopes, spectroscopes, and miscellanious doodads. But, with the exception of one telescope, everything was separated from us, and the whole event had a very strong feel of "Tourist trap", which I shall go into more detail shortly.
Our first visit was the sun building. An oddity; half of the building was at a wonderful tilt, aligned with true north. The other half of the building (Rounded, more like 3/4ths) was driven into the ground. Inside was a fantastic feat of engineering; at the top, 3 lenses followed the sun and focused down the excessivly long tunnel to a primary mirror (for each). This mirror in turn reflected to secondaries and tertiaries, which directed the beams down to the control room. We left the gawkerbox, as I shall refer to the enclosed, windowed rooms we spent most of our trip in, and hunted down the control room. Through sheer luck, we caught one of the operators just as he was leaving for lunch. He invited us in, and we got to see the inner workings. I shan't bore you with the specifics, but suffice to say that there were 2 experiments set up (one running), and the final beam was directed to a flat table, where with the assistance of heavy sunglasses, we were able to identify a sun spot on the sun. We thanked the hungry operator for his time, and set out for a tour of the rest of the facility.
We visited the dome that the students who visited in October got to use, although we did not explore inside it. Nearby, there was a much much larger telescope (nearly double the size) that used the same size dome, really cementing in my mind just how far we have come, both in terms of engeneering and technology. From there, we visisted a few more telescopes that held the "You are a tourest and are a danger to the equipment; stay away", and thus did little to hold my interest beyond the initial scan of the equipment / mounting system.
We broke up the telescope splunking to grab lunch and investigate the visitor center. Of the various objects there, three caught my eye; An excessivly large coffee mug (purchased), Monopoly IN SPACE (35$, thus not purchased), and a pair of boxers with the milky way on them, and an arrow that pointed to the back and wrote "Uranus is here". While the last warrented a chuckle, I sadly do not have the audacity to wear such a thing, and thus they remained unpurchased. Lunch was a simple affair, chips and pb&j's. With food and souvineers, we were greeted by one of the mechanics (maybe engeneers) of Kitt peak, who escourted us out of the visiter center to a telescope that was closed to the public.
We were ushered in past the "no admittance" point, and piled onto an elevator that had a max load of 2500 lbs. Considering there were 13 of us, and each of us (on average) is about 200 lbs (some way less, but most weigh more), it is no doubt in my mind we were over capacity. The engeneer thought the same, and expressed his concern: "If the light goes out, then that means we're over capacity. Shortly after that, the elevator will drop back to the bottom. Hopefully it won't kill all of us." So, of course, just as we were about to reach the top, the light went out, and most of us jumped / paniced. I, of course, with my incredibly mental capacity, had logic'd out that the light would turn off regardless (we were going up to the dome, and flooding it with light every time someone uses the elevator would ruin too many exposures), and as such didn't jump. He got a good laugh out of our reactions, and then we noticed that the elevator stopped a good 3 inches short of the top floor, and we realized very quickly that we were REALLY over capacity.
The telescope itself was pretty neat. I've become slightly disillusioned with them as of late, as we have been recieving a concentrated dose of telescope pretty much every day. Still, being next to them is awe-inspiring, and there were a few technical and logistical points that I asked for clarification. After we had our share of the telescope, we explored the control room, and the overhang. I gagued our height at ~3 stories, justin at 4, when in reality, we were 90 feet off the ground, proving once again that I'm terrible at gaguing distance - expecially in thin, clear air.
Our tour of kitt peak was rounded off with a trip to the last telescope / gallery. Once again, we were funneled into a gawkerbox, although this one streched the circumfrence of the building. Again, the instruments were cool, and again I was awed by the sheer magnitude of them (expecially when I realized the motor rotating this beast of a telescope could fit in my hand), but the cold, seperated feeling that the glass panes created kind of killed the mood. On an amusing note though, there was a fire hose with the label "Firehose, for Fire use only. HANDS OFF."
We wrapped up the trip and returned to the hotel, although this time I spent it in deep conversation. Half of this deep conversation was a consistent pop-culture back and fourth with other students in the car, while the other half was an interesting question DA posed to me. Through a thereputic chain of events, the car somehow got onto the topic of transitions in musical nature. Each decade had a genre of music that "defined" it, either due to an extremely influential band (i.e. greatful dead or beatles) or through the creation of a genre (hip-hop, rap). Dane posed "What was the transition between 1830 and 1840 then?". I responded, resonably so, that I had no experience with the subtle nuances of musical transitions of the 1800's. When asked "why not?" I responded (reasonably so) with "Because knowing this isn't at all even remotely helpful to me."
Arion took offence to this, and asked me flat out "why did you go to a liberal arts college." It took me a moment, but I responded with something to the effect of "Becuase having a basic knowledge of English, Philosophy, and Religion amoung other things will make me a more rounded person. Not quite a jack of all/master of none, but more than a one trick pony." The banter went back and forth betwixt us, ultimately culminating into professor Arion stating that "I'm disappointed in students with that kind of attitude," continuing on to say (paraphrased) that students shouldn't actively avoid knowledge just because they don't think it will be useful. I took offense at this point, but unfortunately, the conversation had changed topics, and I was unable to dredge back up this particular thought path.
The reason I took offense is this; Professor Arion painted two distinct pictures of the students - one where the student actively avoids knowledge, and one where the student actively seeks knowledge. The former, clearly, is a problem. A person is only as smart as they can convince other people they are. A genious who can't share his genious is just a lunatic. Likewise, a person who is only of middling intellegence, but can convey all of their ideas completely could easily come off as being incredibly intellegent. But I've gotten off topic. The latter student is a model that all students should strive for, but has some logistical issues. Speaking from knowledge as a double-major-triple-minor, I can say that it is incredibly easy to spread oneself out too thin. A person who seeks every knowledge is one who is bound to be - at best - mediocre at everything. The reality is, of course, between the two. And while Arion took my statement as to place me smack dab in the former (the actively avoiding category), it was more of a neutral statement. My statement was not to convey my disdane of the 1830's transition from classical to romantic music, but rather that I've not been exposed to it, nor had I actively searched it out. If the class had been available, assuming adequite pitching and time allotment, I would have taken it. But, obviously, the class doesn't exist, and I've no experience with the 1830's musical purview.
The conversation wrapped up with Nick asking me "what about dances of the 1830's?", to which I responded "Not useful at all for physics, but it would be interesting to learn about." Ultimately, I decided that the dichotomy isn't "Those who scorn knowledge versus Those who sponge knowledge", but that the dichotomy is "Those who learn for the sake of learning, versus those who avoid learning for the sake of learning." The two new categories relate nicely to the original two we created, counter-respectivly, in that at a glance they appear to be the same. The student who learns for the sake of learning will go out of their way to learn miscellanious information, while the student who avoids it will shun anything they find trivial. And this distinction made itself clear when Melissa offered me some of the Romantic composers of the time, and I responded with "That would be nice, thank you". This places me, at least somewhat, in the learning for the sake of learning, although my interest in the music is purely asthetic. I don't wish to study how the violin's somber cry transitions from the rigid classical to the more free-form romantic eras. I just want to enjoy some music from the 1840's, and if I notice a difference, excellent. If not, I'll still enjoy the music. Still, someone who avoids learning would have turned down the chance to expand their horizions. But I realize now that I've divoted more than half of this post to a hypothetical ending to our short discussion on our ride home. My apologies.
We returned to La Quinta, and I repacked all of my stuff (forgot to pack my shoes). We grabbed dinner at sweet tomatos, and I took a wonderful shower to wash away what little grime I accumulated during our short walk around Kitt Peak. This time tomorrow, I will be lying back in my own* bed, cursing the sub-zero temperatures. Still, it is with no amount of regret that I say I am glad that this trip is winding down. As I have alluded to previously, I've a weakness to home-sickness, and the thought of returning to Wisconson has my heart aflutter.
*Own read as dorm-rooms. My actual bed is still a few days away, assuming I can sneak away during the weekend to head home; doubtful, as we have a paper and a poster to design in 6 days.