West Virginia - Day 15 - Green Bank Observatory

Blackwater Falls State Park
Monday, 15 April 2019

[photo of route not yet available]

Last night's campground - East Fork Campground - is just off the main street of Durbin, which is a tiny village that seems to be trying hard to reinvent itself.  It was originally a logging town, and now has a popular local restaurant, a historic train depot, a visitor center that may function during tourist season but definitely not now, several vacant buildings, and a hearty welcome for sport fishermen.  Fishermen are allowed to fish in the stream that runs through the campground, even if they aren't staying there, as long as they walk in.

During the night a serious storm set in, with very high winds that rocked us around enough to bother the dogs.  And me, for that matter.

I found in the morning that the wind was also bringing a storm front, including what's called "wintry mix."  Fortunately, none of the snowflakes in the mix seemed to be sticking, but it was unnerving.  And the winds were really squirrely, switching direction without warning.  I hoped they'd die down before I had to do much driving, but sadly that hope was unfounded.

We passed through Frank, a mile or so east of Durbin, which was originally founded around a tannery, which used the bark of the hemlock that was being harvested in the area as part of the tanning process.  Frank has a row of 10 or 12 houses that looked like they were built 100 years ago - all 2-story with a 1-story add-on in back (like a kitchen or bathroom).  The town seemed to be in better shape than Durbin, though I don't know why as I'm sure the tannery isn't still going.

Another mile or so down the road is Bartow, built as a distribution center for timber harvesting - and based on the log yard I saw, it still is.

ours had a lot more white on its tail

We headed through countryside toward the observatory and saw a beautiful Red Fox run across the road right in front of us and bound up the embankment along the road.

At first I didn't think Dexter, riding shotgun as usual, realized what he was seeing because he just sat there.  Then he jumped up and stood on the windowsill trying to see over the embankment.  I've never seen him do that before.  I sympathized - I wanted to see more of him myself.  He was beautiful.  I was glad, though, that the fox ran toward the right side of the road - imagine if Dexter had wanted to look out my window instead.

I was surprised how big he looked, but online it says they're usually 36"-42" long and 16" tall, and I guess this one was on the large end of that scale.  If he hadn't been so red and looked so much like a fox, I might have thought he was a dog instead.

Green Bank Observatory
Having seen the displays at the Goddard Space Flight Center in Maryland, I wondered whether I'd learn anything new.  Well, that question got answered almost as soon as the tour got started, because our guide explained that instruments like the Hubble Telescope are picking up visual light waves, while the telescopes at this observatory are picking up radio waves.

The National Radio Astronomy Observatory, at Green Bank, WV, was founded in 1956.  This location was chosen because the Allegheny Mountains surround the site and protect against radio frequency interference.  Also 64% of the area is state and national forest land.  And it's a farming area with a low population.  It's now surrounded by the 13,000-acre National Radio Quiet Zone, designated by the feds in 1958 to promote radio astronomy.  In this zone, internet comes in using wires, rather than signals, and cell towers are heavily regulated.  Near the telescopes no cell phones are allowed and all motors are diesel (no spark plugs).

Reber Telescope

Jansky Antenna

Sorry the antenna photo is so fuzzy, but this thing really doesn't look like any antenna I've ever seen - it's just this big white metal thing about 4' high, lying on the ground with rods pointing up.

The foundation for the observatory's work was 2 inventions: the Jansky Antenna and the Reber Telescope.  Karl Jansky invented this antenna in the 1930s, and picked up more than just thunderstorms: he believed the signals he was getting came from the Milky Way.  Young Grote Reber heard about this invention and tried to get a job with Jansky - but it was the Depression era and no jobs were available.  So Reber taught himself astronomy and in 1936 built this exact telescope in my photo in his mother's backyard, using materials bought at the local hardware store.  It was the first dish-shaped radio telescope ever.

In a search for extraterrestrial intelligence (SETI), a similar design was built in a 1959 telescope that's still being used today.  Called Project Ozma (has anyone else read more than the first Wizard of Oz book?), it didn't find anything, but the search continues today.

That 1959 telescope was joined in 1964 by an identical scope built 1½ miles away; together they formed the 1st interferometer system.  (At this point, I understood nothing and wouldn't dream of trying to translate off internet sites.  If you're interested, look it up for yourself.)  In 1967 a 3rd identical telescope was added to the system.  Shortly, a 4th telescope was added to the system, and together they discovered Sagittarius A*, the black hole in the center of our galaxy.  This system was the prototype for other interferometer systems like the Very Large Array in New Mexico.

Green Bank Telescope

There are other telescopes at the observatory, some operational and some there only for historical purposes.  But the main scope is the Robert C. Byrd Green Bank Telescope (GBT - also stands for Great Big Thing).  It's more than 300' wide and 485' high.  It can rotate and tilt and was doing both when I was there.  It weighs 17 million pounds and, not long after it was installed, it started grinding the track it sits on to powder; they had to jack it up (all 17 million pounds of it) to replace the track.  It was first used in 2000 and has a life expectancy of 50 years.  It's unique among large radio telescopes because of its design - offset optics and active surface - and for being the world's first fully steerable radioscope.  We were not allowed to take photos unless we had a non-digital camera.

They were really clear about wanting us to be careful - including locking up a kid's Fitbit during the tour, and gave some odd examples of frequency interference: a nearby electric fence started sending out signals because the grass got too high (they cut it); they noticed some flying squirrels - well, not the squirrels but the radio trackers some biologists had tagged them with.  Those telescopes are sensitive.

I saw some deer while I was there and asked the guide about bird migration.  She said occasionally a bird will build a nest in the telescope dish, but they don't much like the turning and tilting so don't stick around.

Driving North

Not far from the observatory I saw this barn, and shortly after that I saw a sign pointing toward a Mennonite meeting house.  And I passed a second one later and started wondering about who the Mennonites are and how they're different from the Amish.  This website explains a little about their beliefs  https://www.gotquestions.org/Mennonite-beliefs.html and this one a bit about the differences between the two sects  http://amishamerica.com/whats-the-difference.  Not quite what I expected.

I passed a farm with quite a few goats in the yard and saw 2 adult males, complete with horns, on opposite sides of a metal fence, butting heads with each other through the fence.  Almost stopped to see if they got caught in the fence.

The wind was still blowing really hard and I passed fields where all the calves were huddled on the ground.

I saw a turkey because it was flying across the road - I'm not used to seeing them in the air and it took me a minute to figure out what it was.

I ended up behind a state truck fixing potholes, and noticed the difference as soon as I passed it.  That stretch of road was really rough.

It was still doing the wintry mix thing, then it was snowing but with no accumulation (I watched nervously because the roads were remote and bumpy and s-curvy), and then accumulation but just under the shelter of evergreens, and then accumulation under the bare branched trees - but it never showed up on the roadway.  The road barely even looked damp.

Just as well because I found myself on a 9% grade for 4½ miles and then saw a sign saying I was entering the Potomac Valley (the sign had icicles hanging on it).  Remember the divider between Maryland and West Virginia is the Potomac River.  And next I saw a sign saying I was in the Chesapeake Bay Watershed.

I passed Spruce Knob, West Virginia's highest point at 4,863'.  All along the roads I came to tiny communities, cows and sheep and a few horses.  The wind gusts were most noticeable when I'd get to a gap in the mountains.

Then the rain and snow stopped and the sun came out and the road flattened out.  For a little while, at least.

I came to a town named Judy Gap - there's also a Judy Gap that's a gap, and Judy Rocks, all named after a Swiss-German family of early settlers in the area.

Seneca Rocks

I passed the Smoke Hole Caverns and the Seneca Caverns and turned left at the town of Seneca Rocks.  There I saw multiple signs advertising climbing instruction and professional guide services, and it finally dawned on me that Seneca Rocks are also actual rocks and people climb on them.  Turns out the south peak is one of the few on the East Coast that can be reached only by technical rock-climbing techniques.

I passed a large flock of sheep with many lambs (a good year for lambs as well as calves, apparently), some of them black, some still nursing.  Very cute.

I passed a sign telling me that I'd reached the Allegheny Mountain (as distinct from the mountain range) and the Eastern Continental Divide.

Then it started to rain again, and then a wintry mix, and then a thick cloud of snow and then I found myself on a climb so steep I looked around to see what the downhill grade was - 10% - so very glad I was going up, though I kept worrying that what goes up must come down.  But I never saw snow sticking to the roadway.  It was just too warm, I guess - mid-30s probably.

Then I got to a sign that said "Welcome to Randolph County" followed immediately by a sign warning of a 7% grade.  Oh well - it wasn't a 10% grade.

I passed many small waterfalls, a herd of deer, accumulating snow, and a climbing roadway.

Then I got to Canaan Valley, a national natural landmark, the highest large valley east of the Mississippi, and the second-largest inland wetland in the US.  It has some interesting history and biology.   https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Canaan_Valley

I passed through Davis, the highest incorporated town in West Virginia, according to their sign.

And by then I was completely pooped and was lucky the road to tonight's state campground is actually in Davis.  At the campground I found we were the only campers.  When I'd called earlier in the week, the ranger said campsites were on a first-come-first-served basis, and I asked him what my chances were of finding a spot if I turned up and he said about 90%.  I see now that he was being pessimistic.  Maybe it was the snow on the ground. 

I know this picture's fuzzy, but it's partly because it was snowing when I took it, and I mainly wanted to prove I wasn't kidding about the snow.  But I had plenty of propane and the campground had electric plug-ins, so I was happy.