Huelas

(Last of two parts)

While I was reading what I had written about Big Foot for the first part of this column "Huelas" which appeared last week, I had, on the side, a driving map of a trail I would soon be taking on assignment and oddly enough, it would take me southwest from where I am now, passing the Sierra Nevadas where there, someone has been staking his perceived sanity, claiming that Sasquatch has also etched his trails on that part of North America. I have a really funny take of what would take place given the extremely small probability that I will even sense a shadow of anyone fitting Sasquatch’s description. I would venture that if he spots me, he/she would go and speak in the conference of "Big Foot" citizens and tell them his/her encounter with me, a member of the species of "Small Foot" and they would all scramble in their own ways of knowing, on how to fathom the species to which I belong. That is how in my mind, I knock off for myself that all too-persistent sense of self-importance that human beings take on when thinking of stuff in nature yet unknown and incomprehensible to them. But enough of Big Foot. As I write this, I suddenly remembered I had a date to keep with another kind of "huelas" in the Japanese garden outside at 2 a.m. So I stopped writing for a while.

It was a cool summer night so I just grabbed and draped a shawl around my cotton nightclothes to go outside and meet the Perseids. The annual Perseid meteor shower was reaching its peak that early dawn of Aug. 13. I sat by the edge of the wooden patio floor and with the moon almost directly at my back, looked toward the "radiant," that point where the meteor showers seem to emanate in the constellation Perseus (which is why the meteor showers are called Perseids). Every year, around the period July 22 to Aug. 22, the Earth passes that spot in its orbit around the Sun where the comet Swift-Tuttle has left its trail. This debris comet material is burned by charged particles from the Sun which at this time when the Earth passes the spot, will also be burned in our atmosphere giving birth to this meteoric light show. The comet Swift-Tuttle passes the inner solar system only once every 128 years and the last passage was in 1992. Some astronomers say that the recent passing of the comet accounts for the generous splay of Perseids in recent years. I say "splay" because the constellation Perseus will lie in an angle low in the northeastern sky. True enough, I did not have to strain my neck watching the night sky perform what seemed to me was the Le Cirque du Soleil of the sky – Le Cirque du Ciel featuring "Perseid-based performers" that early dawn. And there was no need for binoculars or a telescope. My unaided eyes saw just fine.

What I found very interesting was that the shooting stars I saw moved horizontally and some were quite colorful. I later learned that these meteors belong to a kind called earthgrazers since they come from below the horizon (usually between 0 and 10 degrees below) and zoom along a relatively longer path horizontally. Hah, they are not "falling stars" – a phrase I have always looked at as suspect because it gave a sense of "fall from grace" but these earthgrazers redeemed that notion. They are stars that grazed, stars that kissed the Earth, illuminated the skies for a moment and moved on. They neither fell nor clung. What a show above that night!

And yes, it has been all over the news. Mars has started to "shine" on Earth, as it gets closest to us ever. Lots of jokes I hear related to the "Men are from Mars and Women are from Venus" book. Astronomers note that at 34.65 million miles away, on Aug. 27 it will be the closest "ever" because the last time it was about this close was around 60,000 years ago. Aside from Venus which will still be the only planet brightest in our skies, Mars will be the next most splendid thing above in orange or yellow. I do not know if men and women will finally make more sense to each other because of this physical proximity between Earth and Mars but whatever it is you plan to do to test it, keep in mind that in order for it to be a theory, the experiment has to be repeated. There we would have a slight problem because the next time we approach this kind of cosmic intimacy with the red planet will be in 2287. So unless humans will be successful at prolonging their lives beyond prevailing life expectancies, I suggest that you just enjoy the night sky and grab, well, only a telescope.

Looking at the night sky for about two hours, you get used to a relatively rare canvas for your eyes – the uncountable spread of stars – the peeking stars, the faint stars – the bright full moon, Mars nearby finally, the misty jet stream of thin clouds, the very Windows XP-blue night sky. For myself, I almost forgot I was in terra firma until scientist-friends of mine started texting me and I told them eagerly what I was doing. Instead of encouraging me, these physicists promptly warned me, half in jest, against "Peeping Toms" and against the probable passing fits of lunar insanity of some neighbor to which I may fall victim. So much for starry eyes. I then go back inside, softly this time, unlike Big Foot though and the comet Swift-Tuttle, I try not to leave any trace.