Kitt Peak is the oldest national observatory in the United States. It was founded in 1958, when the National Science Foundation signed a lease with the Tohono O’odham Nation, upon whose land the observatory resides. 

Before Kitt Peak, observatories were either privately funded, such as Lowell Observatory, founded by Percival Lowell, or university managed, such as the Harvard College Observatory. But with the rise of the Cold War in the 1950s, there was a desire to have an American space program, which would be supplemented by a national astronomy program. Kitt Peak was chosen as the location because of its high altitude and clear calm skies. It was also reasonably close to the University of Arizona, which had (and still has) an excellent astronomy program.

The McMath-Pierce solar observatory. Credit: Harvey Barrison

Over the years some of Kitt Peak’s status as the flagship U.S. observatory has faded a bit as newer and larger telescopes have been built elsewhere, the history of Kitt Peak is still evident its wide range of telescopes. There are optical telescopes ranging in size from 0.9 meters to the 4-meter Mayall telescope. There are radio telescopes, including a 25-meter telescope that is part of the Very Long Baseline Array, and there is even the McMath-Pierce solar observatory, which observes the Sun during daylight hours.

If you are ever in the area, the observatory does have daily tours and night viewing sessions. It’s one of the more accessible major observatories, and well worth the visit.

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In astronomy, we often lament the rise of light pollution. As populations rise and our use of artificial lighting becomes greater, we lose the dark skies of our ancestors. We can see this effect through the increasing difficulty in observing a night sky filled with stars. While we can’t see radio waves, radio astronomy also suffers from an increase of light pollution.

The mobile radio van to detect stray radio signals.

While the radio quiet zone is often portrayed as a region where modern society can’t encroach, but that’s actually not the case. Folks in the region have internet just like everyone else. They can stream Netflix, stalk Facebook and all the rest of modern society just like everyone else. They just don’t have wifi or cell phones. Except for the “always in your pocket” access to the web, things aren’t that different than any rural area in the US. Even then, there are folks who have wifi in their home and such. Though it’s discouraged, the radio quiet zone can’t control what people do in their own home. It only regulates things like radio stations and mobile phone towers.

Most of the efforts within the region is making sure that things like faulty wiring and old transformers don’t fill the air with loud stray radio signals. These can be addressed by proper equipment maintenance and sometimes a bit of shielding. But we also live in a world that is increasingly radio loud. Bluetooth and wifi are now used not only in laptops and cell phones, but in exercise monitors, smart watches and even batteries in smoke alarms. As the “internet of things” increasingly connects objects to each other, keeping the radio quiet zone truly quiet will become an increasing challenge.

All of these radio loud devices pose no harm to us personally, any more than an electric lamp does. They can even make our lives more convenient. But that convenience comes at a cost to radio astronomy. Modern radio telescopes are so sensitive that even snapping a picture with a digital camera near the telescope can flood the detector with radio light. Hence the need for a radio quiet zone.

It’s the only way radio telescopes can have truly dark skies.

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In the mountains of Chile I experienced the brightest night sky I’ve ever seen. We normally seek dark skies for astronomy, but here the sky is so dark and clear that it seems ablaze with stars. The Milky Way overhead is so brilliant it seems to cast shadows. It is a sight so humbling it’s difficult to put into words.

The Chilean sky with the Zodiacal light in the background. Photo by Peter Detterline

Chile resides in a “sweet spot” for modern astronomy. Steady winds from the Pacific ensure skies relatively free from turbulence, and Chile’s arid mountain range provides plenty of crystal clear nights. Combined with the Chilean government’s efforts to limit light pollution, you have the makings of excellent astronomy. While professional astronomy has been active in Chile for decades, the recent surge of “big astronomy” projects such as the Atacama Large Millimeter/submillimeter Array (ALMA) has led to a rapid growth of astronomy in the region.

There’s also been interest in promoting these efforts to the general public, which is why I had the opportunity to visit the region. Along with eight others I was selected to be part of a National Science Foundation project known as the Astronomy in Chile Educator Ambassador Program (ACEAP). The goal of the project is to bring educators to Chile to get a first-hand look at several observatories so that they can tell people about their experience. Saying yes to the offer was one of the easiest decisions I’ve ever made.

The ACEAP Team. Clockwise starting from far left: Ryan Hannahoe, Petter Detterline, Jim O’Leary, Michael Prokosch, Sergio Cabezon, Brian Koberlein, Renae Kerrigan, Vivian White, Charles Blue, Sarah Komperud and Shannon Schmoll. Photo by Tim Spuck.

Our trip took us from the capital city of Santiago to La Serena (near Gemini and CTIO), then north to the Atacama where ALMA is located. One of the things we noticed early on was a strong interest in amateur astronomy. Santiago’s surrounding mountains ensure that the city can be troubled by smog at times, but it also means you don’t have to travel far from the city to reach dark skies. As a result, there are several “tourist” observatories in the region.

At Cerro Mayu Observatory the artwork is astronomically aligned. Photo by Mike Prokosch.

These observatories tend to integrate artwork and astronomy in fascinating ways, whether it’s the inviting space of Observatorio Astronomico Andio, or the astronomically-aligned Cerro Mayu Observatory. They also aren’t limited to metropolitan regions. In the small town of San Pedro in the heart of the Atacama desert you could find street vendors selling tours of the night sky.

Of course it’s the big telescopes that dominate in Chile. By 2020 more than two thirds of the world’s astronomical infrastructure will be in Chile. Four our trip we focused on just three sites: Gemini South and SOAR on Cerro Pachón outside of La Serena, CTIO on nearby Cerro Tololo, and ALMA in the Atacama desert near San Pedro.

Approaching Gemini South. Photo by Peter Detterline.

Standing in front of the Gemini South mirror. Photo by Sarah Komperud.

Gemini South is an 8-meter telescope that has been in operation since 2000. It uses adaptive optics to gather clear images in the visible and near infrared. It’s name derives from the fact that it has a northern twin on Mauna Kea in Hawaii. As Gemini South maps the southern skies, Gemini North maps the northern skies. Together they cover almost the entire sky. Their specialty is observing the spectra of astronomical objects using both long-slit spectroscopy and integral field spectroscopy. These allow us to study the rotational motion of extended objects such as galaxies and nebulae.

While we only spent a short time on Cerro Pachón, we got to spend two nights on Cerro Tololo. The temperatures were unseasonably mild for early winter, and the night skies were perfect.

Cerro Tololo is dominated by the 4-meter Victor M. Blanco telescope, built in the early 1970s. A main research project of the Blanco observatory is the Dark Energy Survey, which looks for supernovae to study the dynamics and large scale structure of the universe. Near the Blanco telescope are several telescopes that are part of the Small and Medium Research Telescope System (SMARTS). One project that utilizes these telescopes is the CTIO Parallax Investigation, which searches for dim dwarf stars in our solar neighborhood.

The Blanco telescope at night. Photo by Renae Kerrigan.

Since then dozens of telescopes have been built on the site, including a cluster of smaller telescopes that form the “mushroom farm.” Many of these are tenent telescopes that rent space on the site.

It was on Cerro Tololo that we really had the opportunity to get a feel for what these remote observatories are like. We weren’t simply given a tour and sent on our way, but resided with the astronomers and workers. The observatory is remote, so it’s removed from the bustle of everyday life. It has an exquisite beauty that moves some to compose music about the experience.

A zorro (Andean fox) eyes us cautiously. Photo by Jim O’Leary

Of course the observatory most of us looked forward to visiting was the Atacama Large Millimeter/submillimeter Array (ALMA). ALMA is a microwave radio observatory located in the remote Atacama desert. In order to observe such small wavelengths, ALMA was built on the Chajnantor plateau about 5000 meters (16,000 feet) above sea level.

ALMA antennas at Chajnantor. Photo by Mike Prokosch

ALMA consists of more than 60 12-meter antennas as well as 12 7-meter antennas. The 7-meter antennas are designed to be closely spaced, forming the Atacama Compact Array (ACA). Since the antennas use interferometry to create images of the sky, the ACA creates a wide sky view, while the larger array of 12-meter antennas allows us to focus in on particular objects. The antennas can be moved to different locations to allow for different scales and resolutions.

The correlator at ALMA. Photo by Tim Spuck.

The engineering of ALMA is incredibly ambitious. In order to combine signals from the antennas, a supercomputing correlator had to be built on the plateau. It is the highest altitude supercomputer on the planet. The correlator not only has to account for the arrangement of the antennas, but also the orientation of the Earth relative to the target object. As the Earth rotates, the effective separations of the antennas relative to the target change, and the correlator has to account for this in its calculations.

Sarah analyzes ALMA data. Photo by Peter Detterline.

While it was amazing to see some of Chile’s best observatories, what I really gained from the experience was how much modern astronomy is a human endeavor. While we often talk about breakthrough discoveries, or the amazing engineering of modern observatories, much of the work is done behind the scenes. People have to design and manufacture these observatories, and they have to be maintained and supported in order for the science to get done. Machinists, programmers, groundskeepers and security officers all play a necessary role.

There’s also the political machinations necessary for international collaborations. A large observatory such as ALMA is too much for one country to undertake. So ALMA is a collaboration between the United States (NRAO), Europe (ESO), East Asia (NAOJ) and the Republic of Chile. Its coordination has been likened to the United Nations.

And that’s the direction big science is taking. It’s only by working together that we can solve the unanswered questions of the universe.

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Before the 1960s, most major telescopes were in the northern hemisphere. The southern observatories that existed at the time were built more for convenience of access than clarity of skies. This was unfortunate since there are lots of wonderful objects in the southern sky such as the Magellanic clouds and Carina region of the Milky Way. So in 1962 it was decided to build a modern observatory on Cerro Tololo. It was to become the Cerro Tololo Inter-American Observatory (CTIO), but was often referred to as the “Chile Project.”

Construction of the Blanco telescope. Credit: CTIO.

In order to protect the region from development, 30,000 hectares (74,000 acres) of land surrounding Cerro Tololo were purchased for the project. Given its remoteness, an entire infrastructure had to be developed there, including water and electrical power.  The original plan for the site was to build a 1.5 meter telescope, but by the 1970s construction began on a 4-meter telescope. This became the flagship telescope on Cerro Tololo, and was named in honor of Victor Blanco in 1995. Blanco was the second director of CTIO, and was crucial to its establishment as a leading southern observatory.

A bit of music under the watch of Blanco. Credit: Jim O’Leary

Over the years other smaller telescopes have been installed on Tololo, and the Blanco 4-meter has been upgraded. Most recently the 520 megapixel camera array known as Dark Energy Camera was installed in 2012 as part of the Dark Energy Survey. The project studies dark energy through supernovae, baryon acoustic oscillation, and gravitational lensing.

Although there’s no more room for large telescopes on Cerro Tololo, there is room on other hills within the 30,000 hectares of CTIO. Most of the new construction focuses on Cerro Pachón, where the Southern Astrophysical Research telescope (SOAR) and Gemini South are located, and where Large Synoptic Survey Telescope (LSST) is under construction.

It looks like the Chile Project is likely to continue to grow for quite some time.

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Chajnantor means “place of departure,” or more poetically “place of ascension” in the Kunza language of the Atacama region. It is a plateau about 5000 meters (16,000 feet) above sea level. Its elevation and arid climate makes for extremely difficult working conditions, but it also makes it perfect for the Atacama Large Millimeter/submillimeter Array, or ALMA.

ALMA is one of the first truly international astronomical endeavors. Rather than being spearheaded by a single nation with others lending primarily financial support, ALMA is a collaboration between the United States (NRAO), Europe (ESO), East Asia (NAOJ) and the Republic of Chile. It’s coordination has been likened to the United Nations. Given ALMA’s 1.4 billion dollar price tag, international collaboration was the only way the project was feasible.

A 12-meter antenna. Yours truly for scale. Credit: Tim Spuck

ALMA consists of more than 60 12-meter antennas as well as 12 7-meter antennas. The 7-meter antennas are designed to be closely spaced, forming the Atacama Compact Array (ACA). Since the antennas use interferometry to create images of the sky, the ACA creates a wide sky view, while the larger array of 12-meter antennas allows us to focus in on particular objects. The antennas can be moved to different locations to allow for different scales and resolutions.

The engineering of ALMA is incredibly ambitious. In order to combine signals from the antennas, a supercomputing correlator had to be built on the plateau. It is the highest altitude supercomputer on the planet. The correlator not only has to account for the arrangement of the antennas, but also the orientation of the Earth relative to the target object. As the Earth rotates, the effective separation of the antennas change. While this gradual change is a computing challenge, it also allows us to create a more complete image of objects.

Because ALMA focuses on millimeter wavelengths, it is perfectly suited to image cold molecular clouds, both in interstellar regions and surrounding young stars. Since it can image these clouds with the resolution similar to that of the Hubble telescope, it’s able to provide an incredible view of things like planets forming around other stars.

ALMA has only begun what is intended to be a 30-year mission to study the universe. As the largest international astronomy collaboration, it is perhaps fitting that it resides at Chajnantor, as it will likely be a place of departure toward some incredible astronomical discoveries.

This post was made possible in part by the ACEAP project, funded by the National Science Foundation.

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I’m exhausted. I didn’t write a post yesterday because I was traveling back from Chile to Rochester. Normally I would have had a pre-written post, but in the past 10 days I’ve been on seven airline flights, traveled thousands of miles, stayed up far too late looking at stars, learning new things about astronomy in Chile and meeting new friends. My trip to Chile has been amazing, and it will take time for me to process it all and really start writing about it in a meaningful way. I had meant to write a general astronomy post today, but I can barely keep my eyes open. I’ll start writing regular posts … zzzzzzzz.

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The main site at ALMA is at an elevation of 16,400 feet. Roughly half the atmosphere is below you at that point, and oxygen levels are pretty low. It can have some minor adverse effects in the best conditions, and downright life-threatening effects in the worst. So you have to pass a basic physical on site, and if you don’t pass, you don’t get approved for the ALMA high site.

I didn’t pass.

So, as the pied piper led the children up the mountain, I was the boy left behind. While the rest of the ACEAP team is visiting the highest astronomy project in the world, I’m writing this, and the taste is bitter indeed.

There isn’t a clear trend for those who don’t pass. Overweight sedentary folks have passed while young, marathon-running vegetarians haven’t. It all depends on how you react to high altitudes. If the medics deem you too much of a risk, you don’t go, and there’s no arguing with them, as it should be. That “I’ll be fine” approach at high altitudes is how you get into trouble.

It’s tempting to sit and stew about it. Curl up a fist and start pounding sand. But that’s not how science works. On twitter right now there is buzz about the explosion of SpaceX’s Dragon this morning. I’m sure Elon Musk is having a bad day as well, so at least I’m in good company. I have a feeling, however, that Musk and his team aren’t going to pack it up and get out of the space business. Not everything happens as planned, in science and in life.

Find a crew. Find a job. Keep flying.

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As we’ve been traveling across Chile, we’ve seen billions of dollars worth of astronomical equipment. These are big projects, and in the case of ALMA, driven by a large multinational consortium. With all the money and effort put into creating these projects, you might think that the ability to use the facilities would be limited to an exclusive club of astronomers. Surprisingly, it’s not.

There are two things that come into play with big projects such as ALMA, Gemini and CTIO: observing time and data. In order to get observing time, you have to submit a proposal that goes through a review process. There are negotiated amounts dedicated to US, European and Chilean researchers, but there is also some observing time that is “open skies.” That means anyone can apply for that access time. And I mean anyone. You, me, and anyone else on the planet could submit a proposal for observing time. What’s more, you wouldn’t have to pay for that time. If your proposal is approved, you only pay for travel and lodging.

Now it’s true that proposals are extremely competitive, and you would need to have a great deal of skill to make a winning proposal. But you don’t need a degree, nor a university position. These telescopes truly are accessible to the public.

The same is true with the data gathered. In some cases there is a period where a team with observing time gets exclusive access to the data, but eventually it goes into the public domain. Anyone can access it for free. It’s not often in the most user friendly format, but it is available.

New telescopes such as the Large Synoptic Survey Telescope being built near Gemini South take that approach even more seriously, with plans shift away from dedicated observing time and towards immediate release of data to the public. Professional and amateur astronomers alike will have the same access to the data. LSST and other projects become a human endeavor rather.

After all, we all share the same sky, so why not share the same data?

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Yesterday we arrived at the Atacama region of Chile, and are staying in the small town of San Pedro. Atacama is perhaps the driest region in the world, and San Pedro is at an elevation of about 8,000 feet. That combination can be quite a punch. Fortunately we’ve been at a similar elevation the past couple of days at CTIO, so that isn’t too bad. The arid air, however, is a different story. Hydration is key at this point.

While Cerro Tololo had an almost overwhelming beauty to it, Atacama is a bit different. Magnificent desolation, to paraphrase Buzz Aldrin. But the arid and high conditions of the region are exactly why ALMA is here.

But that’s a story for tomorrow. For now it’s time to have a bit more water, and get some sleep.

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Astronomy requires dark and clear skies, and that often means you need to build telescopes in remote places such as Cerro Tololo, where we have been staying the past couple days. While it’s dark skies that brings us to Cerro Tololo, it as also a region of profound beauty. It is a land so wondrous that I feel inadequate to the task of describing it.

With the altitude, the days are often sunny and brilliant, and it’s important to limit direct exposure to the Sun. But twilight comes with a cool breeze and a fall of colors. This is a desert mountain range, so the mountains fade into the haze and are painted by the falling Sun. The sky is brilliant blue during the day, and at twilight darkens to a deep blue before yielding to the night.

Then the stars come out, tentative at first, then gathering to a sparkling sea. The Milky Way is high overhead in Winter, and is mingled with dark clouds. The stars are clear and close, and it’s hard to take it all in.

The should have sent a poet, but they sent me instead. And I’m very glad they did.

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It’s 12:30 am as I write this. The day starting with meetings at AURA, and a tour of some of the facilities. After that long day we went to Cerro Mayu observatory to observe the southern sky. It was the first time I got to see Alpha Centauri and the Southern Cross with my own eyes. While I’m somewhat familiar with the southern constellations from drawings, drawings don’t give you a sense of their actual scale in the night sky. The experience was a combination of familiarity and strangeness.

And therein lies one of the struggles with writing about my trip at the moment. There is a lot to process, and little time to really capture these experiences in words. Certainly not clear and well written words. I’m experiencing so much, so quickly, that it is almost like sipping from a fire hose.

Later today we visit Gemini, which is at about 8,000 feet. Afterwards we’ll go to CTIO and spend the next couple nights up on the mountain. And then onward to more. It’s a lot to take in, and so many experiences combined with a bit of sleep deprivation gives you an almost otherworldly experience. As one of my fellow ambassadors said, it feels like moving through a dream.

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Neil Armstrong didn’t go to the Moon. He was sent to the Moon by a skilled and hardworking team known as NASA. Armstrong wasn’t just along for the ride, but he didn’t do it alone. We don’t remember most of the NASA team, but we do remember Armstrong.

The same is true with modern big science. We read about the results, and we might see a quote or two from the primary scientists, but there’s an entire team that makes the scientific findings possible. We remember the show, but not the team behind the curtain.

We can now observe planets forming around other stars. Data gathered at ALMA, and funded by NSF.

Take, for example, the Atacama Large Millimeter/submillimeter Array (ALMA). It currently has 64 telescopes working together to study the sky at microwave wavelengths. It’s done some amazing work so far, and it will continue to do amazing work for at least the next 30 years. ALMA is only possible through a collaboration between Europe, the United States and Japan. Each of these have a corresponding research organization (ESO, NRAO, and NAOJ), and each of these organizations are funded through different governmental institutions. In the case of the U.S. it’s the National Science Foundation (NSF), the same institution that’s funded my trip to Chile.

There are hundreds of people working directly at ALMA. That doesn’t count those that coordinate behind the scenes, including the U.S. Embassy in Chile. Large science projects such as ALMA require both financial and political power to make it happen, and it’s only possible through international collaborations. If you’ve ever served on a committee at work you’ll understand just how amazing these big science collaborations actually are.

But the vast majority of people supporting ALMA and it’s science will never be mentioned in a press release, nor interviewed regarding their contribution to science. But their work behind the curtain is absolutely necessary. Without them, ALMA and other big projects like it wouldn’t be possible.

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