in the Republic of Georgia
8th June 2004
The climb to the Georgian National Observatory at Abastumani is awesome – half an hour of winding, twisting hairpin bends in a 4 x 4 Landcruiser through a mixed deciduous and pine forest that is home to bears and timber wolves. The top of the mountain (I think about 6000 feet above sea level) has the appearance of a volcanic caldera in which nestles about a dozen world class telescopes beginning with a 1930s 400mm German refractor to a bunch of reflecting telescopes each in excess of 1 meter diameter via a radio telescope array. I was only able to see about half of these, the site is so large. How many astronomers are there? NIL! Zero! The site is mothballed. One of the security men for the company I work for (BP) has a doctorate in astrophysics and 8 years research at the Abastumani observatory. This is not uncommon. The 5 million Georgians are an amazing people, highly educated, largely Christian and located at the crossroads of Europe and Asia on the old silk road. The country is a paradise of mountains, forests, old castles, almond and peach trees and famous for its honey, grapes and wine. Tea used to be grown here but like the telescopes the bushes have recently been abandoned. The whole of the country’s infra-structure including the observatory is mothballed due to lack of money. Recently, Georgia pulled out of the USSR and lost its financial base.
Up in the mountains of Abastumani on the morning of the transit, I was the only astronomer on site, armed with a £45 solar scope and a friend’s digital camera – mine had been left on a departing vehicle by accident the night before! Mischa, the security man who looks after the site, indicated that the best place to set up the ‘scope would be on the upper balcony of a 1.25 meter telescope – which would give full view of the transit un-impeded by trees. The sky at this time lived up to its reputation for clarity. The forecast indicated 100% cloud, but the thin mountain air was crystal clear! Being so far south meant that the sun at the start of the transit was located much like an 11 am sun in June in Ireland. Then, at 10 past the hour, with nine minutes to go before first contact, high cloud appeared. At first contact we had 100% cloud cover – the accuweather forecast was accurate. However, holes appeared in the cloud and I was able to take photos of the venus transit by timing manual alignment of the scope with approaching holes in the cloud then priming the camera and snapping away furiously. After seeing the last mercury transit, I was surprised at how big the planet was on the face of the sun – also it did not move across the sun in a straight line as expected but over the 6+ hours of viewing through holes in the cloud it performed a little dance, moving into the middle of the sun and exiting the same edge. Suddenly the wonders of relative elliptical motions and viewing from a rotating frame of reference became a reality. Towards the end of the observation, the sun was vertical above the telescope and finding somewhere to place the camera was near impossible. If anyone is contemplating watching the solar eclipse in Turkey in a couple of years, note well the problems of moving telescopes and cameras through the zenith! But do not let this put you off! My thanks are extended to Mischa and the Observatory for enabling me to use the facilities (I stayed over night at the Observatory for a fee of 15 Gel (about £3.50).
In the evening one of Mischa’s friends invited me for dinner and we spoke (with his children translating) about the beauty of the forest where he lives – in the shadow of some very fine instruments. I intend on my return to Georgia in a few days to speak to the director of the observatory to see if we can in some way help to restore the observatory back to its full potential and perhaps enable amateurs and professionals to use the fine instruments which are sitting idle at present in need of some loving attention. Fancy a night with clear, dark skies and a big MakCas?
Clear skies!
Les Gornall
