Texas Star Party — Emile Holba

The ‘Sky Island’ Davis Mountains of West Texas boast some of the darkest skies in the contiguous United States, stretching over 5,000 feet above sea level. Remote, desolate plains are framed by towering pale blue skies, separated only by occasional ranch boundary fences, semi-arid rock beds, lonely cacti, and creaky-sounding Aeromotor windmills. These features reinforce the feeling that little has changed in the bleached landscape since Texas became the 28th state of the Union in 1845. By then, most national land disputes had been settled, and many isolated military outposts had been abandoned.

As the fledgling USA began to develop its imperial expansion, the subsequent oil fever that swept through Texas after Antun Lucas struck gold at Spindletop led to enormous profiteering through 20th-century pumpjacks and modern hydraulic fracturing facilities.

This man-made bonanza is notably absent on the sky island, as are any significant population centres. The Yates Oil Field, the only major man-made structure in West Texas, is located over 150 miles east, providing near-zero light pollution and particularly inky black night skies.

This perfect location makes the Davis Mountains an ideal spot for studying the cosmos, and they also host the annual Texas Star Party.

“A still more glorious dawn awaits, not of sunrise, but a galaxy rise. A morning filled with 400 hundred billion suns, the rising of the Milky Way. An enormous spiral form with collapsing gas clouds, condensing planetary systems, luminous super giants, stable middle aged stars, red giants, white dwarfs, planetary nebulas, supernovas, neutron stars, pulsars, black holes. And, there is every reason to think, other exotic objects that we’ve not yet discovered.”

Galaxy Rise by Carl Sagan

The Texas Star Party, founded by Deborah Byrd, is one of the world’s oldest and most well-established star parties. In 1979, Byrd, along with over 50 stargazing enthusiasts, gathered at the McDonald Observatory for a weekend of observing. The camaraderie formed during that weekend led to the creation of an annual weekly residence at Prude Ranch in 1982 by Byrd, along with David Clark, George Ellis, and Don Garland.

Over the years, the Texas Star Party has grown to become one of the largest meetings of amateur astronomers in North America. It is now the world’s most respected gathering of like-minded visual observers and image makers, all dedicated to pursuing a deeper understanding of the universe and the complex questions that arise from their findings.

I arrived at the Texas Star Party in the dead of night, navigating through road closures and long detours caused by a large wildfire disrupting life in the Davis Mountains. Eager to witness the arrival of the Texas Star Party signatories, I had arrived a day early, but with finishing touches still being made to the site and an overcast night, I was thoroughly disoriented by the darkness.

In exceptionally remote regions of the world, the nightly absence of light is uncommon. One must recalibrate their night vision and adjust their perception of distance. Respecting the Texas Star Party’s strict no-light-at-night policy (the importance of a red filter cannot be overstated), I stumbled to a clearing and pitched my tent.

A few years ago, I ventured into the captivating realm of astronomy when I crafted a photostory and BBC Radio 4 series about the community that works and lives around the Green Bank Telescope in West Virginia called Welcome to the Quiet Zone. Beyond being awestruck by the monumental engineering marvel that is the GBT, with mind-boggling statistics such as the world’s largest movable land object, I was equally captivated by the meticulously enforced environment-specific rules that ensure astronomers conduct sound and precise science.

For instance, only diesel-powered vehicles are permitted on-site because they don’t have spark plugs. Radio Frequency Interference (RFi) is generated during the microseconds when the spark occurs at the spark plug gap, resulting in high-frequency bursts of energy that cause static and interference in radios, televisions, telephones, and other sensitive electronic devices, particularly the GBT.

Adherence to precise rules is strictly adhered to at the TSP, although not solely to combat RFi, but to minimise stray light. A refined and meticulously practised ‘blackout’ environment is highly valued within the boundaries of Prude Ranch. This collective obsession aims to provide participants with a unique opportunity to fully ‘dark-adapt’ and maintain this state while observing under the dark skies, with the rare exception of rain lifting the light pollution curfew. A representative example of these light pollution regulations can be found in TSP’s ‘Computer & Display Rules’: ‘display screens must be used at extremely low intensity (0.10 lux when measured 22 inches from the centre of the screen displaying a black star map)’.

The site’s orientation was straightforward, with the TSP divided into three distinct areas: the Lower, Middle, and Upper Fields. Each mini-site was equipped with enough power lines to meet the energy requirements of its area. The ample space provided for participants’ telescope equipment, storage, and daytime relaxation fostered a sense of community and camaraderie among attendees. Life at TSP quickly gels with old friendships recounting previous years’ observing achievements and embracing new people into the stargazing fold.

Attendance at TSP is limited to just 300 people, making advance registration essential. Most attendees come from across the United States, while a few travel from far and wide, including the United Kingdom (like myself) and a group of Australians who arrived in a minivan adorned with a giant, bright yellow inflatable kangaroo that they dragged through all connecting flights from Sydney to El Paso!

As groups form, long-term TSP regulars congregate at designated spots, such as the Shade Tree Gang, who hang out on Middle Field. However, beneath the surface, subtle rivalries and apparent fierce competition emerge, not only among attendees but also between the different fields.

A closer examination reveals a more significant distinction among TSP members: whether they are Observers or Imagers. As the night unfolds, one discovers that the study of the cosmos is divided into two distinct communities: Visual Astronomers, who observe distant objects through an eyepiece attached to a telescope, and Astrophotographers, who capture images of celestial objects using a camera or lens attached to a telescope or lens.

Throughout the first 24 hours of TSP, a bewildering array of equipment and technology is unpacked from U-Haul trailers, RVs, and enormous fifth wheelers. Time is taken to securely anchor the extensive range of precise instruments and paraphernalia into the bone-dry dirt, as extremely strong, unpredictable, and disruptive dust devils repeatedly rip through the ranch during the seven-day event.

As this gadgetry is assembled, distinct visual cues emerge that indicate whether you are entering an observer’s or imager’s domain. Observers stand proudly beside their imposing Dobsonian-type telescopes, while imagers remain ‘out of sight’, hunched over red-filtered computer screens concealed within gazebos and under tarp covers.

A smaller, more secretive group of astronomers ventures into both disciplines. One member remarked, “We work both sides of the streets and are hated by both.” This unique approach culminates in an incredibly intense week of data gathering and investigation.

During TSP, numerous seminars, lectures, astronomy programs, and discussions are held that enhance observing skills and deepen our understanding of the cosmos. Guest speakers inspire their audience, while experienced peers provide valuable insights for newcomers to build confidence. As a newcomer myself, I had the privilege of conducting my first observation of Jupiter through a substantial-sized Dobsonian telescope. The view was mesmerisingly clear.

I also ventured into the night sky for the first time and captured a few frames (featured in this gallery). Additionally, I was astounded by the remarkable resolving power of a high-quality pair of binoculars, which effectively separated nearby star clusters and ignited my imagination of the interstellar realm.

As the scorching heat of each day gradually dissipated, a new energy emerged at sundown – the electrifying excitement radiating from all attendees of the Texas Star Party. They donned warmer clothing and settled in for a night of stargazing, their anticipation palpable. The moon rose, followed by the awe-inspiring arrival of the Milky Way, aptly described as the ‘great windscreen wiper in the sky,’ around 03:00 am. These celestial events unveiled the luminous canvas of time in extraordinary detail against the dark West Texan hemisphere, captivating my senses and leaving me in awe.

It’s rare for an event to have a main-belt asteroid named after it ‘4932 Texstapa’ but the Texas Star Party is full of surprises for the inquisitive mind. Attendees excelled in extensive studies of the Moon, Planets, Deep Sky, Solar, Deep Space, and Milky Way. TSP is well-organised, respectful, and superbly resourced – I felt privileged to be in their company for a brief moment in time.

Addendum: Amateurs are the ‘canary in the mine’ for light pollution.

Visiting the Davis Mountains reminded me of the importance of natural darkness at night. Over 3.5 billion years, life on Earth has relied on the uninterrupted transition from day to night, a cycle deeply ingrained in the DNA of all evolution. However, the industrial revolution and its rapid acceleration fuelled by the discovery of oil disrupted this life-enriching harmony. Decades of research have demonstrated the profound impact of light pollution on wildlife’s well-being and human health (both physical and mental). As the majority of the world’s population now resides and works in highly urbanised environments, humans are increasingly unaware of the long-term detrimental effects of light pollution.

The Texas Star Party chose the Davis Mountains as its base 40 years ago precisely because of its exceptionally dark night sky. However, with the ongoing expansion of commercial facilities to provide power to metropolitan areas, I wonder how long it can continue to observe under such pristine skies.

After a few nights of observing, I sensed a growing concern among the more advanced astronomers about a faint source of light encroaching on their view. Initially puzzled, I embarked on a local inquiry, which revealed a worrisome prospect: an oil fracking prospecting company was setting up testing areas, despite being miles away. Their light emissions were enough to contaminate the more precise observations.

Perhaps the carbon economy unleashed at Spindletop in East Texas may, a century later, ruin one of West Texas’s finest and most valuable natural wonders.

For more information about the Texas Star Party and organisations that advocate for the benefits of truly dark skies, explore the cosmos further:

https://texasstarparty.org
https://darksky.org
https://mcdonald.utexas.edu
https://earthsky.org
https://www.astroleague.org