Yesterday at 5:50pm I stood in our driveway in San Diego. It was a warm, dry day, late dusk. The southwestern sky was still light, but the northeast was dark. Cygnus overhead. Venus and Jupiter close together, Venus as bright as a search light.
Then, a hand’s width to the right of Venus, there was a small, reddish dot that moved toward me faster than a jetplane at cruising altitude. As the seconds ticked away, the dot got brighter and brighter. When it was overhead, traversing Cygnus, it was as bright as Venus.
It was the International Space Station, docked with the Space Shuttle Endeavor.
I marveled. 200 miles above my head, there are human beings inside the thin aluminum skin that makes up the space station, traveling at 17,000 miles per hour, no doubt looking down on the terminus (the line between light and dark) on earth, with the lights of Los Angeles and San Diego below them, and Las Vegas coming up ahead, dazzling.
Soon the bright shooting star was overhead and slowly getting dimmer, and within the course of about 10 seconds it faded into the blackness of the northwestern sky, seemingly winking out of existence. Of course, from onboard, the astronauts would have just seen the sun set over the Pacific, one second it was there, the next it was gone.
Tomorrow, Friday, at 5:06pm, I will be able to see the space station again, this time Endeavor will have undocked, and I should be able to see two bright shooting stars next to each other, floating, at 17,000 miles per hour. Since it will still be light outside, it will be a different kind of picture.
And I will marvel again.
[For another cool picture, check this old post]
Yesterday marked the 10th anniversary of the launch of the first module to become the International Space Station, the largest man-made structure in space. But it is still incomplete, with another four pressurised modules yet to be added to