83
of La Palma. They transported their instruments to the summit by mule and
set up tents for the campaign.
I wanted to take a look for myself at the summits of that island, where there
was not yet any light pollution; I had always thought, given their altitude and
location, that they should possess astronomical conditions very similar to
those measured at Teide Observatory, so in the summer of 1973 I organized a
trip to the summits of the Caldera de Taburiente and encouraged my elder
son, Jorge, then a boy of eleven, to accompany me. A car provided by the La
Palma Cabildo ferried us to the end of a forest road and deposited us near Pico
de Las Nieves. We climbed to the summit as best we could, leaving behind
shreds of clothing and skin among the thickets of low codeso (laburnum). We
pitched a mini-tent that I had bought for Jorge in France and prepared supper
on the edge of the caldera, the dark chasm yawning at our feet. We were completely isolated, floating between land and sky, with the firmament pressing
down on us. We were a for long time enraptured and overwhelmed before the
beauty and unsettling mystery that enveloped us. That sky filled with still,
unblinking stars was evident proof of the astronomical quality of the peaks of
La Palma. It was wonderful. Was it then that Jorge discovered his strong astronomical vocation, or had the seed already long ago been planted in his subconscious when he was a very little boy and tried to play with the astronomical
site-testing instruments in Izaña?
In the morning the caldera was bright in its splendour, with its unfathomable gorges, separated by sharp crests covered in pines that looked just like
bushes in the distance. A sea of clouds was beginning to cover the depths of
the caldera, looking like steam from a seething, gigantic cauldron. We had a
bite to eat and left for Roque de los Muchachos, which loomed in the distance. We continued along the rim of the Caldera de Taburiente, slowly crossing successive peaks, climbing and descending along the edges of precipices
with sheer drops of up to a thousand metres. It was exhilarating. We stopped
to eat on the way near the Pared de Roberto (Roberto’s Wall), a huge basaltic
dyke, a Cyclopean wall with a narrow pass, through which ran a path. We
reached the JOSO solar physicists’ camp close by Roque de los Muchachos in
the afternoon. We enjoyed a friendly supper together. They were happy with
the data they had been accumulating and told us in detail what they had been
doing. Next day, we went down to Puntagorda with the mule drivers, who
had brought up victuals.
As a consequence of the good results obtained by the JOSO expedition, the
Fraunhofer Institute at Freiburg and the University of Göttingen made a formal application to carry out site-testing campaigns in Tenerife and La Palma,
10 A Multinational Astrophysics Treaty (1960–2014)
of La Palma. They transported their instruments to the summit by mule and
set up tents for the campaign.
I wanted to take a look for myself at the summits of that island, where there
was not yet any light pollution; I had always thought, given their altitude and
location, that they should possess astronomical conditions very similar to
those measured at Teide Observatory, so in the summer of 1973 I organized a
trip to the summits of the Caldera de Taburiente and encouraged my elder
son, Jorge, then a boy of eleven, to accompany me. A car provided by the La
Palma Cabildo ferried us to the end of a forest road and deposited us near Pico
de Las Nieves. We climbed to the summit as best we could, leaving behind
shreds of clothing and skin among the thickets of low codeso (laburnum). We
pitched a mini-tent that I had bought for Jorge in France and prepared supper
on the edge of the caldera, the dark chasm yawning at our feet. We were completely isolated, floating between land and sky, with the firmament pressing
down on us. We were a for long time enraptured and overwhelmed before the
beauty and unsettling mystery that enveloped us. That sky filled with still,
unblinking stars was evident proof of the astronomical quality of the peaks of
La Palma. It was wonderful. Was it then that Jorge discovered his strong astronomical vocation, or had the seed already long ago been planted in his subconscious when he was a very little boy and tried to play with the astronomical
site-testing instruments in Izaña?
In the morning the caldera was bright in its splendour, with its unfathomable gorges, separated by sharp crests covered in pines that looked just like
bushes in the distance. A sea of clouds was beginning to cover the depths of
the caldera, looking like steam from a seething, gigantic cauldron. We had a
bite to eat and left for Roque de los Muchachos, which loomed in the distance. We continued along the rim of the Caldera de Taburiente, slowly crossing successive peaks, climbing and descending along the edges of precipices
with sheer drops of up to a thousand metres. It was exhilarating. We stopped
to eat on the way near the Pared de Roberto (Roberto’s Wall), a huge basaltic
dyke, a Cyclopean wall with a narrow pass, through which ran a path. We
reached the JOSO solar physicists’ camp close by Roque de los Muchachos in
the afternoon. We enjoyed a friendly supper together. They were happy with
the data they had been accumulating and told us in detail what they had been
doing. Next day, we went down to Puntagorda with the mule drivers, who
had brought up victuals.
As a consequence of the good results obtained by the JOSO expedition, the
Fraunhofer Institute at Freiburg and the University of Göttingen made a formal application to carry out site-testing campaigns in Tenerife and La Palma,
10 A Multinational Astrophysics Treaty (1960–2014)