Last summer, I and many others around the world watched in horror as wildfires burned nearly a third of the town of Jasper, Alberta, and incinerated about 150 square miles of nearby Jasper National Park. Although I now live and work in Tucson, Ariz., the disaster still felt personal to me: Jasper is part of a dark-sky sanctuary I helped create in the Canadian Rockies, where my wife and I spent nine years building a stargazing tour company and planetarium. . .
The disastrous convergence of two separate wildfires in Jasper in late July resulted in 300-foot-tall blazes of pine cones and embers ahead of the fire, with some parts of the fire. creating lightning and down currents as you move, everything speeds up the inferno of hell.
An estimated 25,000 people fled the area before the blaze broke out, and one firefighter died fighting it. Unlike some, our business survived, but not unscathed: the smoke damaged our telescopes and other equipment. Estimated insurance claims for fire-related damage to the park could eventually exceed C$1 billion.
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However, while this event is inauspicious, it foreshadows the potential for greater damage and disruption. Like them grow in number and intensity In recent years, fires have become an increasing threat our ability to see and study the sky. If we don’t find solutions soon, such fires could usurp light pollution as the biggest threat to astronomical observation. Many cherished views of the cosmos can figuratively go up in flames.
On a mountaintop in Arizona’s Sonoran Desert, a fire-blackened dead oak tree stands ten feet from a bedroom at Kitt Peak National Observatory, where I currently serve as director of visitor center operations. The learned tree is a reminder of how close an earlier disaster came. In June 2022, a lightning strike ignited a fire that swept through the area, destroying four non-science buildings and bringing the mountain’s 22 main research telescopes within dozens of meters.
Days after this summer’s tragedy in Jasper, another wildfire forced pre-evacuation preparations on Kitt Peak, with tarps ready to cover telescopes and protective equipment.
The the problem is worse and worse and it is far from being the only one of these sites. Fires have already destroyed several large telescopes at Australia’s Mount Stromlo observatory. And in 2020, California’s Sierra Remote Observatory came close to destruction after a fire covered the telescopes’ optics there in ash and debris.
Astronomical observatories—remote research sites or desert tourist destinations—are located at the intersection of natural isolation and wildfire risk. Unfortunately, the places that today offer some of the clearest and most accessible views of the universe are more vulnerable than ever to the effects of climate change.
Even when wildfires do not directly threaten observatories, they are threatening astronomical research and public outreach.
Two years ago, I was with my staff at a stargazing event at the top of the Jasper SkyTram during the 2022 fire season, looking down the valley at the fire on the edge of Jasper Lake, 15 miles away. Although it never reached the town of Jasper, smoke from that fire occasionally marred views of the sky at the Jasper Planetarium for several weeks. Native to Alberta, British Columbia, California and other regions. the smoke from such fires it can travel far away even thousands of kilometers away to obliterate the stars.
Meteorologist Alan Rahill, whose Clear Sky Chart is a reliable planning tool for astronomical observers, recently bemoaned a gloomy forecast to me: “By the second half of this century, we will see no blue skies between March and December. Clear nights will be quite rare.’
However, there is hope for those willing to try and adapt. Both professional and amateur astronomy organizations are finding ways to protect against fires, their causes and effects:
Kitt Peak is installing specialized detectors on the mountain to provide early warnings of lightning, and has partnered with a local alliance of firefighters, naturalists, ranchers and others on a master plan to deal with future emergencies.
The Lowell Observatory in Flagstaff is working with local authorities on strategic prescribed burns and fire breaks to protect its grounds, and the Griffith Observatory in LA has upgraded fire suppression systems and building materials.
At the Jasper Planetarium (reopened after the summer fire), we’ve added a radio telescope capable of peering through the dark, providing live radio maps of distant galaxies.
Solving the underlying problem, however, will require more effort than adapting to the “new normal” of more—and more intense—fires.
Science communicator, astronomy enthusiast and Order of Canada recipient Bob McDonald told me: “The increase in wildfires and droughts around the world is a sign that climate change is not a problem for future generations. It’s in our face, here and now.”
In his latest book the future is now McDonald says that the restrictions during the COVID era were very encouraging that we have the tools to reverse the effects of anthropogenic climate change, using a mix of alternative energy, carbon capture and energy storage. “The smoke is a clear signal that it’s time to get on with it and clear our skies, not just for astronomy, but for human health,” McDonald told me.
Will it be enough for many people to act if a fire destroys another observatory? I hope so. Will more people notice if some astronomical research is not possible because the sky above some telescopes is too choked with smoke? Maybe But I fear the wake-up call will come too late, when nature lovers look up at a summer sky full of ash instead of stars and wonder, “What happened?”
This is an opinion and analysis article, and the views expressed by the author(s) are not necessarily their own. American scientific
