When Pluto was downgraded to a dwarf planet, I bought a T-shirt that read “Pluto: 1930-2006: Revolve in Peace.” You’ll be happy to read that I only wore it once. No one thought it was as cool as I did.
I’ve long had an affinity for the former planet, likely because of the name and learning as a kid that it was the farthest in our solar system (usually, occasionally it orbits inside of Neptune). Still, it’s a true underdog.
So last week, when the unmanned space probe New Horizons buzzed by Pluto, I was more excited than most. The probe launched in early 2006, and for it to travel for more than nine years and more than 3 billion miles and to be almost universally considered a success is as mind-boggling as space itself.
NASA has had a series of triumphs since it shuttered its manned space shuttle program four years ago. In the summer of 2012, Curiosity, a robotic rover about the size of a car, landed on Mars to explore the climate and geology on the Gale Crater. As Forbes contributor Peter Diamandis pointed out at the time, only about 33 percent of “Mars lander missions have succeeded, and this landing was particular complicated.” A lot can go wrong when a 1-ton robot needs to slow from 13,000 miles per hour to 1 mile per hour and land on another planet. But little did.
Yes, the U.S. space program is on a bit of a roll, and, after years of criticism, has rebranded itself as reliable, accessible and even personable. On its latest missions, NASA’s New Horizons probe is carrying the ashes of a man who requested his remains be launched into space.
Not just any man, Clyde Tombaugh discovered Pluto in 1930 and, before he died in 1997 (when his discovery was still considered a planet), he made an incredible request. And NASA fulfilled it.
Tombaugh grew up on a family farm in Illinois and was attracted to astronomy at a young age. He built his first telescope in 1926, taught astronomy at New Mexico State University and made his most famous discovery in 1930.
On the canister in which New Horizons carries Tombaugh’s ashes is an inscription written by Alan Stern, head of the mission. It reads, in part: “Interned herein are remains of American Clyde W. Tombaugh, discoverer of Pluto and the solar system’s ‘third zone.’”
“My Dad always said if he ever had the chance, he’d love to visit the planets in the solar system and around other stars,” Tombaugh’s daughter, Annette, told NASA. She was on hand at mission headquarters last week as New Horizons fulfilled part of her father’s wish.
We’re lucky to live in a relatively rural area where we can still look up to a dark sky and see distant stars and planets and, occasionally, the Northern Lights. It’s good to feel small and curious and appreciate what’s beyond our reach.
John Ashley, who we interview in this week’s Beacon, appreciates this, too. The photographer, biologist and seasonal researcher has documented the night sky above Glacier National Park for three decades.
He wants to keep it dark and keep the Andromeda Galaxy, which is about 2.5 million light years away, visible from this small corner of the Earth. The National Park Service is already working with its Canadian counterparts to designate Glacier and Waterton parks as the first international transboundary dark sky preserve.
Like the New Horizons mission, it’s a worthy cause. Enough to dust off an old T-shirt honoring a former planet few thought we would ever reach.