I’m currently on a business trip in Namibia, but on the way here, I had a six hour layover in Frankfurt, which is just enough time to hop the train downtown (S8 or S9 to Hauptewache, about 4.50€, which seemed a bit pricey). From there, it’s a fifteen minute walk through an historic area and then across the Main River to the museum district. Just past the world cultural museum, a few tempting antennae loom over the Museum für Kommunikation.
Those antennas are right above the ham radio station located in the museum, Funkstation DL0DPM. Unfortunately, my plane landed just about the time the station was closing for the day and I wasn’t able to visit the ham station, but I’ll put in on the itinerary for the next time I find myself in Frankfurt.
The permanent collection of the museum is on the lower level, while the upper floors are dedicated to rotating exhibits. Those exhibits were very family-friendly and were labelled in both German and English. Most concerned some aspect of media, although one explored number sequences. My main interest, though was in the permanent collection, which focuses on the PTT service (post telephone and telegraph, not push-to-talk).
One side of the collection is dedicated to the postal system and includes a number of postal wagons and cars, stamps, mailboxes, and so on. Another area focuses on the phone system and includes working demonstrations from several eras, with phones connected to switching racks. When you dial another phone, you can see the mechanical relays in the central exchange spinning and clicking to route the call.
My main interest, of course, was the radio equipment. Their collection does not focus on amateur radio equipment, but on commercial and consumer equipment. They have quite a collection of very early radios, including some developed for telegraphy. Most were commercial units from the 20s onward, including a good collection of war time radios including those in the Volksempfänger series. The radio collection includes some beautifully styled cabinets, both in wood and later materials like bakelite.
Next to the radio equipment is an exhibit of television equipment, which I found at least as interesting as the radio equipment. In particular, they had an impressive collection of very early mechanical television gear. One item that attracted my attention was a helix composed of many thin, long mirror pieces, arranged like a stair case, with the mirrored surface facing outward. It was mounted on a motor and some other control gearing. This device was descriptively labeled “Spiegelschrauben” (mirror screw). It took me a while to get through museum’s description of the device, as descriptions in this part of the museum were written only in German. The bottom line is that this device provided the raster scan for an early television receiver by the company TeKaDa (from die Süddeutsche Telefon- Apparate-, Kabel- und Drahtwerke A.G — which through a series of corporate mergers and acquisitions eventually was acquired by AT&T, now Lucent Technologies). At the time, work was also progressing on cathode ray tubes, but it was difficult to manufacture tubes with a large surface area and to produce as bright an image on a CRT. Peter Yanczer’s website has a good description. The museum has a number of other early television devices including parts from a Nipkow disc system and Vladimir Zworkin’s iconoscope.
A significant part of the display is given over to telegraphy, both cable and radio. A full high-power spark gap station set into a luxurious wooden desk with porcelain insulators, bright copper coils and brass fittings was a real work of art. However, I did note that the key was not far from some very high voltage junctions (for that matter, the contacts on the key itself probably had a few hundred volts running through them. Operator, beware). Of course, there were obligatory displays on Marconi and the Titanic. A lot of the exhibit was given over to commercial telegraphy, both for railway and general communication. Aside from keys, thumpers, and ticker tape units, there were a number of inventions that would either take telegraph key or keyboard input and transmit a message along a wire. These were not quite teletypes; the message would display letter by letter, usually with a mechanical pointer.
On the way to the museum, I passed an “SWR” van.
Extending from the telegraph exhibit were collections on radio and landline teletype as well as facsimile machines. One corner is also devoted to the enigma machines of World War II, which includes mention of the work done at Bletchley Park. I had expected to find some Feld Hellscreiber equipment, but I did not see one in the museum’s collection.
The museum is well worth the 3€ price of admission, and if I’m in town again earlier in the day, I’d like to stop in on the amateur station.
As for Namibia, this conference came up quickly. I did make an attempt to contact some hams in Namibia and their IARU affiliate, but was unsuccessful. I’m sure I’ll be back here at some point and with more lead time, so hopefully I’ll get on the air on the next trip.
First, some general comments. Since the French mini-comp was not held last year, the four games submitted represent two years of production, 2012-2013. Although my French is not as good as it might be having lived a couple years in the francophone part of Belgium, I enjoyed playing through the games. The limited domain for word choice and grammatical constraints of the parser worked to my advantage.
There were two themes for this mini-comp, Africa and Female Protagonists. Authors could implement either one in whatever way they thought fit. Three went for Female Protagonist, and one for both themes (well, a female Zebra counts, right?).
Also, somehow, in downloading the games for the competition, I also grabbed “Ma princesse adorée”, by Hugo “Mule Hollandaise” Labrande, which doesn’t fit either of these categories. I think it might have been incorrectly linked to an article that pointed to the contest, or perhaps I just clicked on the wrong spot; in any event, I enjoyed playing it as well, and include a review at the end of this entry.
I will make a few general and non-spoilery observations about these works. First, it is notable that two of the games did not adopt the standard person and tense: Trac is set in the present tense, but third person. In playing that game, I noted that there was still a me/you axis between the parser (“I’m not familiar with that verb”) and the player (“Do you want to play again?”). Noir d’encre employs first person and past tense, which must have involved some significant effort in modifying the parser responses. The only quibble I have with that arrangement is that –and I don’t think it’s a spoiler for this horror genre story– some of the outcomes involve the presumed death of the main character. Who, then, is recounting the story?
Second, all of these games seem to be serious works in the sense that they were not just dashed off and sent into the competition. All of them seem to have been thoroughly proofed (although there could, I suppose, be huge errors in the French, to which I might be oblivious) and beta-tested for playability.
Third, aside from Source de Zig, which is a lighter work, I am struck by the amount of text in these text adventures. In Life on Mars, a lot of writing went into creating the emails that provide a solid backstory. In the other works, it seems to me that the amount of detail in descriptions and in responses to player actions is more complete than the more telegraphic style found in many English language works.
Finally, if I’m reading the headers correctly, Life on Mars and La Source de Zig are written in I6, which may be a reflection of the suitability of I7 for developing code in languages other than English.
From here out, there be spoilers…
Continue reading French IF Competition: 2012-2013
The view from Christmas Tree Point at Twin Peaks, just southwest of downtown San Francisco.
This weekend, I attended the GI Cancer Symposium in San Francisco. I had back-to-back meetings from Thursday through Saturday morning, and didn’t see the light of day for half a week. Due to the trip, I missed operating the NAQP SSB with the folks at VWS, but I did get in some VHF operating on Saturday afternoon.
When I was planning the trip, I had more or less written off operating, but then I noticed that this weekend was not only NAQP SSB, but the January ARRL VHF contest. I have only participated in one VHF contest in the past (the June VHF contest), so I wasn’t sure about the level of participation in this contest or how well I would do working portable and QRP, but given great weather and ideal local topology for VHF, I decided the night before I left to pack the FT-817 and some antennas.
The arrow antenna, ready for packing.
On previous trips, I had worked HF from Buena Vista Park, and I knew that there is a bench with a good view of the arc from the Golden Gate Bridge to Oakland. However, the bench is a little off the path, there are trees here and there in the line of sight, and couldn’t think of a good way to mount the antenna. I wanted to travel light, so I wasn’t really keen to pack a tripod. After fiddling with Google Maps for a while, I decided that the observation point at Twin Peaks would be better. Twin Peaks are the second highest point in SF. The highest is point is not far away, Mount Davidson, which supports the Sutro Tower. I didn’t opt for Mount Davidson because I wasn’t sure how accessible it would be and also didn’t think it would be a great idea to operate VHF/UHF right under a giant television tower. From StreetView, I had scoped out the observation point (“Christmas Tree Point”) on Twin Peaks and saw a spot with a low metal railing next to a stone wall. It looked possible to fix the antenna to the fence on a stand-off and put the radio on the stone wall.
I packed a 1×2 piece of wood, a couple screws and a bit of PVC that I had previously used to wind coils. The PVC fit over the wood and became my azimuth rotor. The cut-out in the PVC was about the right size for the central axis of my arrow antenna. When I got to the site, I found that the StreetView was accurate and I dumped the gear at the junction of the wall and fence while it was clear of tourists. Every few minutes, a tour bus would arrive, mostly with foreign tourists, who watched with curiosity as I set up. I stopped a few times to pose for photos with them. I taped the wood to the fence with Gorilla tape, making spacers as needed from cardboard. I screwed some wood screws into the wood a couple inches below the top to prevent the PVC from sliding down. After assembling the arrow antenna, I put it into PVC slot and taped it into position. The radio, battery, mike and log book rested comfortably on the stone wall to the side of the fence, and I started operation on 2m.
Configured for 70cm and pointed at the Golden Gate Bridge.
I was able to pan the antenna more than 180 degrees, starting with the Pacific Ocean to the West of the Golden Gate Bridge, swinging North and then East, panning through downtown San Francisco, Berkeley, Oakland, and then South. I did not hit the Southwest because the top of Twin Peaks was behind me, as well as an antenna installation, mostly microwave. If I were to do this again, I might bring a tripod and climb to the top of Twin Peaks to have 360 degree coverage.
I was surprised that when I tuned around in the weak signal portion of the band (144.050-144.100 CW, 144.2-144.275 USB), that I did not hear stations working a frequency. Even odder, I heard no CW at all. All my contacts on 2m were made right on the SSB calling frequency, 144.2 Mhz. In the June contest, back in Virginia, I had heard a number of station calling on various frequencies, both CW and SSB. I thought it a reasonable chance that some one in San Francisco might be operating FM, so I rotate the antenna for vertical polarization. Again, sweeping from horizon to horizon, listening and calling on standard simplex frequencies (other than the national calling frequency, which is verboten), I didn’t hear any activity.
I tried the same thing on 70cm and contacted about the same number of stations as on two meters. Again, my only contacts were SSB at the calling frequency, 432.1 Mhz. I had to check the contest rules to reassure myself that CW was permitted, and it was — just no one doing it. I am not sure why I had so few contacts on 2m and 70cm despite having what I thought was an excellent location. I can’t say from experience if the January contest is less popular than the June one, or if perhaps there are regional differences in the popularity of the contest, with East-coasters that much more active on these bands.
In the June contest, I had parked my car on a tall parking garage and my antennas were my trunk-mounted 2m/70cm vertical and my mini-Tarheel tuned for 6m. Although these antennas were suboptimal given their limited efficiency and vertical polarization, I had some power behind them: 100W on 2m and 6m, and I believe 50W on 70cm. I had much less power this past week, running 5W, but I assumed that the two mountain-top yagis, would put out comparable EIRP to the mobile rig, albeit in a directional pattern. I assumed that the beam antennas would also be great for scanning the horizon for both strong and weaker signals.
Key: Red is 2 meter, Blue is 70 cm, and Purple is 6 meter.
I noticed that all of the SSB stations SSB sounded strong. This would make more sense if I had been operating FM, but I expected to hear a range of SSB signal strengths from scratchy to booming. I realize that my QRP signal might not have sounded similarly strong to them, but I can’t account for not hearing some stations that were softer, unless my background noise level was higher than I appreciated. I suppose that being on a hill surrounded by other antennas might have had some negative effect on reception, but I don’t think this is the case. I would really doubt that this could affect CW so much that I wouldn’t have heard even one signal. I noted that many of the stations that I did work indicated that they had what I’d consider to be elaborate VHF set ups: large permanent, rotatable antennas, high power, and so on, so I am wondering if these stations are just used to working only strong signal stations.
After a while, I disassembled the arrow antenna and wandered a bit further up the hill towards a pine tree. The night before leaving for SFO, I had made a 6m dipole using the usual formula. I didn’t have time to test it, but just coiled it up and chucked it in my luggage. I threw a couple ropes about 15 feet up in to the tree (about the length of my coax) and suspended the antenna horizontally, roughly east-west so it could be broadside to downtown San Francisco. The computer bag that had contained everything became my seat. Again, I hit a number of stations on 50.125, the CW calling frequency, but only heard a couple more up around 50.135 and 50.140. I was determined to bag at least one CW contact, which I did, KJ6M. I’m not sure if he was in the contest or just scanning by the CW portion of the band, but I’m glad he was listening.
I got excited at one point that I had broken out of local area when one station on 6m indicated a QTH of Nevada. I thought maybe 6 meters was opening up and tried to figure out, with my limited recall of Western US geography, what sort of propagation would land a 6m signal in Nevada. The more I thought about it, the less it made sense, particularly since the station had a W6 call. When I got back to the hotel that evening, it made more sense: Novato, California. Not as far as I had hoped. Nonetheless, I had two contacts at a range typical range: a 6m contact at 143 miles and, more surprisingly, a 2m contact of 137 miles.
Since I got out of my conference around noon and had to go back to the hotel to change, grab a quick bite and collect the radio equipment, I splurged for a cab ride up the mountain because I was concerned about the amount of daylight I’d have for operating. It felt like I was cheating, but this wasn’t a SOTA activation, my time table, and the fact that I have limited familiarity with getting around in San Francisco. As the cab dropped me near the summit, he asked how I’d get down, and I indicated that I’d figure something out. I was sorely tempted to just blend in with a tour bus crown and head back down the mountain, but after plugging away for a few hours, I still had enough light to walk down the mountain (much easier in that direction) and take a bus to Castro, where I was able to hop on one of the Market Street trams, which I rode just about to the front door of my hotel. The $2.00 return trip made me feel better about taking a cab on the outbound leg.
Without the 6m opening, I made a lot fewer contacts in this contest than I had in June. So, plans for future VHF contests? Yes, probably, depending how busy I am in June. Working the contest from Skyline drive and combining a gain antenna with the higher power output from the car’s transceiver sounds like a winning combination.
On Boxing Day, I was getting a little stir-crazy at my in-laws house in Mount Vernon New York, where we are spending most of Christmas Break. After a few frenzied days of presents, trips into New York City, and late night game-playing sessions, everyone was in the mood to crash, read books, and maybe watch some TV.
I was in the mood to play radio, hadn’t brought along any radio equipment. However, it occurred to me that I knew of at least one station within a short drive: the mothership, the radio station of the American Radio Relay League itself, W1AW. I did a quick check on google maps showed it less than 90 minutes away.
I gave ARRL a quick call to make sure that some staff would be there and then pointed the car at Connecticut. I drove though light flurries on the way up — the sort that did not even require windshield wipers, but also the sort that would shut down the government for a week if they were to occur in the DC area, where I usually live. The trip to Newington, CT was uneventful, and as I drove down Main Street, I stopped checking street address numbers when I started to see antenna towers through the tree branches. These are monstrously tall towers like you might find in the middle of the plains states or West Virginia, but more the sort you’d expect in the suburbs. What is remarkable is that each of the towers is chocked full of antennas, some of them really not very high above the lawn.
The W1AW station itself faces Main Street, and the picture was taken almost from the road. Behind the station, there is a parking lot, and behind that is the ARRL administrative office. I parked and headed into the office building, the front portion of which is a large reception area. One side is a display area for ARRL publications, tee-shirts, etc., but there is also a front desk. I signed into the log book at the front desk and was told that if I wanted, I could join a tour and/or operate W1AW.
The day after Christmas, many of the staff took the day off, so it was quiet at HQ, but a volunteer, Jim, took me around to see the place. We started in some offices related to member activities including the outgoing QSL bureau, VEC, and EMCOMM support. We peeked in at various offices related to creating the ARRL publications like QST and QEX: the editorium, the graphics department, and the labs in which product review testing takes place. The product testing room is essentially fully shielded and has a solid wall of test gear. Across from it, there is a more conventional lab with work benches, soldering irons, and typical test gear piled high. Walking through the halls, there were several display cases with all sorts of antique radio and electronic gear, documents related to technical and political milestones in radio, and some of the original Wouff Hong artifacts.
After touring the admin building, we walked across the parking lot and spent some time in W1AW itself. In the foyer area, there is a rotary spark gap generator (not connected to an antenna), and the Old Man’s desk, with vintage gear. There are three modern operating rooms, each with two positions. In the first room, boom-mounted Heil mikes are attached to top-end contesting rigs — $15k+ radios with more knobs, buttons and glowy bits that I knew what to do with. The middle room was also set up for voice operation and perhaps digital, and the room nearest the front of the building had more middle range rigs and was set up for CW. There is also a computer console in the center of the station that controls the automated transmissions. Behind it, there is a wall of rack-mounted equipment including the patch bays that allow RF to be routed from any operation position to any antenna.
When I got back that evening, I took a moment to renew my license. I just took a look at QRZ, and it appears that the renewal has already been processed by the FCC. Looks like I won’t have to think about this again until 2024.
I worked both ends of HF this weekend — the first time I’ve worked 160m with my own call sign. On Saturday night, I spend about four hours on a borrowed dipole to crank out about 50 contacts in the ARRL 160m contest. I was psyched for the contest because myK3 was able to tune my 40m attic dipole for 160m, but on Friday evening I got no (zero!) acknowledgment when I tried to reply to juicy-sounding CQs. I must have been putting out only a few milliwatts. I gave some thought to temporarily modifying my vertical as an inverted L, but with rain and snow, that wasn’t appealing. So, I ended up operating from a friend’s station with a multiband dipole that worked on 160m. Probably not an optimal antenna, but better than the attic. The background buzz was about an S9, so I’m sure I wasn’t hearing everything there was to hear.
On Sunday from about 1 to 5 pm local, I worked the 10m RTTY contest. The was some solar activity and K reached about 4, and contacts became water around 2 pm, when I took a couple hour break. When I came back, I signals jumped back up for a bit before disappearing into the night. I was using my attic 10/17 fan dipole, and for whatever reason, I seemed to have a direct line into Colorado. I also worked Brazil (PP1CZ) and two stations in Chile (CT8/DK9WI and CE3PG) That last call sign was familiar to me: Dino Besomi is the president of the Amateur Radio Club of Chile, and helped me connect with the club when I visited Chile last month.
Between the 10m contest and the 160m contest, I covered most of the contiguous United States:
The Version A circuit laid out in Eagle CAD. Top of board view.
Back in October, I mentioned an open source keyer developed for the ATTINY 45 and requiring only a few components. The source code for the controller and an example schematic were uploaded to a repository. Subsequently, I decided to try my hand at producing a PC board. Rather than try some sort of printer-based method based on toner transfer, I wanted to try going a more professional route and having the PCB run off by a fab. Initially, I thought I’d have to go overseas and wait upwards of a month for my boards to come back, but I found a domestic fab that provides an amazing service for low volume prototype boards: OSH Park.
I had already laid the schematic out in Eagle CAD, which seems to be popular among hobbyists. Most of my components were available in off-the-shelf libraries, but I had to layout the piezo speaker as a custom part (although I started from another similar piezo speaker and just had to modify the dimensions). It took a while to get the hang of laying everything out on the PCB, laying down ground planes, routing the traces, and making the silk screen look nice, but after many hours with online tutorials, it all looked right. I ran some rules checks, and everything reasonable, as far as I could tell.
Next, I shopped around using the online check and quote tools available from a number of popular fab houses. To upload my design, in most cases, I had to send a zip file of the various Gerber layers — top copper, bottom copper, top silk, etc. But, for OSH Park, all I had to do was upload the Eagle board file itself. This makes a lot of sense, as the Gerbers are generated from that file, so all the information is already there in the board file.
The OSH Park site interprets the board file on the fly and provides a rendering of approximately what the board will look like when final. There are a number of options regarding cost, turn around, etc., but I opted to get three copies of my design for about ten dollars by agreeing to have my boards made as part of a larger run to take place in about two weeks from the date of submission. The way OSH Park makes prototype boards affordable is by merging multiple designs into one larger board and then cutting that board apart. Their cost is per square inch, and I had designed my board to be one by two inches — not bad considering that I used all through-hole components and did not go out of my way to pack them tight on the surface of the board. In fact, my design is a little generous in that I give a number of ground connection points, whereas only one is really necessary for the sake of wiring in external components.
The board as rendered immediately after upload at OSH Park.
From the time of submission until the envelope arrived, I was able to track progress of the order, so there was particular excitement on the day that I knew the package would be waiting in my mailbox. When I opened the padded shipping packet up, I found three little purple boards, just about identical to the rendering that was provided when I had uploaded the design.
The front of the board, with components added.
The back side of the board, before I started soldering.
The PC boards are excellent quality, with no alignment issues. The solder mask went where it was supposed to go, all the vias are functional, and the pads take solder well and have no tendency towards lifting. Components went onto the board without any fuss and when powered up, the board worked perfectly, the first time. Having verified that the design works, I’ve shared the board on the OSH Park website.
Now that this seems to be working, one option would be to run off more copies of the boards and do something with them — embedded keyers, stand alone kits, etc., but now that I’ve tried out designing a through hole board, I’m curious how much more compact the design would be with surface mount parts (and how much more difficult it would be to assemble).
My reviews are a little delayed this year (thanks, government shutdown for turning October and November into scheduling train wrecks) and I didn’t get to take every submission on a test drive, but the silver lining is that I can just fire off my comments without worrying about influencing anyone else’s reviews. My comments will be short, as I just jotted a few notes about each work, and now a few weeks after playing them, I tend to only remember the points that really struck me. I didn’t use my scoring rubric from previous years, but I had the same criteria in mind. I would usually rate games according to five categories on a first pass and then adjust the scores before voting based on gestalt after playing all of them. This year, I went with my initial gut rating and used the overall history of IF Comp as a baseline.
These reviews are in the random order of play, up to the point that I hit the November 15th voting deadline. Here’s the pseudo-obligatory line break for propriety and etiquette:
Continue reading IF Comp 2013
I was in Chile this week for a conference on clinical trials in Latin America. I delivered about five talks in three days, but also managed to carve out a few hours to meet with the Radio Club of Chile — more about that in a subsequent post. Today, I had a few hours free before the flight out and decided to explore the city a little before the taxi to the airport would arrive at the hotel.
I had charged the QRP gear during the conference, and I even had an external 2Ah lead acid battery. This time, TSA had decided that it was permitted to take it on the plane. Maybe it helped to label everything I was carrying as “sealed, unspillable, non-spillable, absorbed glass mat, lead-acid battery” and “not lithium”. I even went so far as to write “this is a wheelchair” on my bag, since I know that lead-acid batteries are explicitly permitted in the cabin when the are “part of a wheelchair.”
Ceci n’est pas une pipe.
I headed for the metro system and took the red line from Los Leones to Banqueda, which is just south of the furnicular that runs up the side of Santiago Hill to Santiago Municipal Park. The furnicular has a plaque that advertises that it is the same train that Pope John Paul II took to the top during his trip here. Well, if it’s good enough for the pope…
The furnicular ran smoothly, and we passed the zoological park on the way up. The top of the line is a plaza, which was full of bicyclers, who were taking advantage of the great Spring weather. I exercised some restraint and did not follow the signs pointing “this way to the virgin”, but continued along the trail, towards the antennas that run along the ridge. The biking trail run along the side of the mountain, and followed it for a bit, then turned towards higher ground on dirt trails. I walked to the very top and checked out the antennas, but decided I really didn’t want to pitch my wire antenna anywhere near them.
The huge antennas on top of the hill
I continued on a bit more to the East and found a nice place to plunk down on the side of a hill.
The furnicular parked at the top of the track.
I decided to go with a 15m antenna plus my SLT+ tuner. I pitched the wire into a tree and threw the counterpoise down the hill on the pine needles. I got everything else set up, turned on the radio, and didn’t hear much. The background was just not right. I tried tuning the antenna starting with the suggested inductor setting, but the little red light didn’t change at all. I gave the SLT+ a couple knocks to see if anything was loose, and heard an occasional burst of static.
Of course, I didn’t have tools with me. I almost threw some into the bag, but recalling previous run-ins with TSA, I decided against it. I was, however, able to rip the pocket clip off my pen and use that as a screw driver to open the SLT+. I had suspected that the toroids might have come loose, but when I opened it, I saw that I had already addressed that after the last incident — all were firmly anchored with hot glue. What had happened was that the red antenna banana terminal’s solder lug had rotated and was grounded. I twisted it around, and the noise level went up. As I tuned around, I started hearing signals.
But, my troubles with the SLT+ weren’t over. When I tried to run the antenna this time, the capacitor knob spun freely. If I recall, it had been attached to the underlying polyvaricon shaft with either glue or nail polish. I tried to turn the capacitor from the side using the jaws of an alligator clip, but found it very difficult to do so. I had little choice but to settle for the best match I could get using the inductors, although the loudest settings didn’t correspond well to the suggested settings. I decided to go by the SWR reading on the radio itself. My “feedline” was a piece of BNC-terminated coax only about a half meter long, so as long as the radio could tolerate the impedance mismatch, I figured I’d be okay. I did push the radio when it read “high vSWR”, but was willing to transmit with a few bars on the swr meter. Being less picky let me transmit on both 10m and 15m; it seemed to work on both. The moral of this story: always throw a leatherman into the checked baggage. It may get stolen, but most of the time it won’t.
The broken-off pocket clip from a ballpoint pen served [poorly] as a phillips head screwdriver.
I was extremely relieved when I heard PY1XM, Tom, come back to me on 10m. Up to that point, I thought that I might be skunked on this outing, with nothing to show for hauling my equipment half a world away and up a mountain. Tom was operating from Rio, which is about 3000 km from Santiago. Right after working him, I talked with Paulo, PR2W operating from Brasilia. Paulo gave me a 579, so I was glad that my signal was not entirely in the mud, although I’m sure his antenna did the heavy lifting.
The plaza overlooking downtown Santiago
While listening down the band, I heard an Italian station calling — he was pretty faint, so I though I would have no chance, but I could hear another station calling nearby. The more I spun the dial, the louder it became. It was slow but sure, and I had to hear it a few times because I was not familiar with the structure of the call sign: CD6792. After one exchange, I found out that it was Álvaro, a member of the Radio Club of Chile that I had met the previous day. ¡Fine business, Álvaro!
The view from my operating position on the side of a hill.
I had two more contacts: LU8WX in Argentina was rapid-firing DX contacts, and he got didn’t miss a beat in replying to my unusually long call. I also found that I could also get a reasonable match on 15m, so my final contact was with Rei, PY2VJ in Brazil.
So, five contacts isn’t anything to gloat about, but considering that Murphy accompanied me up the mountain, I was happy to have had even one. It seemed that conditions were getting better as the day went along, so propagation may also have played some role. I’ll note that the previous day, the K index had gone up to 4, and when I was operating it, it was declining, but still about 2.
A couple quick notes on ARRL CW Sweepstakes 2013 before the memories evaporate: I was keen to work this contest because although I’ve focused on and off on DX stations, I hadn’t worked all states by CW according to logbook of the world. Sure, I had, in fact, worked all states over the last couple years by CW, but for a number of states I have a QSL card rather than an entry in LOTW. I was concerned that we’d be moving this summer and I might not have a chance to get some of the less populated states into the record. I’m happy to report after the contest that CW contacts with all states are now documented in my LOTW account. I can now rest easy.
I don’t have a lot of experience in sweepstakes, and had to look up the exchange of serial number, precedence, my call, check value (the year I was licensed), and my state. My sent exchange was of the form “001 A AI4SV 84 VA”. It took quite a while to get used to sending that string, and more to get used to receiving it and getting it into N1MM.
I began at the starting time of the contest and was instantly barraged frantic 30+ wpm exchanges. Everyone was feeling the pressure at the start, and maybe this strategy pays off, but by the second day, the same stations had slowed way down. It’s not the end of the world to ask for fills and repeats, and in the worst case, you can always hear the station on their next reply and back-fill anything that you missed out on, but coming into the contest cold left me shaken up a bit. A few hours of contesting fixed that, and by the time I left to see “Gravity”, I had a flow going.
The next day, I was only on for a few hours in the middle of the day and a couple at the end. I made a dumb mistake in the last hour. Daylight savings time had changed in the US that weekend, and I hadn’t taken that into account — I thought the contest ended at 11 pm local time, but it ended at 10. I’d been working 40m and had just switched to 80m when the contest stopped, so I didn’t get to fully plunder the 80m crowd, and so came up short on some local areas, such as parts of New York and Massachusetts.
At the end of the event, here’s the breakdown of my score. I was a long way from a clean sweep, but I was very pleased to have worked Yukon Territory – I think that was a first for me.
This is how I looked this evening at 8 pm, at the conclusion of the CQ WW SSB contest. I didn’t work the whole contest in “iron butt” mode, but I my throat was sore and my ears were ringing at the end of the event anyhow — I think I’m out of practice (particularly on voice), as I’ve been more focused on projects than operating lately.
I started early on Saturday morning, rather than the night before and took a few breaks during the day. In the evening, I hung up the earphones around 7 pm and went out for dinner and to see the movie “Gravity”. I didn’t get back on the radio until Sunday morning around 11 am, but then worked more or less straight through to the end of the contest at 8 pm.
The notable feature of this year’s CQ WW SSB was the highly energized state of the ionosphere, with solar flux above 160 for the entire contest, and no solar events to spoil the fun. Ten meters was an endless ocean of signals, with stations dotting the landscape up to around 29.6 Mhz. The flip side of this was that atmospheric absorption and noise were elevated on the lower bands, but the trade off seemed very reasonable to me.
By category, I was a single operator, low power (95W), all band station. My ulterior motive during the contest was to find some new ones, so I was “assisted” in that I kept an eye occasionally on the DX cluster and checked my signal on the reverse beacon network. Most of the time, I cruised the bands, just listening for callers, though. As a “little gun”, I didn’t go a lot of calling myself.
The rig was the K3 and my antennas consisted of my attic antennas: a DX-CC covering 10, 15, 20, and 40m (shortened) and a fan dipole for the lower portion of 10m and 17m (the 17m portion wasn’t used). In addition, I had a chance to use the 80m vertical that I had recently modified. Unfortunately, both 40m and 80m were very noisy, both due to atmospheric noise and local QRM. I had anticipated that 80m would be my secret weapon for working the Caribbean an perhaps Europe, but not so much. The conditions were poor on 80m, and those stations were already doing good business on the upper bands.
The contest was enjoyable for the variety of stations worked, as well as the number: 254. I did log one entirely new DXCC entity: Trinidad and Tobago, and worked a number of countries for the first time on phone, including three consecutive voice contacts with Japan. My final score was 123,467 according to N1MM, which I suppose is good, since I didn’t really have a goal. After caressing the data, here is the list of countries worked: Aland Island, Alaska, Antigua & Barbuda, Argentina, Aruba, Austria, Barbados, Belgium, Bonaire, Brazil, Canada, Canary Islands, Cape Verde, Chile, Colombia, Costa Rica, Croatia, Curacao, Czech Republic, Denmark, Dominican Republic, Ecuador, England, Estonia, European Russia, France, French Guiana, Germany, Hawaii, Honduras, Hungary, Iceland, Ireland, Italy, Jamaica, Japan, Jersey, Latvia, Lithuania, Madeira Island, Martinique, Mexico, Morocco, Netherlands, Nicaragua, Norway, Poland, Portugal, Puerto Rico, Scotland, Serbia, Slovak Republic, Slovenia, Spain, St. Maarten, Saba, St. Eustatius, Sweden, Trinidad & Tobago, Tunisia, Turks & Caicos Islands, Ukraine, Uruguay, USA, Venezuela, Virgin Islands, Wales.
As usual, after the contest, I uploaded logs to Lord-Of-The-Web server, and of course, even one else did the same. I checked back and hour later, and my log had not been processed — it must take a lot of computing power to crunch and correlate that many records. Being the patient type, I checked back another 20 minutes later, and sure enough, I saw a familiar post-contest sight:
In addition to the CQ WW SSB, I shambled-on-out for the 2013 Zombie Shuffle on Friday night. I joined in late because of a Vienna Wireless meeting on Friday night, so I only caught about two hours, from ten to midnight. Twenty meters was dead by the time I got there, and 40 and 80 meters were really noisy. I had six tortured QSOs in all, but I’m glad I had a chance to take part in the QRP event.