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There used to be an ad campaign for Major League Baseball I believe, that asked, "Baseball Fever, how bad do YOU have it?" Well, I got a real bad itch for “Radiosport” on Friday, February 28, and so after work I went to the local sporting goods store, bought a $9 closed-face fishing reel and a $4 sling shot. I used some wire ties to fasten the two together and tied a 5/8 inch nut to the end of the fishing line. I then used this contraption to launch the fishing line over a 35-foot tall light pole in the parking lot in front of my office. Once accomplished, I used the fishing line to hoist a stronger polypropylene string over the light pole. I repeated this process at another light pole about 140 feet away. I now had the foundation laid to raise a dipole. I went home knowing that I had tackled the hardest obstacle standing between the NAQP RTTY contest and me on Saturday, March 1.
On Saturday morning, I packed up my station into a storage tub, made sure that I had the software set up for the RTTY contest, and headed back to the office. Raising the antenna went without a hitch. I attached one end of the antenna to the line at the east end of the lot, and then the other end to the line over the pole at the west end. As I pulled on the west end line, the 102’ long dipole came taut about three feet from the west pole. Although the antenna was not centered between the two light poles, the center point of the antenna with the feed line attached was hanging perfectly over my car. It was almost as if it were ordained. I attached the power cable of the radio directly to the car battery, and the antenna feed line to the radio, and fired it up. I was hearing distant stations clearer than I have heard them in a long time!
Next up was the task of connecting the computer to the radio. This was to be a contest where all operators used radioteletype (abbreviated RTTY) as the means of communicating with each other. When you think back to all of the old archive footage of teletype machines of the past, and consider that they have all been replaced by software programs that run on simple personal computers, it is amazing. It is also fortunate. Having to lug a 200-pound radioteletype machine around would make this contest much less appealing. An audio cable from the radio’s speaker out jack connected to the computers audio in port, and a cable from the computers speaker out jack connected to the radio’s audio in port. The radio is set to switch to the transmit mode whenever an audio signal is heard over this cable. Easy peasy.
The way a teletype works in theory is pretty simple to explain, but the process of making it happen is another thing altogether. Whether over phone lines or over the airwaves, teletype signals are made up of two tones at specific frequencies with a fixed interval. Just as Morse code is a series of dots and dashes sent in combinations representative of alphabetic characters and symbols, teletype uses Baudot code, a combination of two tones sent alternately in specific sequences. Unlike Morse code, where a character can be represented by one, two, three, four, or five dots and/or dashes in various combinations, Baudot code uses a fixed-length five-digit binary string. All characters are made from a combination of five 1s and 0s starting with 00000 and going through 11111. One of the tones is representative of the zeros, the other the ones.
Those of you who are math geniuses will quickly calculate that the number of unique combinations of five 1s and 0s (32) is inadequate for expressing all of the characters in the English alphabet, the numbers 0-9, and basic punctuation symbols. To get around this limitation, there are two collections of characters, the letters set, and the numbers set. A special control character signals the receiver to switch from letters to numbers and then another control character to switch back (think of it as like the shift lock key on a keyboard - pressing it yields one set of characters while typing, releasing it yields another). Fortunately, all I need to know is how to load and run a piece of software.
So, with the antenna hoisted, the radio fired up, and the computer connected, I was good-to-go. At the appointed hour of noon Central time, I began scanning the airwaves for that distinctive sound of RTTY signals – a warble of the aforementioned two tones. Oblivious to the odd looks of passers-by, my sole focus was intent on listening for warbles and watching the computer screen, which showed me a graphical representation of the radio spectrum and assisted me in zeroing in on and synchronizing with the other station so that I could decode his data. Pausing only briefly at various times to crank the car engine for battery preservation, take potty breaks, and to make a peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich, I spent the next nine hours and fifty minutes sitting outside on a camp stool beside my car with my radio and computer sitting on TV trays, scanning up and down the radio frequencies looking for contacts. I was interrupted a few times by curious onlookers bold enough to enquire as what I might be doing, and who were satiated by the simple two words, “ham radio”. I invited them to stay and watch, but they all declined.
When it was all said and done, I had made 95 contacts with other RTTY enthusiasts around North America, and had a pleasant, warm experience. (I later realized that the warm feeling came from the sunburn that I had gotten on the left side of my face because I sat facing west the entire time while the sun past overhead in the southern hemisphere.) I certainly got my “fix” of radio that day, but unfortunately, it only served to heighten my “addiction”. It is hard to explain the joy of scanning the ethereal radio spectrum for strange signals from distant places. A legend in the Ham Radio hobby, Martin Jue, the owner of MFJ Enterprises, a maker of accessories for ham radio stations, probably described it the best in a recent interview with a newspaper reporter in his hometown of Starkville, Mississippi.
“People ask me if the cell phone and Internet are going to wipe out ham radio. Well it doesn’t. You can go to any Kroger store or Piggly Wiggly or some grocery store like that and buy all the fish you want to eat, but people still fish. It’s bigger than ever. One hundred years ago, people picked up the telephone and talked to anybody they wanted to. Ham radio is not just about talking to somebody. It’s about fishing. It’s a hobby. It’s a sport. So it will be around for a long time. People will do it because they want to do it. Like playing golf, you know, I can’t figure out why someone would want to try to hit that little ball into a hole, and a lot of people can’t figure out why someone would want to play with a radio. It’s a hobby. With ham radio, I can put a little box in my car and be driving down the road talking to somebody in Australia or somebody in England.” - http://www.cdispatch.com/news/article.asp?aid=395
Whether it is talking to disembodied voices hundreds or thousands of miles away, sending and decoding dots and dashes via Morse code, or exchanging information with other RTTY enthusiasts, there is always that excitement of never knowing exactly and predictably just what will happen. Like Mr. Jue said, it is a lot like fishing, and in my case, it even includes using fishing line and a reel. My itch got a major scratch last Saturday, but I’m sure it will only last a short time before I will have to do it again.
Sunday, March 8, 2009
Friday, January 16, 2009
For me, Ham Radio will never be the same
As a newly transplanted resident of Houston, Texas (I don’t consider myself a “Houstonian” yet), I had high on my list of priorities the check item of meeting local Amateur Radio Operators and getting involved in, or at least acquainted with, a local Ham organization. To that end, and on the advice of a Ham in the Atlanta area, I contacted the Texas DX Society via the e-mail at their website. I was replied to quickly, and during exchanges with several members, received an invitation to visit with a contesting team at a multi-station location near the Houston area during the CW portion of the North American QSO Party contest.
The NAQP series of contests are a favorite for many Amateurs because they are shorter than most events in that they last only 12 hours (versus 24 or 36). A single operator may only work ten of the contest hours, so a two-hour window for dining with the family or doing chores can be scheduled before, during or after, the event. This adds to the lure and draw of the contest. A team of operators, either sharing a single transmitter, or using two transmitters simultaneously can operate the entire contest period, which runs from Noon to midnight in Houston. There are other rules specific to operating, that I’ll explain later. This particular event, the CW portion, involved using only the Morse code to make contacts.
My invitation was to visit the ham radio “shack” of George DeMontrond, whose call sign is NR5M. The term shack is a common phrase in the Ham world to define the operation area for the equipment. Often, it is merely a table in an unused bedroom, office area, basement, or garage. Occasionally it is an entire room attached to a home or in an out building. In the case of NR5M, however, it describes a small house on a ranch that is populated with no less than six tall towers greater than 100 feet in the air and lots of wire and cable connecting them to a room of this house that has been converted to a command center for full-on aggressive contesting.
I arrived around 2:00PM, after the contest had begun, and was really totally unprepared for the sights that I saw. First of all the idea of an entire house devoted to a contest station was a new concept to me. Granted, it was a small, 1600-1800 square foot building, but it was clear that it served one purpose – Radio Contesting. The living room was Spartan but functional; the major piece of furniture was a large screen TV for watching football. Various recliners and couchs were distributed around the room for naps during extended events, but they were barren during this short race. The kitchen was a “come and go” facility designed for quickly grabbing nourishment during brief breaks in the action before diving back in.
The “war room” was beyond belief as well. I had always heard about these places but I had never seen one in person. Even pictures that I had seen on the Internet of other similar set-ups didn’t do it justice. There is a phrase adopted from the sporting world to describe something that is garishly larger than life and almost “freakish” in appearance – the term is “on steroids”. I find even that reference inadequate when comparing an “average” Ham Radio station to this one. There were ten fully functional, state of the art, top-of-the-line transmitters. Each one was connected to a dedicated computer with two-way data exchange between the rig and the CPU. A flat panel monitor above the radio displayed the contest logging software that included data about the radio – frequency, mode, and other pertinent information. These computers were all networked together and the software allowed each operator to see all of the entries to the contest log as they were entered. It also displayed the other stations’ modes, frequencies, and recent contacts also. Of course, there were a lot of other gadgets and accessories as well that facilitated interconnection of the radios to the widely varied collection of antennas outside on “the farm” and other operational aids. A master display at one end of the room was capable of displaying each station’s info in side-by-side windows for quick reference and the amusement of spectators.
The radios are grouped in pairs, for each of the major contesting bands: 1.8 MHz, 3.5 MHz, 7 MHz, 14 MHz, 21 MHz, and 28 MHz. Each pair of radios uses a shared transmit antenna. The operators sit side-by-side; one is anchored on a single frequency “broadcasting” the call sign of the station inviting other contest participants to reply. The other operator scans up and down the band for other “broadcasters” and contacts them. The ironic twist is that the anchored operator is called the “running” station. The other operator is called the “sweeper station”. Sometimes he is called the “search-and-pounce” station. The rules for the NAQP contest state that a maximum of only two radios are allowed to be transmitting at any given time. To help with this limitation, and since only one radio can use the transmit antenna at a time, some pairs of radios have an electronic lockout system that prohibits the alternate radio from transmitting when one is in use. Even so, a set of pre-determined hand signals and close attention is mandatory for the pair to collaborate successfully. In the space of sixty-seconds, each radio in a pair may transmit eight to ten times, but never simultaneously. Using this system, and two paired teams, the maximum exposure is maintained while staying inside the confines of the rules.
The running station normally takes precedence over the sweeper station, but it is not uncommon for both stations to alternate sending contest information to two different distant stations in a choreographed manner. One way that this is facilitated is by use of pre-programmed messages that are stored in the radio’s computer. By pressing a preset key on the computer keyboard, the computer will transmit the message to the radio, which then broadcasts it. It isn’t totally automated, however. There are Morse code keyers at each position that see lots of use as the distant station asks for repeats or info that can’t be satisfied with the programmed responses. Additionally, the decoding of the distant stations is all done aurally. The most sophisticated computers and the most advanced software are even at their best, no match for the human ear and brain of a top-notch CW enthusiast.
The first thing that hit me as I entered the room was the eerie silence. There were four operators positioned at radios with headphones on. They were intently focused on the audio entering their ears. Their hands were poised over the computer keyboard and their eyes were fixed on the computer monitor. One member of the symbiotic pair, as if he were a traffic cop, would wave his hand toward his partner signaling him to either proceed or halt transmitting. A fifth operator, at a third location, was scanning up and down the band segment for that pair of radios. He was listening, and recording the frequency locations of “running” stations on that band. In time, one of the two operating duos would take a break. One of those team members would join this fifth man and they would begin an assault on that band of frequencies.
The one noise that constantly interrupted the tedium was the ring of “the bell”. Each time a significant milestone was reached, the news was shared to the others by ringing this larger, fire alarm-sized bell that was similar to what would be found ringside at a boxing match. One of the more prolific milestones is a score multiplier. In most every contest, the objective is to contact as many other stations as possible. In the NAQP, the focus is on North American geo-political entities (individual US states, Canadian provinces, Mexico, and island countries in the Caribbean). Contacts with any other Amateur Radio station (including non-North American stations) counts for one point. A limit of one contact with each station can be made on any individual band of frequencies. They can however, be contacted on each of the other five contesting bands, so theoretically that other station could be contacted on all five bands for a total of five points. The information that is exchanged during the contest to verify the contact is the operators name and his location. This information is dutifully logged in the contesting software. Each time a new geo-political entity is contacted, a multiplier is earned. There are 107 possible multipliers. At the end of the contest, the total score is calculated by multiplying total of number of contacts by total number of multipliers. The significance of multipliers cannot be over emphasized. Late in the contest, adding even a single new multiplier can be equivalent to a dozen or more individual contacts and thousands of points. To that end, when a station is worked on one band, but is needed as a multiplier on another band, it is common practice to ask the needed station if they would kindly "QSY", or change bands so that they could be worked by the team that needs them for a multiplier. Many stations oblige, some are unable.
Eventually, as the various operators “came up for air”, I was able to meet them and found them all to be a likeable lot. One of the idiosyncrasies of Ham Radio operators is that, generally speaking, surnames are superfluous. A name and a call sign are usually adequate, and many long and fast friendships have been built over the airwaves between individuals who only know each other by their first names. Moreover, in the case of CW, many times the two operators have never even heard the other’s voice. The operators at this contest were (in no particular order) Bill, K5GA, Roy, AD5Q, OJ, K1OJ, Mike, K5NZ, and Dennis, NT5TU. George – NR5M was the host of course and served well as the coxswain for this synchronized crew. Kenny, KZ5KJ was the station’s technical manager.
One of the challenges of Ham Radio is that radio waves are subject to atmospheric conditions that will vary by seasons, but also by time of day. Some of the bands have characteristics that make them ideal for daytime operation. Other bands are nighttime only bands. Knowing when to abandon a daytime band and start tackling a nighttime band is a critical decision. One of the rules of the contest states that once you change to a different band and begin operating, you are committed to that new band for a minimum of ten minutes. As the contest reached its midway point of 6:00 PM, the band switching decisions becomes critical. If you jump too soon because you hear a few stations on the new band, you are committed to it and stand the chance of missing some final valuable stations. If you wait too late, you’ve lost valuable time on the new band.
Because the NR5M station could have operating teams on any of the bands, they began a carousel-like rotation during this day-to-dusk transitional period. They would post two operators on the busiest band and put single operators on three of the marginal bands that were either fading out or just coming alive. These three persons would busy themselves making lists of “running” station that they needed to contact on their respective bands. These three team members would then alternate in ten or twenty-minute cycles taking turns being the second on-air station. In time, one of the bands would finally dry up. The operator of the now dead band would then transition to be the second operator on the band that was coming to life and the duo would voraciously attack it.
Many more tactics were employed some more subtle than others, but all were well within the limits of the rules. These contesters know that there are multitudes of opportunities to cheat in the game. However, like golfers, they pride themselves in doing the right thing, even it means accepting a self-imposed penalty. A win without honor is not a win. Besides, with a championship caliber operating facility, there is no reason to cheat.
As the night wore down and the contest neared a close, the number of stations not previously worked began to dwindle dramatically. Multiplier contacts became scarce and the bells rang less frequently. When it was down to the last minutes, finding “fresh meat” became a real struggle. Then, at the stroke of midnight local time, it was over.
The raw score totals for the team was astonishing. The numbers of contacts on several of the individual bands were higher than could be remembered and the multiplier total was respectable, if not a record itself. The database of contacts will be submitted to the contest sponsors for adjudication and this process will take several months. In the interim however, a spot check of the raw scores as posted on an Internet “brag board” shows that this station claimed more points than any other and was one of only two that claimed over 500,000 points.
When I finally arrived back home at 1:00AM, I realized that I had just experienced an “Oz” moment. I had been to someplace special and experienced an event that will forever change how I think about Ham Radio. I know that with practice and dedication my skill level will improve. I would consider a high honor to be invited to fill seat at this station some day, but based on level of mastery that I observed in the operators for this event, I know that it will be a long road.
The NAQP series of contests are a favorite for many Amateurs because they are shorter than most events in that they last only 12 hours (versus 24 or 36). A single operator may only work ten of the contest hours, so a two-hour window for dining with the family or doing chores can be scheduled before, during or after, the event. This adds to the lure and draw of the contest. A team of operators, either sharing a single transmitter, or using two transmitters simultaneously can operate the entire contest period, which runs from Noon to midnight in Houston. There are other rules specific to operating, that I’ll explain later. This particular event, the CW portion, involved using only the Morse code to make contacts.
My invitation was to visit the ham radio “shack” of George DeMontrond, whose call sign is NR5M. The term shack is a common phrase in the Ham world to define the operation area for the equipment. Often, it is merely a table in an unused bedroom, office area, basement, or garage. Occasionally it is an entire room attached to a home or in an out building. In the case of NR5M, however, it describes a small house on a ranch that is populated with no less than six tall towers greater than 100 feet in the air and lots of wire and cable connecting them to a room of this house that has been converted to a command center for full-on aggressive contesting.
I arrived around 2:00PM, after the contest had begun, and was really totally unprepared for the sights that I saw. First of all the idea of an entire house devoted to a contest station was a new concept to me. Granted, it was a small, 1600-1800 square foot building, but it was clear that it served one purpose – Radio Contesting. The living room was Spartan but functional; the major piece of furniture was a large screen TV for watching football. Various recliners and couchs were distributed around the room for naps during extended events, but they were barren during this short race. The kitchen was a “come and go” facility designed for quickly grabbing nourishment during brief breaks in the action before diving back in.
The “war room” was beyond belief as well. I had always heard about these places but I had never seen one in person. Even pictures that I had seen on the Internet of other similar set-ups didn’t do it justice. There is a phrase adopted from the sporting world to describe something that is garishly larger than life and almost “freakish” in appearance – the term is “on steroids”. I find even that reference inadequate when comparing an “average” Ham Radio station to this one. There were ten fully functional, state of the art, top-of-the-line transmitters. Each one was connected to a dedicated computer with two-way data exchange between the rig and the CPU. A flat panel monitor above the radio displayed the contest logging software that included data about the radio – frequency, mode, and other pertinent information. These computers were all networked together and the software allowed each operator to see all of the entries to the contest log as they were entered. It also displayed the other stations’ modes, frequencies, and recent contacts also. Of course, there were a lot of other gadgets and accessories as well that facilitated interconnection of the radios to the widely varied collection of antennas outside on “the farm” and other operational aids. A master display at one end of the room was capable of displaying each station’s info in side-by-side windows for quick reference and the amusement of spectators.
The radios are grouped in pairs, for each of the major contesting bands: 1.8 MHz, 3.5 MHz, 7 MHz, 14 MHz, 21 MHz, and 28 MHz. Each pair of radios uses a shared transmit antenna. The operators sit side-by-side; one is anchored on a single frequency “broadcasting” the call sign of the station inviting other contest participants to reply. The other operator scans up and down the band for other “broadcasters” and contacts them. The ironic twist is that the anchored operator is called the “running” station. The other operator is called the “sweeper station”. Sometimes he is called the “search-and-pounce” station. The rules for the NAQP contest state that a maximum of only two radios are allowed to be transmitting at any given time. To help with this limitation, and since only one radio can use the transmit antenna at a time, some pairs of radios have an electronic lockout system that prohibits the alternate radio from transmitting when one is in use. Even so, a set of pre-determined hand signals and close attention is mandatory for the pair to collaborate successfully. In the space of sixty-seconds, each radio in a pair may transmit eight to ten times, but never simultaneously. Using this system, and two paired teams, the maximum exposure is maintained while staying inside the confines of the rules.
The running station normally takes precedence over the sweeper station, but it is not uncommon for both stations to alternate sending contest information to two different distant stations in a choreographed manner. One way that this is facilitated is by use of pre-programmed messages that are stored in the radio’s computer. By pressing a preset key on the computer keyboard, the computer will transmit the message to the radio, which then broadcasts it. It isn’t totally automated, however. There are Morse code keyers at each position that see lots of use as the distant station asks for repeats or info that can’t be satisfied with the programmed responses. Additionally, the decoding of the distant stations is all done aurally. The most sophisticated computers and the most advanced software are even at their best, no match for the human ear and brain of a top-notch CW enthusiast.
The first thing that hit me as I entered the room was the eerie silence. There were four operators positioned at radios with headphones on. They were intently focused on the audio entering their ears. Their hands were poised over the computer keyboard and their eyes were fixed on the computer monitor. One member of the symbiotic pair, as if he were a traffic cop, would wave his hand toward his partner signaling him to either proceed or halt transmitting. A fifth operator, at a third location, was scanning up and down the band segment for that pair of radios. He was listening, and recording the frequency locations of “running” stations on that band. In time, one of the two operating duos would take a break. One of those team members would join this fifth man and they would begin an assault on that band of frequencies.
The one noise that constantly interrupted the tedium was the ring of “the bell”. Each time a significant milestone was reached, the news was shared to the others by ringing this larger, fire alarm-sized bell that was similar to what would be found ringside at a boxing match. One of the more prolific milestones is a score multiplier. In most every contest, the objective is to contact as many other stations as possible. In the NAQP, the focus is on North American geo-political entities (individual US states, Canadian provinces, Mexico, and island countries in the Caribbean). Contacts with any other Amateur Radio station (including non-North American stations) counts for one point. A limit of one contact with each station can be made on any individual band of frequencies. They can however, be contacted on each of the other five contesting bands, so theoretically that other station could be contacted on all five bands for a total of five points. The information that is exchanged during the contest to verify the contact is the operators name and his location. This information is dutifully logged in the contesting software. Each time a new geo-political entity is contacted, a multiplier is earned. There are 107 possible multipliers. At the end of the contest, the total score is calculated by multiplying total of number of contacts by total number of multipliers. The significance of multipliers cannot be over emphasized. Late in the contest, adding even a single new multiplier can be equivalent to a dozen or more individual contacts and thousands of points. To that end, when a station is worked on one band, but is needed as a multiplier on another band, it is common practice to ask the needed station if they would kindly "QSY", or change bands so that they could be worked by the team that needs them for a multiplier. Many stations oblige, some are unable.
Eventually, as the various operators “came up for air”, I was able to meet them and found them all to be a likeable lot. One of the idiosyncrasies of Ham Radio operators is that, generally speaking, surnames are superfluous. A name and a call sign are usually adequate, and many long and fast friendships have been built over the airwaves between individuals who only know each other by their first names. Moreover, in the case of CW, many times the two operators have never even heard the other’s voice. The operators at this contest were (in no particular order) Bill, K5GA, Roy, AD5Q, OJ, K1OJ, Mike, K5NZ, and Dennis, NT5TU. George – NR5M was the host of course and served well as the coxswain for this synchronized crew. Kenny, KZ5KJ was the station’s technical manager.
One of the challenges of Ham Radio is that radio waves are subject to atmospheric conditions that will vary by seasons, but also by time of day. Some of the bands have characteristics that make them ideal for daytime operation. Other bands are nighttime only bands. Knowing when to abandon a daytime band and start tackling a nighttime band is a critical decision. One of the rules of the contest states that once you change to a different band and begin operating, you are committed to that new band for a minimum of ten minutes. As the contest reached its midway point of 6:00 PM, the band switching decisions becomes critical. If you jump too soon because you hear a few stations on the new band, you are committed to it and stand the chance of missing some final valuable stations. If you wait too late, you’ve lost valuable time on the new band.
Because the NR5M station could have operating teams on any of the bands, they began a carousel-like rotation during this day-to-dusk transitional period. They would post two operators on the busiest band and put single operators on three of the marginal bands that were either fading out or just coming alive. These three persons would busy themselves making lists of “running” station that they needed to contact on their respective bands. These three team members would then alternate in ten or twenty-minute cycles taking turns being the second on-air station. In time, one of the bands would finally dry up. The operator of the now dead band would then transition to be the second operator on the band that was coming to life and the duo would voraciously attack it.
Many more tactics were employed some more subtle than others, but all were well within the limits of the rules. These contesters know that there are multitudes of opportunities to cheat in the game. However, like golfers, they pride themselves in doing the right thing, even it means accepting a self-imposed penalty. A win without honor is not a win. Besides, with a championship caliber operating facility, there is no reason to cheat.
As the night wore down and the contest neared a close, the number of stations not previously worked began to dwindle dramatically. Multiplier contacts became scarce and the bells rang less frequently. When it was down to the last minutes, finding “fresh meat” became a real struggle. Then, at the stroke of midnight local time, it was over.
The raw score totals for the team was astonishing. The numbers of contacts on several of the individual bands were higher than could be remembered and the multiplier total was respectable, if not a record itself. The database of contacts will be submitted to the contest sponsors for adjudication and this process will take several months. In the interim however, a spot check of the raw scores as posted on an Internet “brag board” shows that this station claimed more points than any other and was one of only two that claimed over 500,000 points.
When I finally arrived back home at 1:00AM, I realized that I had just experienced an “Oz” moment. I had been to someplace special and experienced an event that will forever change how I think about Ham Radio. I know that with practice and dedication my skill level will improve. I would consider a high honor to be invited to fill seat at this station some day, but based on level of mastery that I observed in the operators for this event, I know that it will be a long road.
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