I kept a journal for part of my run to Beagle Point this weekend. I started at 21:14:00 E
time on February 5, and eventually finished at 05:55:59 on February 7, completing the trip in a total of 32 hours, 41 minutes, and 59 seconds. The entries faded out over time as fatigue set in; this journal is composed of some of those entries, as well as post-race thoughts on the second part of the journey: the trip through the Abyss, and the journey through the end of the arm to Beagle Point.
The initial entries:
***
Started at 21:14:00 E Time, February 5, 3302. Was an annoying start, as it required three attempts. Damaged the ship going out of the gate first attempt; second attempt, got interdicted after the first jump, while I was switching from inhabited-space to uninhabited- space mode, and took some damage from that.
Still, on my way. I know it’s going to take at least 24 hours, and possibly upwards of 30. When you factor in things like a bum shoulder, a nasty cold, and working today, thinking I can do a run from Asellus Primus to Beagle Point is this side of crazy.
That said, despite this, I’m feeling pretty good. As long as I don’t have to talk, I should be fine. Was losing my voice earlier today.
22:30: Realized something interesting. Actually, recalled an episode of Top Gear, where the hosts realized they were driving on the North Pole – in other words, quite literally No Man’s Land – and, thus, could legally drink and drive. Promptly picked up a shandy from the fridge.
22:38: Landing between two white Fs, at Smojai EH-D d12-12. Or, to put it another way, “F” this. My ship was not happy.
This run, to be honest, is a lot different from an A* run. The A* run, for all its physical endurance aspects, also requires a brutal efficiency, to cut every second off of an 8-hour run. This run, on the other hand… it’s just not going to happen to keep up that brutal efficiency for over 24 hours. So, I’ll stop for a minute to go to the bathroom; I suspect I’ll make at least one food run over the course of the session. The priorities are just different. The goal is to just keep going. It’s the difference between a marathon and the Long Walk. The marathon is against time. The Long Walk is… can you keep going, be the last one standing?
I’m in the Long Walk. And it’s my job to be the last one standing.
23:00: The problem with a run like Beagle Point is that, well… I’m not sure how much I want to talk about it. This is, quite literally, the upper limit of what can be done. No one has ever finished a run from the inhabited zones to Beagle Point in one sitting. No one. There are definitely no guarantees for this. So, given the uncertainty there… how much should I talk about it beforehand?
I know what things are going to be like 18 hours or so from now, when I run into the Abyss. I’m going to be exhausted; at that point, it will have been at least 24 hours, possibly more, since I had any sleep. The plan is to go in at Beagle Crossing, which will give a nice cushion against being blocked, but still. It makes the test of navigating the core on the A* challenge seem like child’s play.
Because of this… I’ve been a bit reluctant to come out and say, “Hey, I’m going to do a Beagle Point Run This Weekend!” I certainly started that way – I’d initially intended to make this run two weeks ago, then had the joy of injuring my shoulder to the point that I literally could not lift my right (piloting) arm. The two weeks in between – a run last weekend was impossible, which turned out to be a good thing once the servers went down – I used to get a better idea of what I’m facing.
Getting an idea of the plots beyond Beagle Crossing is enough to sober anyone’s ego.
Since then, I’ve been a little leery of announcing the details of my plans before all of this is done. Other than friends I’m in chat with, the only announcement I could give was on the A* board:
“Headed out for a little drive. Let's see how far I can go.”
When going to Beagle Point, that’s the only thing that really can be said.
1:30, February 6, 3302: I’m reminded of one of the fascinating parts of A*. An inexperienced commander will invariably say that the core is the most difficult part. An experienced commander, on the other hand, thrives in the core, because there is no waste there: the ship goes as fast as possible, and isn’t held back by the sparseness of stars.
For some reason, the words “dancing between raindrops” comes to mind to describe running in the core.
One thing to note: The comments are likely to get loopier as time goes on. That’s probably the first comment I’ve had that qualifies as loopy. It will by no means be the last.
2:45: One of the most challenging decisions any CMDR faces on a long run is how much fuel to hold. I’ve never been a fan of one-jump setups; I’ve usually used two- or three-jump setups on my A* runs. It was a dilemma as to whether or not to go two or three; eventually, I decided on a three-jump setup. This meant a slightly-less “normal” jump range of 39.8 rather than 40.4; on the other hand, there have been a couple of cases so far where I’ve encountered consecutive unscoopables – but I have yet to have three consecutive unscoopables.
3:36: First glitch of the night. The one thing multiple A* runs has prepared me for is how to deal with glitches. In this case, the hiccup was the graphics card. Only a couple of minutes lost. If this was an A* run, I wouldn’t be happy; at the moment, though, it’s less than nothing.
4:10: You ever have one of those moments where you wonder if everyone else’s mind is as random as your own? I should start cataloguing some of the odd things that cross through my mind as I make this run.
Let’s see… so far…
The 1989 Tour de France, and whether or not it’s better to keep statistics in the middle of a run, or just go all out and see how things end up
The feasibility of making an A* run in my Imp Courier, just so I can officially christen the ship.
Why there aren’t more metalheads in academia
Strategies for finding songs that you don’t know the artists for.
The fact that sci-fi works are generally considered unrealistic more for sociopolitical reasons than technological ones
Interesting “what-if”s of music – what if McCartney and Lennon had taken Lorne Michaels’ open offer to reunite on Saturday Night Live, what if Dave Mustaine hadn’t gotten himself kicked out of Metallica, what if radio station WDAI in Chicago hadn’t fired Steve Dahl (look up Disco Demolition Night for an understanding of its effects)
What is the one ship in E that I have the least use for? (Candidates: Type-9, Asp Scout, Vulture)
The reason why the 24 Hours of Le Mans has multiple-driver teams
5:14: Eight-hour mark. The best way to put it… in the first few hours of the run, I had no problem with drinking alcohol. Now, I don’t dare. Haven’t pulled out the caffeine yet, but I suspect that will come about 4 hours or so from now. I’m somewhere around the 23kylie mark at the moment – by the amount I have to go in terms of distance, roughly a third of the way there.
Incidently, if you’re using a 39.8ly Anaconda, remember the magic number 985. Once you’re in the ‘major’ core area, it’ll come in handy.
6:14: Just passed the 25900ly mark. A* is now officially an empty circle on my sensors. I would have had a sub-9hr time if I was going for A* – not bad for a three-jump setup with ADS and DSS, with no planned route.
One easy way to be confused: Apparently, a few thousand light-years to the east of A*, there’s a sector called Stuemaea. For those of us who’ve spent too much time around Stuemeae…
6:30: I really should add a playlist to this diary. For that matter, is there a discussion as to the best music for E deep racing / exploration?
Music presented for your approval for a Beagle Point run:
The Downeaster “Alexa” - Billy Joel
Asu e no Brilliant Road – Angela
Jedi Drinking Song – Dust Rhinos
Leave Everything Behind – Amaranthe
Don’t Look Back - Boston
7:36: Just passed 30000 ly.
8:34: Just hit 32800 ly. As the photon flies, I’m closer to Beagle Point than to Sol. I’d be a fool to think I’m more than halfway there, though.
9:14: 12-hour mark. At the 34800ly mark; 909 jumps to get here.
9:22: Just had my first FSD malfunction. Will probably need to stop for a few minutes for repairs in a bit.
11:11. Leaving the Core at about 39.5 kylies. I’m going to miss the core – especially as there’s still 18 kylies to the start of Beagle Crossing. Finally pulling out the caffeine.
12:14. 15-hour mark. At 42.2 kylie mark. Taking a break to get breakfast (for me, is 7 AM.)
14:27: Second glitch. Pretty sure it’s on the cable-model end, which sucks. Still, given
***
Needless to say, around the 7:00 point, there wasn’t a lot to say anymore. It was simply endurance; get it done, get it done. Where it stopped, the last entry… this was about the point when my mind said, “You’re going to go to sleep now…” I took a nap for a few hours, then started up again around 19:00.
I don’t have any comments directly from that point, because at that point I was doubting whether I would release any of this. It’s like Hunter Thompson’s chronicle of an LSD trip without any of Thompson’s writing skill. That said, I can give a post-mortem chronicle of what happened.
I stopped at about the 47k mark, about 10k shy of where Beagle Crossing begins, and continued to make my way to the beginning of Beagle Crossing at Proyooe LW-E D11-3. The first shock… I was probably about 800-900 ly from that point, tried to plot a route directly to that system… and it wouldn’t plot.
Keep in mind, this is the first time – EVER – that I’ve encountered those dreaded words, “Route unavailable.” It would not be the last. I would reach Proyooe LW-E D11-3 at 23:36 (times for these events are thanks to EDDiscovery) and start my run into the Abyss.
The Abyss… how to describe it. Imagine being dropped in a maze, where you can’t see the walls, where you can only see a few turns ahead of you. The first shock came just as February 7 began; I found myself at Chao Thae ZF-R C4-0… and there was no way to go forward. I ended up having to backtrack and find another way.
Welcome to the Abyss. I found a second dead end at Chao Thae PJ-X c28-0 (found at 0:53); eventually, I got into an odd habit. Don’t go as far as the route plotter will take you; only go a certain length, then stop and reassess. It made for slow going, but that’s the Abyss.
I admit that I made a mistake, though. In my initial assessment of Beagle Crossing, the analysis suggested that it was better to go out 100-200 ly east of 5000 rather than go straight in or west; I went west a couple hundred ly while going into the Abyss, and ran into difficulties as a result. I slowly made my way further east, and found the road easier.
I specifically remember the system Syneayae HQ-G d10-5. If I could, I’d call that system “The Oasis at the End of Hell”. I’d generally indicated in my notes that, at about 61200 north of Sol, the Abyss was largely over and I could continue on the Carina Sagittarius Arm. I reached that system at about 2:37; I’d been in the Abyss for three harrowing hours, and I’d made it through.
There is nothing like the feeling of coming out of the Abyss into the Arm, and you’re finally able to plot routes again. After all of that frustration, after all the tearing your hair out… you get through, and you can plot again, and suddenly the universe makes sense again. The routes take longer than typically found around inhabited space – maybe 30 jumps per 1000 light-years, which is a lot for an Anaconda – but it beat not having a route any day of the week.
That said, I never thought I would encounter Zeno’s Paradox so perfectly. The final run to Beagle Point felt like a perfect example of that. After all, once you get back onto the Carina Sagittarius Arm, there’s still over 7000 kylies to go. And, even though you can plot routes again, those routes seem to take forever. 7000 kylies became 5000 kylies, became 3000 kylies, became 2000 kylies…
My plan in the arm was to make a beeline to Ceeckia CY-I B29-0; CMDR Stulli posted an excellent route from that system to Beagle Point. I finally encountered three straight unscoopables about 700 ly before there; it’s interesting how suddenly things I took for granted – like being able to detour to find a scoopable – become a lot more worrisome in such a sparse area.
On reaching Ceeckia CY-I B29-0… if you haven’t figured this out by now, sometimes odd thoughts come to mind at times. At the very end of the climb to Mt. Everest, there is a place called the Hillary Step; it’s a vertical climb, but it’s only about 12 meters high. It’s the last major obstacle before the summit.
Is it possible to get system Ceeckia CY-I B29-0 renamed the Stulli Step? Can someone get that done?
At any rate, at that point, it would take a catastrophe not to make it. I found that my high jump range meant I could plot major sections of the route in short order; Zeno’s Paradox kicked in again. I could plot straight to Ceeckia VE-M B41-0; from there, I could plot straight to Ceeckia UP-N C23-0.
From there, it was three jumps to Ceeckia ZQ-L C24-0.
At this point, once I arrived at Beagle Point, paperwork set in. I was trying to set a time; I opened the galmap to show the clock, and took a screenshot. Next comes calling up Sol on the galmap, to indicate just how far I’d gone. Then come the selfies – all the little screenshots to take to commemorate the event.
And then… well… time to explore. Maybe find a star system or a planet that doesn’t have someone else’s name carved on it; maybe find a star system a little further, one more river to cross.
I’m still out here, for the moment. Not sure when I’ll be going back. Debating whether or not to go over to Myeia Thaa JI-B D13-0 and push the distance a little more, maybe explore and try to find an ELW somewhere around here…
That said, there’s an odd contradiction that comes with exploring, one that I’d encountered intensely while neutron star farming. There’s a desire to explore… but there’s also a desire to cash in the discoveries. There’s also another record I’m tempted to go after; the round-trip record for a 65k trip is 20 days. At the moment, I have about 17 days to make it back and go for that record, so…
Anyway, we’ll see. I’ve had some fun discussions since completing the event; some of the links – and my additional thoughts – are attached. Encountered some fascinating explorers out there, some of whom are doing things that shock even me. One of the more interesting involved a discussion asking commanders if they were “straight-line explorers”.
I am most definitely a “straight-line explorer”. I’m just trying to figure out where that line goes now.
In closing, I wish good luck and safe travels to all those seeking to find out where the road ends, while secretly hoping it never does. (After all, isn't that was the quest for 65k is all about?)
Links:
My initial announcement to the 65k club
The "Straight-line explorers" link.
Pictures:
Launch
I prefer to keep my HUD blue, because the last thing wanted on a long flight is an eye-searing orange HUD; that said, it sometimes makes reading the clock on the launch difficult. So I took a screenshot of the opening system, Asellus Primus, from the Galmap.
Got just a little too close to the star on a couple of occasions; that said, it gave me this great shot to look at.
Is there a petrol station or a Fuel Rat nearby? (Fortunately, the system I was leaping into was scoopable.)
Abandon All Hope, Ye Who Enter Beagle Crossing...
The destination - Beagle Point.
Did I leave the oven on?
I wanted to take a picture of almost everyone in the galaxy. I think I may have missed a couple, though.
time on February 5, and eventually finished at 05:55:59 on February 7, completing the trip in a total of 32 hours, 41 minutes, and 59 seconds. The entries faded out over time as fatigue set in; this journal is composed of some of those entries, as well as post-race thoughts on the second part of the journey: the trip through the Abyss, and the journey through the end of the arm to Beagle Point.The initial entries:
***
Started at 21:14:00 E
Time, February 5, 3302. Was an annoying start, as it required three attempts. Damaged the ship going out of the gate first attempt; second attempt, got interdicted after the first jump, while I was switching from inhabited-space to uninhabited- space mode, and took some damage from that.Still, on my way. I know it’s going to take at least 24 hours, and possibly upwards of 30. When you factor in things like a bum shoulder, a nasty cold, and working today, thinking I can do a run from Asellus Primus to Beagle Point is this side of crazy.
That said, despite this, I’m feeling pretty good. As long as I don’t have to talk, I should be fine. Was losing my voice earlier today.
22:30: Realized something interesting. Actually, recalled an episode of Top Gear, where the hosts realized they were driving on the North Pole – in other words, quite literally No Man’s Land – and, thus, could legally drink and drive. Promptly picked up a shandy from the fridge.
22:38: Landing between two white Fs, at Smojai EH-D d12-12. Or, to put it another way, “F” this. My ship was not happy.
This run, to be honest, is a lot different from an A* run. The A* run, for all its physical endurance aspects, also requires a brutal efficiency, to cut every second off of an 8-hour run. This run, on the other hand… it’s just not going to happen to keep up that brutal efficiency for over 24 hours. So, I’ll stop for a minute to go to the bathroom; I suspect I’ll make at least one food run over the course of the session. The priorities are just different. The goal is to just keep going. It’s the difference between a marathon and the Long Walk. The marathon is against time. The Long Walk is… can you keep going, be the last one standing?
I’m in the Long Walk. And it’s my job to be the last one standing.
23:00: The problem with a run like Beagle Point is that, well… I’m not sure how much I want to talk about it. This is, quite literally, the upper limit of what can be done. No one has ever finished a run from the inhabited zones to Beagle Point in one sitting. No one. There are definitely no guarantees for this. So, given the uncertainty there… how much should I talk about it beforehand?
I know what things are going to be like 18 hours or so from now, when I run into the Abyss. I’m going to be exhausted; at that point, it will have been at least 24 hours, possibly more, since I had any sleep. The plan is to go in at Beagle Crossing, which will give a nice cushion against being blocked, but still. It makes the test of navigating the core on the A* challenge seem like child’s play.
Because of this… I’ve been a bit reluctant to come out and say, “Hey, I’m going to do a Beagle Point Run This Weekend!” I certainly started that way – I’d initially intended to make this run two weeks ago, then had the joy of injuring my shoulder to the point that I literally could not lift my right (piloting) arm. The two weeks in between – a run last weekend was impossible, which turned out to be a good thing once the servers went down – I used to get a better idea of what I’m facing.
Getting an idea of the plots beyond Beagle Crossing is enough to sober anyone’s ego.
Since then, I’ve been a little leery of announcing the details of my plans before all of this is done. Other than friends I’m in chat with, the only announcement I could give was on the A* board:
“Headed out for a little drive. Let's see how far I can go.”
When going to Beagle Point, that’s the only thing that really can be said.
1:30, February 6, 3302: I’m reminded of one of the fascinating parts of A*. An inexperienced commander will invariably say that the core is the most difficult part. An experienced commander, on the other hand, thrives in the core, because there is no waste there: the ship goes as fast as possible, and isn’t held back by the sparseness of stars.
For some reason, the words “dancing between raindrops” comes to mind to describe running in the core.
One thing to note: The comments are likely to get loopier as time goes on. That’s probably the first comment I’ve had that qualifies as loopy. It will by no means be the last.
2:45: One of the most challenging decisions any CMDR faces on a long run is how much fuel to hold. I’ve never been a fan of one-jump setups; I’ve usually used two- or three-jump setups on my A* runs. It was a dilemma as to whether or not to go two or three; eventually, I decided on a three-jump setup. This meant a slightly-less “normal” jump range of 39.8 rather than 40.4; on the other hand, there have been a couple of cases so far where I’ve encountered consecutive unscoopables – but I have yet to have three consecutive unscoopables.
3:36: First glitch of the night. The one thing multiple A* runs has prepared me for is how to deal with glitches. In this case, the hiccup was the graphics card. Only a couple of minutes lost. If this was an A* run, I wouldn’t be happy; at the moment, though, it’s less than nothing.
4:10: You ever have one of those moments where you wonder if everyone else’s mind is as random as your own? I should start cataloguing some of the odd things that cross through my mind as I make this run.
Let’s see… so far…
The 1989 Tour de France, and whether or not it’s better to keep statistics in the middle of a run, or just go all out and see how things end up
The feasibility of making an A* run in my Imp Courier, just so I can officially christen the ship.
Why there aren’t more metalheads in academia
Strategies for finding songs that you don’t know the artists for.
The fact that sci-fi works are generally considered unrealistic more for sociopolitical reasons than technological ones
Interesting “what-if”s of music – what if McCartney and Lennon had taken Lorne Michaels’ open offer to reunite on Saturday Night Live, what if Dave Mustaine hadn’t gotten himself kicked out of Metallica, what if radio station WDAI in Chicago hadn’t fired Steve Dahl (look up Disco Demolition Night for an understanding of its effects)
What is the one ship in E
that I have the least use for? (Candidates: Type-9, Asp Scout, Vulture)The reason why the 24 Hours of Le Mans has multiple-driver teams
5:14: Eight-hour mark. The best way to put it… in the first few hours of the run, I had no problem with drinking alcohol. Now, I don’t dare. Haven’t pulled out the caffeine yet, but I suspect that will come about 4 hours or so from now. I’m somewhere around the 23kylie mark at the moment – by the amount I have to go in terms of distance, roughly a third of the way there.
Incidently, if you’re using a 39.8ly Anaconda, remember the magic number 985. Once you’re in the ‘major’ core area, it’ll come in handy.
6:14: Just passed the 25900ly mark. A* is now officially an empty circle on my sensors. I would have had a sub-9hr time if I was going for A* – not bad for a three-jump setup with ADS and DSS, with no planned route.
One easy way to be confused: Apparently, a few thousand light-years to the east of A*, there’s a sector called Stuemaea. For those of us who’ve spent too much time around Stuemeae…
6:30: I really should add a playlist to this diary. For that matter, is there a discussion as to the best music for E
deep racing / exploration? Music presented for your approval for a Beagle Point run:
The Downeaster “Alexa” - Billy Joel
Asu e no Brilliant Road – Angela
Jedi Drinking Song – Dust Rhinos
Leave Everything Behind – Amaranthe
Don’t Look Back - Boston
7:36: Just passed 30000 ly.
8:34: Just hit 32800 ly. As the photon flies, I’m closer to Beagle Point than to Sol. I’d be a fool to think I’m more than halfway there, though.
9:14: 12-hour mark. At the 34800ly mark; 909 jumps to get here.
9:22: Just had my first FSD malfunction. Will probably need to stop for a few minutes for repairs in a bit.
11:11. Leaving the Core at about 39.5 kylies. I’m going to miss the core – especially as there’s still 18 kylies to the start of Beagle Crossing. Finally pulling out the caffeine.
12:14. 15-hour mark. At 42.2 kylie mark. Taking a break to get breakfast (for me, is 7 AM.)
14:27: Second glitch. Pretty sure it’s on the cable-model end, which sucks. Still, given
***
Needless to say, around the 7:00 point, there wasn’t a lot to say anymore. It was simply endurance; get it done, get it done. Where it stopped, the last entry… this was about the point when my mind said, “You’re going to go to sleep now…” I took a nap for a few hours, then started up again around 19:00.
I don’t have any comments directly from that point, because at that point I was doubting whether I would release any of this. It’s like Hunter Thompson’s chronicle of an LSD trip without any of Thompson’s writing skill. That said, I can give a post-mortem chronicle of what happened.
I stopped at about the 47k mark, about 10k shy of where Beagle Crossing begins, and continued to make my way to the beginning of Beagle Crossing at Proyooe LW-E D11-3. The first shock… I was probably about 800-900 ly from that point, tried to plot a route directly to that system… and it wouldn’t plot.
Keep in mind, this is the first time – EVER – that I’ve encountered those dreaded words, “Route unavailable.” It would not be the last. I would reach Proyooe LW-E D11-3 at 23:36 (times for these events are thanks to EDDiscovery) and start my run into the Abyss.
The Abyss… how to describe it. Imagine being dropped in a maze, where you can’t see the walls, where you can only see a few turns ahead of you. The first shock came just as February 7 began; I found myself at Chao Thae ZF-R C4-0… and there was no way to go forward. I ended up having to backtrack and find another way.
Welcome to the Abyss. I found a second dead end at Chao Thae PJ-X c28-0 (found at 0:53); eventually, I got into an odd habit. Don’t go as far as the route plotter will take you; only go a certain length, then stop and reassess. It made for slow going, but that’s the Abyss.
I admit that I made a mistake, though. In my initial assessment of Beagle Crossing, the analysis suggested that it was better to go out 100-200 ly east of 5000 rather than go straight in or west; I went west a couple hundred ly while going into the Abyss, and ran into difficulties as a result. I slowly made my way further east, and found the road easier.
I specifically remember the system Syneayae HQ-G d10-5. If I could, I’d call that system “The Oasis at the End of Hell”. I’d generally indicated in my notes that, at about 61200 north of Sol, the Abyss was largely over and I could continue on the Carina Sagittarius Arm. I reached that system at about 2:37; I’d been in the Abyss for three harrowing hours, and I’d made it through.
There is nothing like the feeling of coming out of the Abyss into the Arm, and you’re finally able to plot routes again. After all of that frustration, after all the tearing your hair out… you get through, and you can plot again, and suddenly the universe makes sense again. The routes take longer than typically found around inhabited space – maybe 30 jumps per 1000 light-years, which is a lot for an Anaconda – but it beat not having a route any day of the week.
That said, I never thought I would encounter Zeno’s Paradox so perfectly. The final run to Beagle Point felt like a perfect example of that. After all, once you get back onto the Carina Sagittarius Arm, there’s still over 7000 kylies to go. And, even though you can plot routes again, those routes seem to take forever. 7000 kylies became 5000 kylies, became 3000 kylies, became 2000 kylies…
My plan in the arm was to make a beeline to Ceeckia CY-I B29-0; CMDR Stulli posted an excellent route from that system to Beagle Point. I finally encountered three straight unscoopables about 700 ly before there; it’s interesting how suddenly things I took for granted – like being able to detour to find a scoopable – become a lot more worrisome in such a sparse area.
On reaching Ceeckia CY-I B29-0… if you haven’t figured this out by now, sometimes odd thoughts come to mind at times. At the very end of the climb to Mt. Everest, there is a place called the Hillary Step; it’s a vertical climb, but it’s only about 12 meters high. It’s the last major obstacle before the summit.
Is it possible to get system Ceeckia CY-I B29-0 renamed the Stulli Step? Can someone get that done?
At any rate, at that point, it would take a catastrophe not to make it. I found that my high jump range meant I could plot major sections of the route in short order; Zeno’s Paradox kicked in again. I could plot straight to Ceeckia VE-M B41-0; from there, I could plot straight to Ceeckia UP-N C23-0.
From there, it was three jumps to Ceeckia ZQ-L C24-0.
At this point, once I arrived at Beagle Point, paperwork set in. I was trying to set a time; I opened the galmap to show the clock, and took a screenshot. Next comes calling up Sol on the galmap, to indicate just how far I’d gone. Then come the selfies – all the little screenshots to take to commemorate the event.
And then… well… time to explore. Maybe find a star system or a planet that doesn’t have someone else’s name carved on it; maybe find a star system a little further, one more river to cross.
I’m still out here, for the moment. Not sure when I’ll be going back. Debating whether or not to go over to Myeia Thaa JI-B D13-0 and push the distance a little more, maybe explore and try to find an ELW somewhere around here…
That said, there’s an odd contradiction that comes with exploring, one that I’d encountered intensely while neutron star farming. There’s a desire to explore… but there’s also a desire to cash in the discoveries. There’s also another record I’m tempted to go after; the round-trip record for a 65k trip is 20 days. At the moment, I have about 17 days to make it back and go for that record, so…
Anyway, we’ll see. I’ve had some fun discussions since completing the event; some of the links – and my additional thoughts – are attached. Encountered some fascinating explorers out there, some of whom are doing things that shock even me. One of the more interesting involved a discussion asking commanders if they were “straight-line explorers”.
I am most definitely a “straight-line explorer”. I’m just trying to figure out where that line goes now.
In closing, I wish good luck and safe travels to all those seeking to find out where the road ends, while secretly hoping it never does. (After all, isn't that was the quest for 65k is all about?)
Links:
My initial announcement to the 65k club
The "Straight-line explorers" link.
Pictures:
LaunchI prefer to keep my HUD blue, because the last thing wanted on a long flight is an eye-searing orange HUD; that said, it sometimes makes reading the clock on the launch difficult. So I took a screenshot of the opening system, Asellus Primus, from the Galmap.Got just a little too close to the star on a couple of occasions; that said, it gave me this great shot to look at. Is there a petrol station or a Fuel Rat nearby? (Fortunately, the system I was leaping into was scoopable.)Abandon All Hope, Ye Who Enter Beagle Crossing...The destination - Beagle Point. Did I leave the oven on?I wanted to take a picture of almost everyone in the galaxy. I think I may have missed a couple, though.
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