ARRL 160-Meter Contest
Call: K3ZM
Operator(s): K3ZM
Station: K3ZM
Class: Single Op HP
QTH: Virginia
Operating Time (hrs): 30
Summary:
Total: QSOs = 1531 Sections = 81 Countries = 49 Total Score = 492,050
Club: Potomac Valley Radio Club
Comments:
Okay. Last year was fun, but it looks like order has now been restored to the
universe. See link below.
https://dl.dropboxusercontent.com/u/9479559/Cat%20Kung%20Fu.jpg
Tropical Storm Joaquin in October caused our entire property (except for the
area around the house) to be once again flooded with saltwater. The whole
footprint of all 160 meter antennas, both transmit and receive, was under
saltwater. After the tide receded, our property was left in a very wet
condition.
After a fantastic Thanksgiving luncheon prepared by the XYL, I arrived here on
Thursday afternoon before CQ CW to make repairs. Without the ability to use a
bush hog to clear a path (owing to the extremely wet ground with ankle-deep
water in most areas), I was forced to walk through very dense 8-foot-tall reeds
to get to any of the relevant antennas. My best estimate is that I brushed
through about 4 miles of these very tall reeds during the course of my various
repairs to both listening antennas as well as the transmit antenna, which
turned out to have a blown hybrid coupler. I had trouble even finding the
listening verticals out by the tide pools, the reeds were so dense and tall.
In many places, the water came over my waterman’s boots. Good thing it was
relatively warm. Still, it was exhausting work.
My station is now set up for remote operation (but not yet all the switching of
antennas). A completely unexpected bonus of the remote operation is that the
XYL can be sitting at home 2 ½ hours away, listening on the remote control
head to a broadcast station while I am conducting tests 900 feet away from my
shack here, deep in the reeds, while talking to her on the cell phone. A vital
de-bugging procedure with these multi-element listening verticals is to ensure
that each of them is operating and producing similar output to the others. We
worked together nicely as a team without having to inconvenience her or anyone
else. That was a real bonus.
THE CONTEST
Friday evening was a difficult journey. There was no troublesome QRN, but
signals from EU were not strong and the lower portion of the band was insanely
crowded. I got a poor, slow start this year with a lousy frequency. At
bedtime, I had only 993 total QSO’s and 120 EU’s, with a score of only
about 268,000 points. In retrospect, there is little gained to me as an East
Coast station and potentially much lost in being located in the JA window to
start the contest. Much time and effort was spent trying to copy weak EU’s
on a frequency that was not clear.
I knew I needed to make a comeback the second night. I consoled myself with
the knowledge that, during any given 160 meter contest, there is more or less a
certain number of similarly maladjusted people like me who get on the air, and
that I would have a chance of eventually working them if I stuck with it. This
turned out to be just what happened by the end of the competition.
I never had a tremendous burst during the second night but I stayed with it and
simply soldiered on. When all was said and done, I had caught up to last
year’s score, even if the total number of QSO’s was lower.
The activity to EU during my sunset on the second night was nice with many
contacts. The EU runs at their sunrise were a mixed bag. The good stations
were loud, but the third- and fourth-tier stations suffered from mediocre
conditions. QRN was once again low on Saturday night. I worked a total of 237
EU’s by the end of the contest, which seems low.
Did work TI5, LU, CX, PY, HK and a host of other stations in the Carib rim.
Worked three JA’s the first night. JA3YBK was the first in the log at about
1100Z, followed immediately by JH2FXK. No VK or ZL heard. No KL7. Of course,
I never worked VE8. Worked a couple of KH6’s.
K7CA was much louder at CE1 than he is from NV. Thanks for all the fun in the
past, Al.
Conditions to the West Coast are so strange. On Friday, they started off not
so good, but then they got better later. Then, on Saturday night, they were
difficult once again but at one point later, Calif was simply booming in. I
worked tons of VE7’s in this affair. Many thanks to all the VE’s for
calling in.
Very grateful for all the contacts. Thanks for calling us here at the Secret
Rebel Base.
73,
Peter K3ZM
A CHRISTMAS STORY
December, 2120
Ingrid Guttenfunk sat with her brother in the home of their parents, west of
Dusseldorf. They were preparing to embark on a bold and daring journey.
“Are you sure you want to do this, Karl?” she asked.
“Yes,” he replied. “Someone has to do it.”
The world had changed considerably since their great-grandfather, Dieter, had
developed a keen interest in radio communications and passed it down to his
children and grandchildren. The worldwide conflict of the early 21st century
had left much of the Earth in ruin. A new Global Collectorate had taken
control. In the 22nd century, the freedoms known in many parts of the world
for such a brief time were gone. Spiritual belief was outlawed �" much
less any form of religious expression. The human collective was in control and
the purpose of each individual was to serve its interests.
Indeed, Karl’s and Ingrid’s parents and grandparents had over the years
bestowed upon them a love of the old form of communication known as amateur
radio. Ingrid and Karl had even learned Morse code, although they had never
put it into practice. Communication on the air was not permitted among
individuals. And the radio bands once used by those enthusiasts had also
become a thing of the past. Communication had moved further into the very
short wavelength portion of the radio spectrum, predominantly using ground link
systems and even more elaborate satellite systems. The old-fashioned
ionospheric communication was deemed too unreliable for the Global Collectorate
and offered far too much freedom. They favored control. Allowing individuals
to communicate among themselves was dangerous and to be avoided. It was not
allowed.
Ingrid and Karl were exactly the sort of maverick, individual thinkers that the
Human Collective discouraged. They had developed a plan to reach out to other
such individuals. But who would they be? And where?
“We have to try and reach North America,” Karl had said weeks ago. “It
was once a beam of light and freedom, and Great-Grandfather had many friends
there. If we can get a message to them, someone may be listening.” They
decided that their best option for getting a message to North America was on
the old radio frequencies. And the safest portion of the spectrum to use was
their great-grandfather’s favorite �" the old 160 meter band. The
Global Collectorate would be less likely to monitor such an ancient part of the
spectrum. And they would try to send a message on Morse code, which almost no
one used or was actively aware of anymore.
So, the two of them began a stealthy journey to the northwest. Their
destination was an abandoned facility just outside the old town of Weeze. They
had heard that one of the radio towers from the old great station there was
still standing. This tower would be necessary for them to carry out their
plan. Their great-grandfather had operated from this station with his friends
in the early 21st century, before the dark times. They carried with them a
relatively small, lightweight transceiver that actually had been made in what
used to be known as the United States. They also carried a small 12-volt
battery and a Morse code paddle. Even the possession of such equipment could
be cause for arrest, so they traveled at night alongside the old #57 highway.
They reached the old great station on December 19. To their relief, the tower
they had heard of was still standing. Using a book published by some radio
organization in the old United States, they constructed an inverted L antenna
off of the tower. The remnants of the original radial field were still there.
After two days of work, they had a functioning transmit antenna.
On the evening of December 22, they prepared to make their first transmission.
But on what frequency?
“Remember what Mother was told by Great-Grandfather. The frequency of 1820.5
Khz used to be some kind of international calling frequency. A legendary radio
operator in the early 21st century was a veritable beacon in that portion of
the band. That is the frequency to use.”
They fired up the radio and Ingrid held the straight key they had kept from
their great-grandfather. Her hands were shaking. They moved to 1820.5 and
waited. The sun had set on the East Coast of North America. At exactly 0000Z
on December 23, with her younger brother anxiously watching, Ingrid carefully
sent the following message: JO31 JO31 JO31.
They knew they had to be brief. They were simply trying to alert any possible
listeners. Their formal message would come later.
Patrick Leahy was working in his hobby room in the Maritime region of North
America about two or three hours after sunset. In his work room, he always had
a scanner going. It was set up for the ancient ham radio band of 160 meters.
He did this mostly as a matter of tradition, with a tiny bit of hope mixed in.
His scanner faithfully and continuously tuned back and forth from 1810 khz to
1837. His equipment was really the mechanized equivalent of his
great-grandfather, who used to scan this same portion of the radio spectrum
like a veritable machine.
Suddenly Pat heard something that caused him to jump from his chair. In Morse
code, he heard the characters “31 JO31 JO31.” Pat experienced a burst of
adrenaline. Goosebumps covered his skin. At first, he thought he had imagined
it. He glanced at the clock. It was exactly midnight zulu. Could this be a
coincidence? Hardly. It was too much of a focal point. There were no more
transmissions. Little did he know it, but on the other side of the Atlantic,
Ingrid and Karl Guttenfunk were keeping their transmission to a minimum to
avoid discovery.
Pat Leahy could hardly sleep that night. His mind raced. He was well familiar
with grid squares. They were actually still used by some. He had looked on a
map and found the location of JO31. Could the transmission possibly have been
coming from Europe? His map indicated that their grid square was in the heart
of the old Germany, once a mighty engine of industry and prosperity before the
dark times. He was filled with excitement.
The following day, Pat could not even wait for the sun to go down. After
sunset, he paced the floor. He had already set up a transceiver and was
eagerly waiting for midnight zulu to see if the message returned. What Pat’s
colleagues across the pond did not know was that one of the old transmitting
verticals of his great-grandfather’s four-element array was still standing
and Pat had kept it in operation, just in case.
On the evening of December 23, Ingrid and Karl prepared to make their second
transmission. As the clock turned over to 0000Z, Karl sent the same message:
JO31 JO31 JO31.
Several thousand miles to the west, Pat Leahy could barely contain himself. He
knew it! The same message had appeared at exactly 0000Z. Now he was filled
with questions. What would happen the following evening? Would operating
conditions continue to be favorable? Who are these people?!!
As the sun set on the East Coast of North America the following day, all was
still and quiet. The same was true on the other side of the ocean, where
Ingrid and Karl Guttenfunk prepared to make their final transmission. Their
feelings were a mixture of excitement and peace. It was nearly midnight at
their location on December 24.
Ingrid held the Morse code key reverently. It had been a gift to her
great-grandfather from a patient of his in the former Commonwealth of Virginia
in North America. Karl looked at the clock. At precisely 0000Z, Ingrid sent
the following message not only in Morse code, but in the ancient language of
their old fatherland:
“LASS UNS FEIERN. UNSER RETTER IST HEUTE GEBOREN. FRIEDEN AUF ERDE UND
GOODWILL GEGEN MANNERN.”
In the Maritime region of North America, Pat Leahy was shaking. He had
carefully copied the transmission in Morse code and had quickly translated it
from German. His face broadened into a huge smile. Tears filled his eyes.
“Someone over there has really got some guts,” he said to himself.
Pat Leahy had been ready. He sat at the helm of what had once been one of the
most famous listening and transmitting stations in the history of radio
communications. He then transmitted his own message back to his colleagues,
running full power to the one surviving vertical antenna.
At 0002Z on December 25, Ingrid and Karl Guttenfunk were still sitting by their
transceiver, wondering if anyone had ever heard their messages. Regardless,
they were filled with peace. They had brazenly engaged not only in an attempt
at forbidden communication, but had made an open expression of their faith.
They were not sure what would follow, but they thought ahead to making a return
home.
Suddenly the built-in speaker boomed to life. Ingrid and Karl were utterly
shocked as a very loud signal came thundering through across the Atlantic:
“Roger. Roger. Our Savior is born. Merry Christmas. FN84 FN84 FN84”
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