By+Sue+Wunder

A radio report caught my attention the other day， as it spoke straight to my heart： Cadets1 at the US Naval Academy in Annapolis， Md.， are now required to revisit and potentially revive the ancient skill of steering a ship by the stars.

By the stars—imagine that： looking up at the sky， not down at a screen， so many years after the heavens critical role in guiding mariners has fallen by the wayside，2 first displaced by radio waves， then by modern GPS. Much is gained—but something also lost—in such progress， I think.

Chalk it up to my love of 18th- and 19th-century seafaring tales （reading them is one of my coping mechanisms for life in the landlocked Midwest）， when sailors had only celestial maps for navigation and still miraculously managed to sail the planets vast oceans and even circumnavigate the globe.3

Recent cybersecurity concerns have triggered renewed interest in backup navigational strategies such as stargazing， and simple hand-held technologies like the sextant， so often invoked in Richard Henry Danas Two Years Before the Mast， a tale that chronicles a mid-19th-century merchant ships endlessly harrowing voyage from Boston to California and back.4

I wouldnt wish the harsh conditions of that trip on modern sailors， but I am all for anything that gets people clued in to their compass bearings and travel trajectories without high-tech and often mindless guidance.5

“Is that north or south of here？” Ive asked motel clerks and gas station attendants about a particular address Im seeking in my GPS-less travels.

“Well， its that way，” comes the most frequent reply， accompanied by a pointed finger， and I realize that north， south， east， and west are not familiar coordinates to many people otherwise thoroughly attuned to the local lay of their land.6

To be fair， I havent always been attuned to compass points either. In fact it was not until I was a young adult， lazing on a float in my parents pool on a late summers visit home， and watching the sun dip below the roofline—with a chilling shadow sliding across the water—that I first realized that my childhood home faced due west7. It struck me as odd at the time that Id been oblivious8 to this simple fact， especially since Id begun to be schooled in geology and certainly in compass work. But like so many， Id grown up thinking and navigating in terms of other coordinates， based on familiar streets， rights and lefts， and reference points such as my school， the homes of friends， the nearest playground， and the local shopping plaza.

One day， when a car pulled alongside me on my small bike and the driver asked for directions to a Rochester， N.Y.， landmark， I told him to drive to Kathys house， turn left， and then turn right at my school， and so forth. He smiled wanly， tipped his hat，9 and drove on to more helpful directions， one hopes.

All the while， the sun moved overhead in the deeply familiar curvature10 I never fully attended.

Ive long since become accustomed to finding my bearings on travels in unfamiliar territory11 by the suns position. And now Id love to sit in on a class at the academy to learn to navigate by the moon and stars. Its a skill Ill likely never need to draw upon. Yet just knowing how it would connect me， in a new and profound way， to the historical arc of human experience on this planet.

As for modern sailors， it might just bring them safely home one day， if all else fails.

有一天，一則電臺報道引起了我的注意，報道內(nèi)容正合我意：位于安納波利斯的美國海軍學(xué)院的學(xué)員們現(xiàn)今被要求得重新研究并可能恢復(fù)一項古老的航海術(shù)，即用觀星的方法為船只指引方向。

觀星導(dǎo)航——想象一下：我們終于又要仰望天空，而不是低頭看屏幕了。這么多年來，天空在導(dǎo)航中的重要性逐漸衰落，先是被無線電波取代，繼而又被現(xiàn)代全球定位系統(tǒng)超越。這樣快速的進(jìn)步中，我們得到了很多，但我想，也失去了很多。

之所以這樣想，大概是因為喜歡十八九世紀(jì)的航海故事吧（身處內(nèi)陸的美國中西部，我就靠這些故事神游海洋）。那時，船員只能靠天體圖定位，卻依然能奇跡般地穿越廣袤的海洋，甚至環(huán)球航行。

近來對網(wǎng)絡(luò)安全的擔(dān)憂讓人們重新開始關(guān)注可以替代現(xiàn)有科技的航海策略，比如觀星，或者六分儀之類簡單的手持器械。六分儀在理查德·亨利·達(dá)納的《航海兩年》里的戲份可不少。這本書講述了19世紀(jì)中期，在往返于波士頓和加利福尼亞之間的商船上所發(fā)生的種種可怕的故事。

我倒不希望現(xiàn)代船員回到那么艱苦的條件，只是贊同和支持他們在沒有高科技時還可以借助羅盤指針和航行線路來定位，而不至于抓了瞎。

“這個地方是在這兒的北邊還是南邊？”一次出門，我因為沒帶導(dǎo)航，只好向汽車旅館服務(wù)員和加油站工作人員這樣打聽某個地方。

“喏，就是那邊。”通常他們這樣回答，然后用手一指。由此我意識到，很多人都不熟悉東西南北這樣的方位坐標(biāo)，除非他們對當(dāng)?shù)氐那闆r了如指掌。

老實說，我也并非從一開始就熟悉羅盤上的方向標(biāo)度。說起來，我也是直到成年后才第一次注意到兒時的家是正西朝向的。那是夏末回父母家的時候，我躺在游泳池的充氣游泳墊上，看著太陽落下屋檐，在水面投下寒冷的陰影，突然意識到這個問題。當(dāng)時感覺很奇怪，這么簡單的事實，我竟然一直視而不見，況且那會兒我已經(jīng)學(xué)了地理，對羅盤肯定也有所了解。我和大多數(shù)人一樣，從小就靠其他坐標(biāo)來辨認(rèn)方向，比如熟悉的街道，左手邊和右手邊，還有學(xué)校、朋友的家、最近的游樂場、當(dāng)?shù)氐纳虉龅茸鳛閰⒄瘴铩?/p>

一天，一輛車停在了我的小小自行車旁，司機(jī)問我紐約州羅切斯特市的一個地標(biāo)怎么去。我告訴他先開到凱西的家，左轉(zhuǎn)，到我的學(xué)校之后右轉(zhuǎn)，諸如此類的。他無力地笑了笑，提了下帽檐，開車去找更有用的幫助了，但愿他能找到。

就在那時，頭頂?shù)奶栄刂煜さ能壽E移動著，而我卻從未注意過。

我早已習(xí)慣在不熟悉的地方，通過太陽的方位來辨認(rèn)方向。而現(xiàn)在，我想回到課堂，學(xué)習(xí)靠月亮和星星導(dǎo)航。這項技能我可能永遠(yuǎn)也用不到，但是通過它，我可以以一種嶄新而深刻的方式，和這座星球上人類的歷史軌跡聯(lián)系起來。

而對現(xiàn)代的船員來說，萬一其他方法都不管用了，這項技能起碼可以把他們安全地帶回家。