Even though I was tired and a little cranky, I stopped what I was doing and turned around to say hello. Here was a very well dressed older gentleman and his wife, out for a sunset walk. Taking the air, one might say. The gentleman was a fan of my show, Meteorite Men, asked if we were filming in the area, and when the new season would air. I replied that we were filming in the area, and that the new season would start in November on Science. I then asked him where he was from and he said: “Nowhere.” I thought the man was being glib until he added that he and his wife were both retired and now permanent RV-ers. They wandered the country, spending a month here, a week there, and generally taking their own sweet time to see things that interested them. Apart from the appalling cost in gasoline, it seemed a very attractive lifestyle choice. While I could immediately relate to their peripatetic nature, I felt somewhat envious that they were able to see things at their own relaxed pace, because when we are on the move, we are really on the move, and there is no time for sightseeing.

We began filming for Season Three of Meteorite Men in late June, just in time for the big burn, exactly as we did last year, even though we all hoped we would start earlier and avoid some of the summer heat, but we have to deliver the shows when they are needed. This time around I saw seven countries, six states, many airplanes, many meteorites, two eagles, two sunburns, two near cases of dehydration, two quite severe cactus-related injuries, one amphibious vehicle, one giant nest full of giant storks (and I mean giant), one broken toe, one concussion, one Russian cop who looked exactly like Benny Hill, and plenty of other amazing sights.

Steve and I returned to a couple of favorite sites where we’ve hunted in the past, and also broke exciting new ground, visiting some meteorite locations, and even a country or two that we’d never seen before. We continued to receive valuable academic help from the Center for Meteorite Studies at ASU, and the University of Edmonton in Alberta. The highlight, for me, was doubtless working with our new off-road recon truck, “The Mule.” In an earlier and simpler form it’s been my meteorite hunting vehicle for years, and has actually already appeared in several episodes. But, for our third season we thought the MM needed a rougher, tougher, go-anywhere vehicle, and “The Mule” was born. All-Pro Off Road made the crash bumpers and bed rack for me, my friends at Dan’s Toy Shop put the whole thing together, and 1-Day Paint and Body in Tucson, mixed the color for me specially, because I can be a bit nitpicky about such things. In fact, the story of desinging and building the Meteorite Men truck is so much fun it should probably have its own blog entry later on.

So, here I am back in my office with a broken toe, looking forward to seeing what post-production has done to the new episodes. We had a great team this year. Executive Producer James Rowley directed the first four international episodes, and Jeff Fisher handled the other four. Nice guys, and smart. Our director of photography, Per Larsson, has won two Primetime Emmys and pretty much invented Amazing Race, so I expect the look of the show to be nothing short of dazzling and spectacular. For the last few episodes we were lucky enough to work with cameraman Joe “Boots” Parker, who not only lives here in Tucson, but is a former U.S. Army Ranger, and a wildlife photography specialist. What a superb choice he was for us, and I made a new friend in town. Senior Producer Sonya Bourn returned to keep the entire box of monsters on the road and relatively injury-free, once again, and is the only member of the road crew who made it through all three seasons.

Good people worked hard, traveled far, and brought their expertise to bear. Meteorite Men Season Three will premiere on November 28 at 9 pm on Science. Did we find something rare and amazing in every episode? I really can’t remember. Or, if I can, I am proably not supposed to tell you.

Tune in and find out. I think I can promise you one thing—you won’t be bored.

Text © by Geoffrey Notkin. Photgraphs by Suzanne Morrison © Aerolite Meteorites LLC
All rights reserved. No reproduction without written permission.

Some sweeping elitist views contain at least a nubbin of truth; could this be one of them? In a hi-tech world where Macs and page layout programs can be acquired cheaply and easily, and where print-on-demand (POD) outfits and vanity presses will happily crank out your life story, American novel, or self-help guide, almost anyone can be an author if they have spare time and some extra cash. Painfully simple paint-by-numbers design programs like Microsoft Publisher mean even a smart 10-year-old could theoretically put out an (admittedly short) autobiography grousing about how his parents forced him, daily, to suffer at a proto-Fascist private school, while forbidding him to stay up late and watch the sexy and alluring Diana Rigg in The Avengers on TV (I am quoting from my own childhood here). How tedious would such an account be for the average reader?

I doubt a lad with only a decade’s worth of life experience could share much in the way of insight or enlightenment, and consider how poor the design and typesetting would be. Actually, I don’t have to consider that because I’ve seen plenty of self-published books that have been put together so horribly I likely could have done a far better job myself, even as a ten year-old. Yet, I maintain that there is nothing wrong with self-publishing; quite the opposite in fact. It is a homespun artistic uprising akin to the magnificent and tumultuous punk rock revolution of 1976. Punk was a generation-defining social movement which accidentally gave birth to the fanzine—a Xerox-nourished zygote that slowly grew and mutated—decades later—into independent publishers and POD. The startling realization that you could do things yourself—put out your own record or publish your own counterculture “magazine” (I use the term loosely as most fanzines at the time were hand folded and stapled stacks of photocopied pages)—was fueled by the true original indie labels like Stiff Records in London. Without Stiff we would not have the punk anthem “Neat, Neat, Neat” by The Damned or My Aim Is True by Elvis Costello, and that would be a loss to the arts too bitter to contemplate.

Improved tech, and advances in low-cost printing allowed this proletarian putsch to alter the way in which words on paper were made available to the public, as did the epiphany that—truly—everyone has a story to tell and anyone can write a book. Well, I take that back. I’m not sure that many of today’s American high school teenagers can complete a sentence without using the word “like” at least twice, but you get my drift. Self publishing means Random House or Penguin don’t have to sign off on your book in order for it to live.

Passionate though I am about giving freedom to words, and much as I delight in the nuances of the English language, and even though I have encouraged many friends (and my World War II veteran father) to record and preserve their unique experience of existence through do-it-yourself literature, I will also be the first to admit that many self-published books are not that good. In fact, many are downright diabolical. Hence, no doubt, the comment from the nice lady organizing the authors’ event in New York. In the old days, if a publisher went to the considerable expense of putting your book out, some professional, somewhere, with some knowledge of writing thought it was good, or would at least make some money. To self publish a book today, the only person who needs to think it’s any good is the author, and that can be dangerous.

I could have replied to the New York book event lady and listed the 100-plus articles that I’ve written for “real” publications, or my contributions to other “real” published books, but why bother? I also might have explained that I could, quite easily, have found a recognized publisher for my recent book: Meteorite Hunting: How To Find Treasure From Space, but I didn’t want to. There were three reasons for this hard line attitude: artistic control, timetable, and money.

As the first two seasons of my television series Meteorite Men started airing around the world and we began the preliminary plans for a third season, I realized there was one thing that many or most of my viewers wanted. They yearned to find their own meteorite. After being deluged with literally thousands of emails from hopefuls who thought they had discovered a valuable space rock in their yard or driveway, we put together an online guide to meteorite identification in the hope that we’d be able to curtail those inquiries through education. Answers to basic questions about meteorites, along with simple tests that the would-be space rock hunter could carry out at home, were clearly presented on my flagship website. The idea backfired disastrously. The meteorite ID guide became so prominently indexed by Google that it did nothing but generate more inquires. Lots of them. So, if all these people wanted to find their own space rock I would show them how to do it, and how to tell the difference between valuable meteorites and common terrestrial rocks.

Between the end of the Meteorite Men Season Two premieres and the start of production for Season Three we experienced a lull back at company HQ. A lull for us is much like a busy 40-hour work week for your regular office employee, but—by our standards—things were quiet. My staff amuse themselves by pointing out that every time we appear to have things under control at Aerolite Meteorites LLC, and our work load slows to a relatively normal pace, I quickly dream up a new and massive project which, once more, puts us back under the gun. And so it was with the book. I can’t help it. I don’t like to be idle.

I would be on a tight timetable. If I was going to produce a book, it was vital that it be in hand by late January of 2011, when the annual gem show opens in Tucson. Tens of thousands of rockhounds would descend upon the Baked Apple during those first two glorious weeks of February; many of them would be Meteorite Men fans and, hopefully, some of them would want my book. So, I rose early each morning during that comparatively lazy December and January with the firm intention of writing two chapters per day. Some days I only managed one chapter, and some days I edited existing chapters, but I worked at a furious pace, and I got it all done, start to finish, in 31 days. As I am a contrary fellow, the very first thing I did was design the cover. The first chapter I wrote is the last one in the book. Next, I wrote the Afterword and then the Acknowledgements, which go at the beginning (some writing teachers like to poke fun at would-be authors who write a list of “thank yous” first and then never get any further with their book, so I did that just to spite them), and finally the middle part, which required some real work.

My editor friends, Dr. Larry and Nancy Lebofsky, kindly agreed to suspend their own personal lives in order to assist me in completing my high-speed magnum opus. I gave them just over a week to work through the entire manuscript, and I felt that was a bit like dropping an anvil on a friend’s pet, but I’d made up my mind that the book’s official publication date would be February 1—my birthday (you can do fun things like that when you are the publisher). The mother of my Director of Operations is an English teacher who happens to be a hell of a good copy editor. She went over the manuscript three times (I did pay her), and my excellent friend Chris Cokinos, author of the brilliant work The Fallen Sky: An Intimate History Of Shooting Stars, wrote a marvelous introduction pretty much overnight. My Meteorite Men co-host, Steve Arnold, read through the whole thing in a day or two, made some helpful suggestions and wrote a fabulous back cover blurb for me. My friends really pitched in to help.

The Meteorite Men attend a book signing during the Tucson gem and mineral show. Photo by Suzanne Morrison.

Imagine having an agent take your manuscript to one of the big publishing houses in New York and say: “Hey guys. I need you to have this edited, typeset, and printed in a few weeks. Get to it.” That’s an amusing mental image. The major publishers take months, or sometimes years, to move a book from manuscript to final product. It’s okay, they’re big companies, I’m not knocking the way they run their businesses, I just don’t want to deal with it. The typical first-time author will be assigned an editor which he or she may or may not like, and a cover will be designed by some in-house artist who does nothing but dream up covers for books he or she hasn’t read. If you are lucky, you might be shown the design before it goes to press, but as a new author don’t be under any illusion that you’ll be asked for input on how your book should look. This fact, more than any other, explains why I do things myself.

In addition to being a television personality and a science writer, I am an art director. I have a degree from New York’s famed School of Visual Arts, and I started publishing underground fanzines way back in the punk era. In all modesty I already have all the skills: writing, photography, design, typesetting, indie publishing experience, and something of a knack for guerilla promotion. As such, why on earth would I turn my book over to some big corporate entity, let them re-write it the way they want, and decide on a cover design they like. If I did sign away by book, I would then hope desperately that some publishing exec might choose me as one of the few authors they would bother to actively promote that quarter and, finally, I would sit around and wait for a meager royalty check to maybe arrive one day. Forget it. I demand complete artistic control over my product and—in the event that it is successful—I want the money too.

And there—would-be self publishers—is the canary of truth in the coal mine. You do the work, you take the risks, you make the money; if your book sells. And mine did, eventually.

I have a great print manager; really great. His name is Guy Rovella of Aardvark Press here in Tucson. If you want to print business cards, flyers, brochures, a lithograph, a laminated card with a wacky hologram on it, or if you are a detail-oriented perfectionist publishing a complex full-color book about how to hunt for meteorites, you should go to Guy. He is the best.

Guy shopped around and got me a super deal on printing my books. With 100 pages, full color throughout, a glossy and hefty cover, lustrous paper, and full bleeds, I wasn’t cutting any corners. I could have done the job for less in Hong Kong, but I believe in keeping work here in the USA, and I wanted to be able to sign off on proofs and be in regular contact with the printer. The last time I was involved with a job that was printed in Hong Kong, we received 1,000 expensive, seawater-damaged hardbacks that some wastrel had stowed in the bottom of a leaky old freighter. You get what you pay for.

I am very meticulous, and all my design projects have to be “just so,” or they have to be redone. I don’t accept jobs that are “okay.” I expect them to be as near perfect as can be. In this instance, I was particularly concerned about certain matters related to the binding and positioning of some images, and I distinctly remember Guy talking to the printer by telephone, while he and I were both in my office looking at the color proofs. “Please tell them to pay particular attention to these issues,” I said, and Guy relayed that to the printer in front of me. “Oh yes, we’re aware of those things, everything will be fine,” the printer replied, and then—about ten days later—when 2,000 copies arrived on a big palette in my driveway, everything was not fine. Numerous copies had been misprinted, many were poorly bound, and some were missing pages. I wanted the entire run reprinted, but I had a serious problem: the gem show was opening in a few days and I absolutely had to have copies on hand for that. I told the printer that I wanted the job redone, but that I would pay for the good copies I had received, of which there were enough for us to get by. No, that wasn’t going to work, the printer said. I had to either keep all of the books, or reprint all of them and there wasn’t time to get reprints to Tucson for the opening of the show. There was some talk of lawyers, and I think someone discussed visiting the printing plant with a sledgehammer (not me), and we eventually arrived at a semi-amicable agreement: I would keep all of the 2,000 books, pay a reduced price for them, discard the misprints, and the print shop would do another run of 2,000 for the original agreed-upon price. I didn’t really want to order that many books, but the plan reduced my per-copy price, so it seemed like a workable idea. Imagine my surprise, then, when the second 2,000 books arrived and exhibited all of the same flaws as the first batch.

Eventually, after much negotiation, and some books being trashed and some being reprinted, I ended up with about 4,000 copies at a rather favorable price. The print shop people actually were very nice, and mistakes do happen. You just don’t want them happening when you’re on an extra-tight deadline, and footing the bill yourself.

The response to Meteorite Hunting at the gem show was splendid. I did two book signings, and Steve Arnold was kind enough to sit in on both of them. We sold many copies, and received only one complaint. A 50-ish rockhound guy with sunken cheeks, and stringy grey hair that looked like seaweed, came into the showroom and complained to me about the $25 cover price. “That’s a lot of money for a 100-page book,” he griped. I was into, probably, my eighteenth consecutive 14-hour day in the showroom by that point, and may have been a bit cranky. “Really!” I replied. I vigorously explained to him how many mega thousands of dollars it had cost me to print the book, not counting the expenses related to editing and photography, the 31 consecutive days I spent writing it, the problems with the printers and defective copies and reprints, the rush to get the project done in time for the gem show, and I likely would have carried on for quite a while longer, but he was—by that point—already cowering, and attempting to slink out of the showroom. “It’s cheap at the price!” I barked after him as he disappeared through the showroom doorway. Not our finest customer service moment, but really, we are usually much nicer, and I suppose the incident illustrates that I may not take criticism very well when it comes to a labor of love, and I am over tired. Oddly enough, he came back the following day and bought two copies, at which point we shook hands, I gave him a little free meteorite, and all was well with the world.

A distribution company specializing in science and natural history books asked to work with us, and they are now getting copies of Meteorite Hunting into mom and pop rock shops and indie bookstores across the company. They are good people and have already moved 1,200 copies. More power to ‘em. Readers liked the book and I was pleased. I collected a page full of unsolicited customer testimonials which we put on the website. We are most of the way through the 4,000-ish copies that we ended up with. I suppose I shall have to reorder soon, and will doubtless go over some other hurdles to keep the title in print, but it was so worth it—expenditure, long hours, headaches and all. I have three other book ideas in the works, and two friends now want me to publish their titles.

Should the giant publishers be the arbiters of taste for all of us? Certainly not, but they are important businesses, struggling to stay afloat in a digital age of video games and texting, and they have helped shape and educate our world by making great works of literature, science, travel, memoir, history, and humor available to millions.

Should Mrs. Beck from upstate New York be allowed to self publish her possibly dull memoir about a barefoot-and-pregnant housewife shacked up with a cheating husband, even though she hasn’t taken any formal writing classes? Should the 40-something nerd living in his mom’s basement have the opportunity to save up some bucks from his job at the fast food dump and self publish his ten-years-in-the-making fantasy epic? Of course they should! Will these books be any good, or sell any copies? How the hell should I know?

The beauty of self publishing is you get to do it the way you want, when you want. In the unlikely event that your book is a big success, the money will also go into your pocket instead of into the corporate vault of some major publisher who probably views your life’s work as nothing more than this month’s product.

As it turned out, I couldn’t attend the book signing and panel in New York anyway, as I was committed to appearing at another promotional event at the same time. Long live the revolution.

Rather than discuss the myriad contributions made to the science of meteoritics by commercial meteorite hunters and dealers, Mr. Broad preferred to talk about “an illegal sales market” and “looters.” The argument was made that “The rampant looting of meteorite sites and skyrocketing prices for the fragments . . . dramatically reduce who can get samples to do the research.” That statement is so inaccurate that almost anyone in the field of meteoritics—commercial dealer, collector, or academic—will dispute it wholeheartedly. The recovery of meteorite specimens by commercial outfits has dramatically increased the amount of material available for study. This isn’t my viewpoint, it is a universally recognized fact.

Anne M. Black, President of the International Meteorite Collectors Association (IMCA), wrote a detailed and comprehensive rebuttal, which was published on the IMCA website, and in which I am quoted. With the express permission of the IMCA, I am reproducing that rebuttal in its entirety:

IMCA Insights – April 2011
Rebuttal to “Black-Market Trinkets From Space”
Article written by W. Broad and published by the
New York Times on April 4, 2011
by Anne M. Black

NEW YORK TIMES
The ads are for chunks of meteorites, bits of asteroids that have fallen from the sky and are as prized by scientists as they are by collectors. As more meteorites have been discovered in recent years, interest in them has flourished and an illegal sales market has boomed — much to the dismay of the people who want to study them and the countries that consider them national treasures.

“It’s a black market,” said Ralph P. Harvey, a geologist at Case Western Reserve University who directs the federal search for meteorites in Antarctica. “It’s as organized as any drug trade and just as illegal.”

RESPONSE
Not so! Every year in February the whole Meteorite Community descends on Tucson for two weeks. Within just one hotel, Hotel Tucson City-Center (formerly InnSuites) I counted ten meteorites dealers with large banners and ads on all the Bulletin Boards, and this is just one hotel during a show that takes over the whole city of Tucson, a city of about 1 million inhabitants. Other large mineral shows around the globe (Munich, Tokyo, Sainte Marie aux Mines) also have a large number of meteorite dealers. And the Ensisheim Show is only about meteorites, and this year will be the 12th year that show has brought in collectors, dealers and a number of scientists in that small town in eastern France. And if you do not go to shows, you cannot miss the meteorites on eBay, 5,731 of them as of right now (although, to be fair, quite a few of those are really meteorwrongs!). You will find meteorites have been sold by the largest and most reputable auction houses (Sotheby’s, Heritage, Botham-Butterfields) for quite a few years now. There is even a rather successful show on television, Meteorite Men, on the Science Channel. So if this is your idea of a “black”, “illegal” market it certainly is the most widely publicized of them all.

To be fair, I called Dr. Harvey and asked him about his comment, and he told me that he was only referring to the Gebel Kamil meteorite, and “speaking of illegal activities…illegally obtained meteorites.” He also asked me to reassure the meteorite community that his comment was certainly not meant as a general statement about the whole Meteorite market. Here is what he authorized me to publish:

“To be most specific, my ‘black market/drug trade’ comment was a small part of a response to Mr. Broad’s expressed incredulity at the volume of meteorites that have been removed from Northern Africa and the scale of operations implied by Gebel Kamil online sales. Unfortunately the author used a quote from me for dramatic effect; leaving out 40 minutes of context and leaving the erroneous impression that I think all meteorite collectors are criminal. Nothing could be farther from the truth – I have made a career out of meteorite hunting, working within some of the strictest legal constraints (look up NSF regulation 45 CFR Part 674, RIN 3145-AA40 in the US’s Federal Register, Vol 68, No. 61, p.15378 for a little light reading). I have no problems with legal meteorite collecting and I am constantly impressed by the great number of private (non-governmental) meteorite hunters who have chosen to impose severe constraints on themselves where legal frameworks are not clear”.

NEW YORK TIMES
The discovery of a rich and historically significant meteorite crater in southern Egypt, just north of the Sudanese border, has shown the voracious appetite for new fragments. Just as scientists appeared to be on the cusp of decrypting the evidence to solve an ancient puzzle, looters plundered the desolate site, and the political chaos in Egypt seems to ensure that the scientists will not be going back anytime soon.

The mystery began thousands of years ago with Egyptian hieroglyphs, which refer to the “iron of heaven.” Archaeologists have long debated whether the Egyptians made artifacts from iron meteorites that fell to Earth in fiery upheavals. The main evidence came from ancient knife blades of iron that had high concentrations of nickel — a rare element in the Earth’s crust that was considered a signature of extraterrestrial origin.
But doubts grew as investigators found terrestrial sites rich in nickel that ancient peoples could have mined. And scientists in Egypt never found an impact crater and a nearby lode of meteorites.

Then in June 2008, Vincenzo de Michele, an Italian mineralogist and former curator at the Natural History Museum of Milan who had explored the Egyptian desert for nearly two decades, was scanning the area on Google Earth when he saw something unusual.

He told Mario Di Martino of the Italian National Institute for Astrophysics in Turin, and together they formed an expedition that surveyed the site in February 2009. To their delight, the desolate area bristled with iron meteorites — more than 5,000 of them — and they named the crater Gebel Kamil, after a nearby mountain.

The team members signed a note of discovery and put it in a bottle at the crater’s bottom. The find was a first. It was the only meteorite crater ever discovered in Egypt — its mouth 15o feet wide — and the team vowed to keep it confidential as long as possible.
But a return expedition in February 2010, found that the bottle had disappeared. The secret was out.

A few months later, in June, meteorites from the crater were for sale at a show in Ensisheim, France. In a review, the International Meteorite Collectors Association called them arguably the world’s “most fascinating new iron find.” The Egyptian rocks, it added, “received a lot of attention.”

RESPONSE
In that review of the Ensisheim Show of 2010, it is also stated that “a lot of decent size shrapnels” were available. According to the Meteoritical Bulletin Database, about 1,600 kilograms of shrapnel fragments have been recovered. I mentioned that fact to Dr. Harvey who expressed surprise at that number: obviously he had not been told that the pieces were that plentiful.

From the Meteoritical Bulletin Database:

NEW YORK TIMES
Popular or not, the meteorites were taboo. In Egypt and elsewhere, scientists say, it is illegal without a permit to remove meteorites from a country.

RESPONSE
Not so! Egyptian law bans the exportation of all artifacts, regardless of whether they are made of ceramics, iron, or Libyan Desert Glass. So an artifact made of meteoritic material (an iron knife for instance) cannot be exported but any mineral in its natural shape can. In fact all the sellers of souvenirs around the pyramids or in Luxor are well aware of that. When you approach them, they are eager to tell you that all their pieces are authentic, found by themselves in a long forgotten tomb far in the desert. But when you remind them of the law, they quickly change their tune and tell you that those pieces are authentic copies of authentic pieces found by themselves in a long forgotten tomb far in the desert. It is actually rather amusing to get them twisted like pretzels around their words. I discussed this with Dr. Harvey who expressed surprise, as he had been assured that the exportation of meteorites had been entirely banned by Egypt.

In fact there are few known, published, specific laws about the searching for and exportation of meteorites. An article on this subject was published in “Meteoritics & Planetary Science” in 2001. It is a good starting point. It does state for instance that India decided that all meteorites found there were the property of India in 1885, and that Canada and Australia require export permits (Canada since 1977, Australia since 1986); but the article is ten years old and therefore outdated. One obvious example not mentioned in that article: Argentina banned all exportation of meteorites as of January 1, 2008.

Incidentally, in the United States, when a meteorite falls or is found on private property, it automatically becomes part of that property; it is the principle of accretion. And the owner of that property is free to do whatever he pleases with it.

Obviously, there may be other laws, rules and regulations regarding meteorites around the world, but finding a precise, accurate and absolutely up-to-date text is a daunting exercise. Anyone is free to attempt it but, warning, there are mostly rumors, hearsay, and unverifiable reports.

NEW YORK TIMES
Yet scavengers have disseminated them widely: on Star-bits.com, one of many sites that sell a variety of meteorites, the 10 fragments with rich patinas are said to be from Gebel Kamil. The costliest of the 10 — a two-pound rock, just large enough to cover the fingers of a man’s hand — is priced at $1,600.

Eric Olson of Star-bits defended the marketing as legitimate and beyond Egyptian law. “I didn’t buy them from the Egyptians,” he said in an interview. “I bought them second- and third hand.”

The scientists say they have relatively few samples compared with the booming illicit sales.

“We have at our disposal a very limited number of specimens to study and exhibit,” said Dr. Di Martino. He and other members of the Gebel Kamil crater discovery team, he added, don’t have the money to buy them on the flourishing black market.

Dr. Harvey of Case Western Reserve said the quandary applied to the scientific community as a whole. The rampant looting of meteorite sites and skyrocketing prices for the fragments, he said, “dramatically reduce who can get samples to do the research.”

RESPONSE
Let’s consider a few facts here:

First, the rule created by the Meteoritical Society: 20% or 20 grams, whichever is less, of a newly-found meteorite is to be sent to a special lab for analysis, classification, and publication in the Meteoritical Bulletin if you want to know what it is you have found. And according to the latest figures, 40,264 have already been published and 12,342 are still being studied. That’s a whole lot of meteorites!

Also, I was recently told by one meteoriticist that she had “well over a year’s worth of work” on her desk at this time. Yes, meteoriticists have been flooded with material and it is not rare to have to wait a year (or more on rare occasions) for a response. Some institutions even had to stop accepting new material. So I would not say that the number of samples for research has been reduced; in fact, what I see, and what I am told by scientists, would indicate a glut of specimens.

NEW YORK TIMES
The black market has exploded in size mainly because of a rush of new meteorites arriving from North Africa and the Arabian Peninsula. Starting in the late 1980s and 1990s, explorers and nomads discovered that dark-colored meteorites stood out against flat, featureless areas covered by sand and small pebbles. And dry desert air helped preserve the rocks from space.

The pace of collecting began to soar after explorers scrutinizing the sands of Libya discovered a number of meteorites from the Moon and Mars. These rare types formed during cosmic smashups, eventually fell to Earth and fetched high prices.

The collectors association, founded in 2004 in Nevada, now has hundreds of members around the globe. And while some traders deal in legitimate exports, many do not.

RESPONSE
Since I could be prejudiced when it comes to the IMCA, I will let Geoff Notkin, co-host of Meteorite Men on the Science Channel, author of Meteorite Hunting: How to find Treasure from Space and hundreds of articles, answer this comment:

“The worldwide community of meteorite dealers and collectors chose voluntarily to form the IMCA (International Meteorite Collectors Association), in order to establish high standards of conduct and ethics; it was not forced upon us. A sweeping statement accusing the IMCA of illegal activities is not only brazenly inaccurate, it is also a malicious insult to the organization’s many members who have made remarkable discoveries, and made extraordinarily generous donations to the science of meteoritics. The vast majority of hardworking academics in the field recognize the invaluable, and ongoing, contributions made by those who have a commercial interest in meteorites. Any researcher with a realistic understanding of the meteorite world embraces the opportunity to work with hunters and dealers who regularly bring new and important finds to academia, rather than likening their efforts to the drug trade.”

And again a few facts: Officially our association is only a little over 6 years old, and we have presently 365 members all over the globe. And all those members have volunteered to live by our Code of Ethics as condition of membership. Among other things that Code requires of members that they: “…agree to abide by all Federal, State and Local Laws and regulations related to the purchase, sale, trade or other related transactions concerned with the securing or disposing of all Meteoritical material.” Whether any of those laws is beneficial or harmful to meteorites is an entirely different discussion. Those laws do exist and must be respected.

NEW YORK TIMES
One buyer expressed remorse after reading about scientific angst over the thriving market. “I’m very ashamed,” the buyer wrote on a blog. “I’m surely a part of the problem.”

Still, many collectors defend the hobby as advantageous for scientists, saying the market is producing many discoveries and creating many opportunities. Amateurs often turn to experts for analysis and authentication and, in return, share the extraterrestrial haul.

“The scientists do not have time to go hunt for their own meteorites, so somebody has to do it for them,” said Anne M. Black, president of the collectors association. “It’s common sense.”

Even some scientists applaud the new market.

“I see it as a good thing on balance,” said Carl B. Agee, director of the Institute of Meteoritics at the University of New Mexico. “It’s beneficial mainly because of the huge diversity of meteorites not previously known about and not accessible.”

RESPONSE
Thank you, Dr. Agee, and I am delighted we finally met this year during the Tucson show. I am sorry you missed Dr. Carleton Moore and Dr. Laurence Garvie from ASU, and Dr. Arthur Ehlmann from Texas Christian University, who are frequent visitors to the Show; as one of them told me: “The Tucson Show! It is Christmas all over again!” And thank you for posting this on two meteorite-forums:

“Since I am quoted in this article, here’s my reaction to it. The reporter seems very confused, in that he lumps together a story about the Gebel Kamil crater in Egypt and the legal meteorite trade (NWA) based primarily in Morocco. During the interview with him I spent a fair amount of time trying to explain to him how beneficial the NWA’s have been for planetary science research. For example, I mentioned how the number of rare Angrite meteorites has more than doubled due to African finds – a huge enhancement to our understanding of the early solar system, and of course I mentioned all the lunars and Martians, and other rare classes. I told him that I was not terribly well informed about the Gebel Kamil crater situation, but in my opinion the highest priority would be to protect the impact structure from degradation as these are quite rare on Earth. I also told him, that the Gebel Kamil meteorites on the other hand, are probably not hard to come by, and I’m sure if I wanted to study one for research, I could get a sample at a reasonable price or even get one as a donation from a collector, which museums benefit from frequently. I did get the feeling that he was hoping to hear something negative from me. As such he ended the interview rather quickly, but said something like ‘oh, the NWA meteorites sounds like an interesting story, I need to come back to that at a later time’. So of course I was disappointed to see what mess the final NYT version was.”

Yes, collectors and amateurs do routinely help the scientific world. Just a few examples:

One long-time collector I know has already made plans and signed an agreement so his entire collection will go to Harvard when he is no longer of this world. Another one has already donated some rare, valuable pieces to the Field Museum in Chicago. Personally I have loaned rare material I was lucky enough to obtain to Dr. Alan Rubin at UCLA, Dr. Ted Bunch at NAU, and Dolores Hill and Dr. Ken Domanik at the University of Arizona in Tucson.

Finally, I called Dr. Laurence Garvie, Curator of the meteorite collection of Arizona State University and Editor of the Meteoritical Bulletin. He was clearly appalled by what he had just read in the New York Times. He promised to write to the Editor, and allowed me to quote him: “Of course! We absolutely need the private sector. Some of the most interesting meteorites, Acfer 094, NWA 5000, SAU 493, etc. were brought in by private hunters. Those are meteorites scientists are drooling on! And look at those angrites, we had 2, not counting Antarctica, now we have 15!” He also noted that getting loans is never a problem, “I could get a Gebel Kamil if I was interested, I would only have to ask.”

NEW YORK TIMES
At stake for science in the rush for meteorites are secrets of the cosmic bombardment, the development of the solar system and possible clues to the existence of extraterrestrial life. Last month, scientists hotly debated whether a new meteorite study produced convincing evidence of microscopic aliens.

As for the Gebel Kamil crater, Dr. Di Martino said it was futile to try to save its otherworldly riches from the looters.

“Considering the social, political and geographic situation there,” he said of the remote corner of southwestern Egypt, “it will be completely useless to protect the area” — unless the authorities put in “a permanent garrison of marines and/or a minefield.”

He and the team of scientific explorers are still eager to revisit the site, mainly to better date the crater. But they worry that the political chaos in Egypt may further endanger their find.

The turmoil has already resulted in the delay and possible cancellation of a new expedition to the Kamil crater and raised doubts about the security of a collection of the meteorites in Cairo.

With the secret out, the scientific team announced its discovery in July 2010 and detailed its findings in the February issue of Geology.

There, the team hailed the discovery as a potential link to the “iron of heaven” and estimated the impact site as less than 5,000 years old.

Luigi Folco, the expedition leader and meteorite curator at the University of Siena, said in an interview that if the age estimate is correct, “ancient Egyptians living along the Nile could have seen this major event.” The craggy rock from space is said to have exploded with the blinding flash of an enormous bomb.

Dr. Di Martino said the allure for amateurs was not the advance of history but the pleasure of owning the latest find.

Since it’s a new meteorite, he said, “the collectors like to have a piece of it.”

RESPONSE
Yes, Collectors take, but they also give, and give a lot.

So, in conclusion, no, the Meteorite Market is not a black or illegal market, it is wide-open, highly publicized and thoroughly legal. Of course, as in any segment of the economy there are a few rotten apples in the mix, but it is also self-policed by an association that, I hope, will keep on growing. And it is a market that is not simply accepted by the scientific community, but is very much welcomed.

Anne M. Black
President, IMCA Inc.

To my delight, Mark asked if I might be interested in appearing at the TC.com Voice of Tucson booth during the weekend and, of course, I said yes. Enthusiastically. So, my staff and I packed a big meteorite, and many small ones, a few boxes of books, and some photos and collectibles into the Aerolite Meteorites truck and headed down to the U of A campus in preparation for two 1 to 5 pm stints on Saturday and Sunday. Somebody told me that 80,000 people were expected—that’s roughly the same number of spectators in attendance when I saw Joe Cocker, Echo & The Bunnymen, and Ian Dury & The Blockheads at the massive Glastonbury Festival in the UK! Are there really that many people here interested in books in this modern world of social media? Good news if it’s true.

I was expecting some traffic around the campus, but was not prepared for complete mayhem: Closed streets, police barricades, and more bumper-to-bumper car jamming than I have ever seen in Tucson, and that includes the gem show. We eventually waded through the morass of vehicles, dolly-dragged our books and space rocks past the crowds of pedestrians, and met up with Team Voice of Tucson.

One of the issues with appearing at big public events is that I often miss things I’d like to participate in, because I am manning the booth. That’s not a complaint, just a fact. I had hoped to catch a couple of science fiction writer panels, but once I started talking to viewers of my TV series, meteorite and science enthusiasts, and fellow writers, I found myself happily engaged for the rest of the day. The was, however, one event I was not going to miss: The featured lecture by astronomer Mike Brown, author of How I Killed Pluto and Why It Had It Coming—a lively and entertaining speaker. We had a brief chat after his presentation and Mike seemed truly delighted that he’d made his large audience laugh. No surprise there—he talked about his work with a gently self-deprecating humor that was both engaging and illuminating.

Another high point was a surprise visit to the TC.com booth by author and illustrator Eric Rohmann. He was extremely complimentary about my TV show, and went on to relate an extraordinary tale about how he’d found a genuine meteorite in Illinois, at the advanced age of nine, and later had it positively identified by the Field Museum in Chicago. He certainly had me beat! I was in my thirties before I found my first meteorite. As we were chatting I pulled out a copy of my book and began inscribing it to him. “Oh, we’re going to do the book exchange thing now, aren’t we?” he asked, in a jovial manner. “We don’t have to do that,” I replied. “I’m just giving you a copy after hearing that amazing story.”

Eric then asked if I happened to like squirrels, so I freely admitted that Beatrix Potter’s The Tale of Squirrel Nutkin has always been a favorite of mine. I added: “And with a name like Notkin, you can imagine what the kids called me at British school.” So, he inscribed a copy of his gorgeous children’s book, Last Song, “For Geoff Nutkin.” I’ll treasure it.

The author at the 2011 Tucson Festival of Books, with a favorite space rock. Photograph © Andy Morales

The low point of the event was our first-ever meteorite theft. Well, to be entirely fair, I should really say attempted theft. On the Saturday afternoon, a family with five unruly kids descended upon the booth. These were the type of kids who are compelled to rub and grind their hands over every piece of merchandise within reach, crease book covers, and knock things on the ground. I noticed that one little boy palmed a small iron meteorite—worth about $50—from my table and then walked off in an overly-elaborate nonchalant manner. I called out to his parents: “Hey, your young man is walking off with a meteorite he hasn’t paid for!”

“Is this true?!” the father boomed (to his credit he believed me, instead of instantly lashing out at me for accusing his son. Perhaps it was regular behavior for his kid). Sure enough, once the kid’s sweaty palm had unfurled, the stolen space rock appeared. The dad dragged him back to the booth and forced him to apologize. He looked pretty shellshocked and I bet he was in for a decent spanking later on. Richly deserved in my opinion.

Another surprising and not entirely useful event was the inexplicable performance, on the main Arizona Daily Star stage, by a teenage rock band, at 4 pm on Sunday. I’ve been a professional musician for more than two decades, so don’t think I’m being a fuddy-duddy. I’m a punk rocker too and nobody likes the guitar feedback more than I do, but really, at a book fair? Organizers please note: There is a time and place for everything. Our booth was adjacent to the big stage and as a result of the band attempting to rock out we were unable to conduct any business (or even talk) for the last hour of the festival. Suggestion: Next year, if you want to feature some rock ‘n’ roll—and there’s nothing at all wrong with that—please ask the nice people at Plush if they’ll host a post-festival gig for you, instead of blasting the passers by, who were doubtless expecting a somewhat more literary experience. Odd thing, but bookworms and rockers don’t usually fit together that well.

Towards the end of the afternoon an older lady came up to the booth, looked at our display table for a moment, then asked if the meteorites were free (as least this one asked, instead of just palming one). “No,” my charming sales manager replied. “Meteorites are rare and valuable. Can I show you anything, perhaps a copy of Geoff’s new book?” To which the punter answered: “No, I’m just here for the free schwag.” Thank you for participating! One of my staff members also commented: “Most of the people here don’t seem that interested in books.” Whether or not that was true, they were out on a sunny day, at least looking at printed words, and that beats Xbox in my book. Oops, accidental pun.

I really had a blast at the festival, so don’t think I’m knocking it with my little anecdotes. I enjoyed the whole thing immensely, and I plan on returning next year when we will hopefully have less theft, no rock ‘n’ roll, and I may even be able to finally catch up with author Charles de Lint.

The author wishes to thank fellow Voice of Tucson blogger Andy Morales for permission to use his photograph.

What I think is that the gem show leaving Tucson would be much like gambling leaving Las Vegas, or the Empire State Building abandoning New York. It’s not going to happen.

My showroom at the Hotel Tucson City Center

February’s annual event has grown—from rather humble hometown beginnings in 1955—into the largest gathering of rockhounds in the world, and then some. About 45 separate shows run consecutively during the first two weeks of February, and if you live here in town you can hardly miss the tents, forklift trucks, dinosaur skeletons, amethyst cathedrals, and the relentless excitable, jolly-pirate carnival-like atmosphere that takes over the Baked Apple for nearly a month. Even though most of the shows run for just about fourteen days, there is preparation time, receiving shipments at customs time, load-in time, set-up time, cocktail hour, break-down time, load-out time, taking-down-the-tents time, so—for the vendors at least—gem show shenanigans go on for three to four weeks.

Our crew filming us at a book signing for an upcoming episode of "Meteorite Men"

This was my fourteenth consecutive gem show, and my fifth as a vendor. Each year I tell myself I’m going to take it a little easier, and I state: “It couldn’t possibly be any busier than last year,” but it always is. This year we did twenty consecutive 12-hour days, at two different locations. Our main display of high-end meteorites and collectibles was situated at the Arizona Mineral and Fossil Show at Hotel Tucson City Center (né InnSuites), with a second outdoor booth at the charmingly scruffy and bargain-friendly Tucson Electric Park Show. On top of the two selling locations I had two book signings (my new book Meteorite Hunting was published on February 1, which also happens to be my birthday), three radio interviews, a weekend of shooting with our production company for an upcoming episode of Meteorite Men, production meetings, regular meetings, two tents destroyed by freak winds, a birthday party, an awards ceremony, plus the requisite buying, selling and trading of space rocks.

The Tucson gem and mineral shows are a rockhound's delight

Something that has grown tremendously in popularity within my clockwork universe is the “Is this a meteorite?” request. Enthusiastic rock hounds who, perhaps, watch my TV series, and have also been out patrolling the perimeter, bring in unusual rocks for me to look at. It really is fun in moderation, but too many strange rocks does interfere with commerce, and it’s especially complicated when I inform the finder that he or she doesn’t have a meteorite, and then they start with the “But . . .” part. If someone asks for my advice, I’m happy to give it, but please don’t argue with me afterwards (It has only happened twice; most visitors are very gracious).

Please know that the last thing I want to do—ever—is snap at one of my fans, and so far I haven’t, not once. My dear old friend, musician Anne Husick, who was also my roommate for many years, and who considers me an impatient sod will doubtless scoff at this, but it’s true. And, anyway, aren’t roommates always the most critical? It’s a bit cliché-ish, but without loyal viewers I don’t have a show, and I really do like Meteorite Men fans. They are cool, and smart, interested in all kinds of things, and I enjoy getting to know them. Very occasionally, however, there comes a near-meltdown moment.

Signing a young fan's cast at the Tucson Electric Park

That point, for me, came during the second week, shortly after I sustained $550 in damages to two display tents down at the TEP. In order to prevent this happening a second time, we bought some extra-massive steel stakes with which to secure our new tents. My sales manager at TEP, Beth, called to tell me that the ground was too hard and they couldn’t get the stakes in, and Beth doesn’t give up easily. So, I left my main showroom and drove down to the TEP with a 12-lb sledgehammer. I was already tired, a little burned out, and my mind awash with the many pending deals and events. I may have become slightly defocused. I parked my truck, got the sledge, and started trying to pound in the stakes. The ground was like tempered concrete, and if such a thing doesn’t exist, it should. I was getting nowhere, so I rolled up my sleeves, put on my heavy work gloves and started wailing on the stake, with the sledge, and found it to be quite a good stress reliever. In the middle distance, someone was taking photos, and murmuring: “Look, it’s the guy from that meteorite show.” Not my most flattering moment.

I was out of breath, hot, making progress, and wondering if I was going to have the wherewithal to give all six of these stakes a solid pounding, when a young man walks right up to me—while I am swinging the sledge—with a rock in his hand, and asks me if it’s a meteorite. That was the closest I came to a meltdown. I’d already looked at about a hundred meteorwrongs—and one genuine meteorite—and was a little tired of doing that, but was still focused on being gracious to viewers who—after all—only want to know if they have found a bit of cosmic treasure. I said to the young man: “This isn’t the best time, could you please wait until I’ve finished, and then I’ll be happy to look at it,” while I was, in fact, thinking to myself: “Don’t get close to a Meteorite Man when he’s using a heavy sledge!”

It was not a meteorite, but I did get the stakes in.

Steve Arnold and the author doing a live interview with famed Tucson radio host John C. Scott

It has now been almost three weeks since we closed up shop for another year, and we are still not fully caught up. One of the problems with immersing yourself in Gem Show World is that regular company business, and normal day-to-day orders continue, unaware that we are holding a giant meeting of rockhound minds here in Tucson. Tired as we may be post-show, we have to suck it up and deal with the waiting orders. This year we also had four hundred books to ship out. Business is good, and it is great fun, so I am not complaining, but next year I really am going to try and take it easy and not be as busy. Just like gambling is going to leave Las Vegas, and The Empire State . . . well, you get the picture.

And this afternoon, I shall journey down to the excellent Tucson Festival of Books, where I will be signing copies of my new work, displaying space rocks, meeting viewers, and promoting our own Voice of Tucson. If you think you might have found a space rock, bring it on down. I promise not to snap at you, and I am definitely leaving the sledgehammer at home.

All photographs by and © Suzanne Morrison  www.backcountryphotographyaz.com

Of course, Steve and I had already known for a little while, but we’d been asked to sit quietly on our excitement and keep the news to ourselves. After all, an announcement in Variety is quite a bit grander than me just shouting from the balcony outside my showroom. Variety had been promised an exclusive on the Season Three announcement and I was under specific instructions not to say anything to anyone. In the age of Facebook and Twitter even one mention to one of my viewers could have resulted in the news spreading through the gem show, and then I would have been told to stand in the corner—an experience I was all too familiar with from British public school. I was, therefore, in a happy, yet awkward situation.

The Meteorite Men on location. Photograph by Pablo del Rio Larrain © Aerolite Meteorites LLC

With many Meteorite Men fans visiting the showroom daily, we kept a friendly and unofficial tally of the most popular questions, which were: “Are you doing a third season?” “Where can I get your show on DVD?” “Where are you going next?” and “Is this rock I found a real meteorite?” Oh, and “Can I please go hunting with you?” was in the running too. When viewers take the time to come visit me, and compliment me on the show, and are clearly enthusiastic about my work, and space rocks, and science programming in general, I really don’t feel comfortable lying to them. So, I found myself—for those few rather inconvenient days—dancing around the answer to Question Number One and saying things along the lines of: “We hope to hear news any day now,” or “We are cautiously optimistic,” and in some cases, “If you’d like to see more Meteorite Men please let our friendly network, Science Channel, know.”

So, when the Variety piece came out on the 8th, I was able to relax a little, fully embrace the news, and share it with our viewers. Debbie Myers, the radiant general manager of Science Channel telephoned to congratulate us, and I greatly enjoy Debbie’s company, so that was the best part for me. I told her that I couldn’t imagine having a better boss, and she told me that we should be very proud because most series don’t make it to a third season.

Filming in Kansas with Paul Sr. of "American Chopper" fame. Photograph by Suzanne Morrison © Aerolite Meteorite LLC

During Season Two of Meteorite Men Steve and I had our own cameraman and soundman. As he and I typically split up while hunting for space rocks, and head off in opposite directions, doing things our own way and at our own speed, we each had a separate camera/sound duo assigned to follow us. You end up sharing a lot of powerful moments with those guys: The excitement of a find; the unpleasant surprise of nearly stepping on a snake; the fatigue and disappointment of a long, unsuccessful day. Many times, my cameraman would stop me for a minute, and ask some perceptive off-the-cuff questions: “How are you feeling about this particular site Geoff?” or “What are your tactics going to be for the last hour of daylight?” Meanwhile, the poor soundman has to listen to me blather away, literally for months on end—and through headphones no less! That is dedication to your work.

I was a professional musician for many years, and I discovered that traveling around the world with a film crew is very similar to the band experience. The team works long days, shares moments of hardship and exuberance; there is socializing in bars after hours and, of course, the requisite retelling of amazing stories from other shoots and adventures.

When filming for the season is over, it can be quite sad. We had basically the same crew for six of the eight Season Two episodes and you get to know people, somewhat, when you work with them twelve hours a day, for long months on the road. When I said goodbye to Second Camera operator Tim Murphy in the shopping center of Heathrow Airport, it was the sixth country we’d visited together during a four-month period. We had camped in below-freezing temperatures inside a giant meteorite crater; consumed steaming hot coca leaf tea in the wilderness of the Atacama Desert (entirely legal there, I might add), pulled a 223-pound space rock out of a green field in Kansas, and excavated gaping holes deep in an ancient forest north of the Arctic Circle. Those are not everyday experiences, and I found myself liking and admiring these hardworking men whose job it was to make us look as good on screen as they could manage. I remember saying to Tim, as we shook hands, that I had particularly enjoyed his gentle sense of humor, and I hoped we would cross paths again.

The author under the bluest of skies, at an abandoned train station in the Atacama Desert. Photograph by Steve Arnold © Aerolite Meteorites LLC

Making quality television takes a lot of time. The gaps between seasons can be several months in length. Once filming is complete, scripts need to be written, footage edited, sound effects and music collected, narration recorded, and science facts checked. While those tasks are being carried out by the specialists in post-production, the others— the cameramen, soundmen, producers, and directors—still have to eat and pay rent, so they will likely take the next available project, and we don’t know if we will ever have the opportunity to work with them again.

We expect to commence filming Season Three in the late spring or early summer so, before too long, production will start “staffing up.” That is, hiring people who will work exclusively on that season. For my co-host and myself, it’s a bit like starting at a new school: You have some idea of what you are going to be doing, but you don’t know who you’ll be doing it with. I am a huge movie buff and I love the process of putting a program together. I’m also a photographer, have done a bit of independent film making, and used to work as an audio engineer. As such, I have learned a lot from our talented crews, and I’ve also shared plenty of laughs with them. A favorite moment in Chile was when one of our soundmen took me aside and quietly said: “It’s really fun to hang out with you and Steve. We usually aren’t allowed to talk to the talent.” I found his revelation shocking! What TV host would travel around the world and not want to share some drinks and good humor with these hardworking and highly entertaining professionals?

Fun on the road: Some serious off-roading in Australia's Northern Territories while filming Season Two (and I was driving!). Photograph by Steve Arnold © Aerolite Meteorites LLC

In a month or two I’ll be meeting the Season Three team, and we shall begin contemplating long journeys to strange places, in search of even stranger rocks from space. My job, at the moment—and Steve’s—is to research possible sites, sift through old science papers and reference works, and try to figure out where we should go in order to continue the hunt.

In my spare time—that being a rather narrow window between the end of Season Two and the beginning of the 2011 gem show—I wrote a book. And that reminds me that I forgot to include one of those very popular questions in my list and it was: “How can I find my own meteorite?” I put the answers to that in Meteorite Hunting: How To Find Treasure From Space, which was published on February 1. By very kind invitation of The Voice of Tucson, I shall be appearing at the Tucson Festival of Books this weekend. I’ll have copies of the new work available for sale and signing, and I hope to meet some of the Meteorite Men viewers who reside here in town. Come on down and meet a genuine space rock (and I don’t mean me—I’ll have some fabulous meteorites on display). I will be at the TucsonCitizen.com booth Saturday and Sunday from 1 pm to 5 pm. The FOB is a great event. If you have not attended before, come along and experience it for yourself. If you care about words on paper, you will not be disappointed.

Last year we were given a tall order by Science Channel: produce six one-hour episodes in seven months. We weren’t quite sure how we’d manage but we did—barely. The final episode was delivered to the network just five days before its air date. Five of those episodes were filmed in the US, and one in Canada. It was exciting, challenging, occasionally dangerous, sometimes hysterically funny, and often exhausting.

Steve and Geoff on location filming "Meteorite Men," June 2010. Photo by Suzanne Morrison.

For Season Two we were given just five months to produce eight one-hour episodes, and five of those were to be filmed overseas. So, since late June, I have traveled more than 60,000 miles; walked on four continents; visited eight countries; seen ten states in the Union plus the District of Columbia; completed over twenty interviews for radio, print and social media; encountered extraordinary wildlife including camels, llamas, eagles, thousands of wild parrots, a lizard the size of a dog, kangaroos, emus, and a three-legged cat. Oh, and we got to guest star on American Chopper.

Our new logo

As Douglas Adams noted in The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy: “How ever fast the body travels, the soul travels at the speed of an Arcturan Mega-Camel.” In other words, while I was filming in the Arctic Circle, my overstimulated brain had not finished processing my adventures in the high Atacama Desert of Chile. While dozing in a tent in the Australian Outback, I had dreams that I was still exploring salt flats in the American West at 103 F, during a previous shoot. A couple of nights ago, I woke up in utter darkness at about 4:30 am (our call time on shoot days was typically 6 or 6:30 am) grabbed my alarm clock and thought to myself: “Which hotel am I in? What time is my flight!” before realizing that I was, in fact, at home in my own bed and there were no more flights. At least for this season.

The Meteorite Men on their Orange County Chopper. Season Two location shoot, June 2010. Photo by Suzanne Morrison.

Only one of our field team from Season One joined us for our 2010 “world tour,” and she—Senior Producer Sonya Gay Bourn—has always been the most indispensable member of the road crew. So, if we could keep just one of the original team, we wanted it to be her. During our first night on location for Season Two, we had a meet and greet with our new director, co-executive producer, director of photography, second camera, sound men, and camera tech. I raised my glass to Sonya and said: “If I found myself in the middle of the screaming wilderness during, say, the 19th Century, with thousands of ferocious warriors descending upon my position—weapons raised for attack—and could only have one person standing next to me, that person would be Sonya.” No disrespect to my stalwart co-host Steve Arnold, and I promise you, he feels the same way.

I have never met anyone like Sonya, and I am quite sure there is nobody in the world remotely like her. Brilliant, sassy, unconventional, striking, fearless, and resourceful, she is also an accomplished director, writer, and former stand-up comic. She also seems to know almost everyone on the planet, well, almost everyone worth knowing. Steve likes to joke that if we got into a serious jam—in the most desolate corner of the world—Sonya would know somebody at the local helicopter outfit and, with the aid of the sat phone and Blackberry from which she is never separated, would arrange an airlift for us in less than thirty minutes.

The Meteorite Men on the hunt. Atacama Desert location shoot, August 2010.

One of my favorite shows on television these days is Animal Planet’s Whale Wars—a gripping documentary series that chronicles the ecological group Sea Shepherd’s hair-raising attempts to curtail illegal Japanese commercial whaling. It’s one of the few programs that holds my attention from the first frame to the last. Those guys have nerves of steel and big eco hearts. Imagine my delight, therefore, when I discovered that two of the brightest lights in our 2010 crew were the cameramen from Whale Wars. We camped together for four nights in one of the most inaccessible parts of the Australian wilderness and they enthralled me—as we sat around the campfire—with harrowing tales of their adventures on board the Sea Shepherd vessels. Now that is a fireside chat.

Photo by Suzanne Morrison

Once I finally returned to my desert home one of my friends asked: “So was it fun? What did you see?”

I paused for a moment—jet lag trying to convince the parts of me traveling at the speed of an Arcturan Mega-Camel that I was still at least partly on the other side of the Earth—then replied: “Everything. I’ve seen everything.”

Meteorite Men Season Two premieres this coming Tuesday, November 2, on Science Channel and Science Channel HD. Air times here in Tucson are 6 pm with a repeat at 9 pm (Cox Digital); and 7 pm with a repeat at 10 pm (Comcast Digital).

In order to offset the hijinks with some serious scientific content, each episode of Meteorite Boyz will find Space Trash and Vesta paying a surprise visit to the Phildickian University in Logan, Utah where Professor David R. Dimmitt—a noted expert on both meteoritics and the influence of hip-hop and piercings on contemporary teen culture—will serve as the duo’s advisor and confidant.

Animal Planet is close behind with their new series Meteorite Dawgz, featuring Brix and Hopper, two meteorite-finding canines who already made their television debut in Season One of Meteorite Men. The show will focus on dog-friendly hunting techniques and locations. Chewie Zee, a spokesperson for Alpo, the progam’s primary sponsor, described Meteorite Dawgz as: “Easily the best thing I’ve seen since Lassie.”

"Meteorite Dawgz" co-star Brix loads equipment into his truck while filming the new series on location. His manager, Sonny Clary, was in the field and unavailable for comment at the time of writing.

Hopper of "Meteorite Dawgz" filming on location with her manager Ruben Garcia

Finally, at least for now, Hallmark Channel has high hopes for its new kid-friendly series Sub-Orbital Cats. The program features the adventures of three astronomically-minded felines—Bonnie, Pesto, and Spike—as they huddle close to giant space rocks looking for warmth and solace. A Hallmark Channel press release describes Sub-Orbital Cats as “A cross between The Incredible Journey and How It’s Made.”

Bonnie Petunia, one of the co-stars of "Sub-Orbital Cats" on the Hallmark Channel

Clearly there is lots of great new television to look forward to this summer. Stay tuned!

So, I returned to San Francisco—a city that I find, at once, relaxing and inspiring. It was my first proper holiday in two years, and these are a few favorite images from a week in and around that lovely city by the bay.

Fisherman's Wharf

The living roof atop the California Academy of Sciences

Haight-Ashbury cafe

Mailbox in Berkeley

Artist Gail Suzanne Weissman in her studio in Marin County

Street market in Chinatown

Cat-friendly sign in people-friendly Bolinas

Sleeping nautilus in the California Academay of Sciences aquarium

Cable cars near Market Street

The Haight

Chinatown

USS Pampanito submarine museum

Public shrine in Bolinas

Crab traps at Fisherman's Wharf

Abandoned resort in Fairfax

Grant Street, Chinatown

Riding the cable cars is still the best part

Photographs © by Geoffrey Notkin. All rights reserved. No reproduction without written permission.

While appearing with the TSO would be enough to keep most performers busy, Carla is also Music Director for the Art.if.Act Dance Project who are holding two AIDS benefit performances at the Stevie Eller Dance Theater on the U of A campus. Artistic Directors Claire Hancock and Ashley Bowman have assembled an impressive list of musicians, professional dancers and choreographers for “Dance in the Red,” tonight, and tomorrow night only.

A silent auction tonight at 6:30 pm will proceed the performance. Among the items donated to the fundraiser are a genuine iron meteorite, along with some rare collectibles from my Meteorite Men TV series on Science Channel. Proceeds will benefit the Southern Arizona AIDS Foundation, as well as helping to support our arts community here in Tucson.

For more information please visit www.artifactdanceproject.com