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Saturn's moon looked like a snowy Utah landscape in my mind. The reality is just as compelling

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Saturn's moon looked like a snowy Utah landscape in my mind. The reality is just as compelling

Twenty years ago today, I watched TV coverage of a probe descending toward the surface of Titan, a moon of Saturn, while outside my home in Utah snow dusted a rocky mountain outcrop I’d nicknamed Titan — both after the moon and a painting of it.

When the probe — named Huygens, for the 17th century Dutch astronomer Christiaan Huygens who discovered that world — transmitted its first pictures, the painted moonscape clashed with the real one. The artwork, from the 1940s, was shown to be utterly wrong.

Chesley Bonestell’s “Saturn as Seen From Titan,” appeared with other planetary scenes in Life magazine, showing what were then considered to be astronomically accurate views of the solar system for the first time. An architectural illustrator and Hollywood matte painter, Bonestell would make a career of space art. His work inspired the very scientists whose research would render many of his paintings factually obsolete.

The Titan illustration is his most famous space scene. In it, Saturn hangs over windswept snow and brown cliffs and outcroppings. The crags frame a glowing Saturn, floating huge, rings nearly edge-on, like a giant’s belt-buckle. Part of the planet is shadowed, blending into the cobalt-turquoise sky. The whole of it is weirdly grand.

What the Huygens probe revealed — a hazy, frigid, dusky-orange world — and what the ethereal painting promised could not be more different.

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The first color view of Titan’s surface, which was returned on Jan. 14, 2005, by the European Space Agency Huygens probe, following processing to add reflection spectra data.

(NASA)

Released from NASA’s Cassini spacecraft, the Huygens probe descended by parachute for some 2.5 hours before surviving its landing. The European Space Agency craft remains humans’ farthest footfall, some 750 million miles away from Earth.

With a thick nitrogen-methane atmosphere, Titan’s sky is choked with organic compounds, dust and aerosols. This is a world of hydrocarbon seas and vistas of sand and icy rocks. The cold — minus-274 degrees Farenheit — is perhaps the only commonality with Bonestell’s view. (The real Titan may not be as romantic as Bonestell’s, but it is promising: In three years NASA’s Dragonfly mission will send a helicopter to explore Titan’s habitability for life.)

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The Huygens-Bonestell discrepancy wasn’t the first time that our visions of the solar system were upended by data. Space exploration is, after all, a form of “ground-truthing.”

When spacecraft first reached Mars in the 1960s, the notion of canals built by Martians had to be discarded, though later images would show clear evidence of surface water. The sci-fi jungles of Venus pictured in pulp magazines? Probes showed instead a dense atmosphere and hellish-hot surface. Our own moon’s mountains, long portrayed as sharp and alpine, are instead muscular and rounded.

Yet our obsolete visions retain value.

In 1944, Bonestell’s illustration offered a compelling answer to the question, “Why explore space?” And even now, knowing it’s far from accurate, the painting’s faint path of light leads us between the cliffs and toward Saturn with this message: If we stay only where we are, then knowledge does too, in or near the frigid lavender of shadows.

Bonestell’s informed-but-imagined solar system evokes the sublime, the sense of being small then empowered in the face of the grand. The scientists who built the Huygens probe that made Titan real were, in their way, doing the same. Both endeavors are examples of the rigors of curiosity born from awe.

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This is not, as critics of space exploration suggest, a form of belittling or ignoring our terrestrial challenges. Quite the opposite. The sublime strengthens our bonds with the cosmos and all it signifies: beauty and dread, imagination and fact, the thrill of discovery and fear of the unknown. Painted or transmitted, other worlds can fire the imagination and at the same time underline the value of the one we inhabit. That mountain outcrop I still think of as Titan reminds me of the painting, the probe, space “out there” and the space I occupy right here on Earth.

Christopher Cokinos is the author of “Still as Bright: An Illuminating History of the Moon from Antiquity to Tomorrow.” He lives in northern Utah.

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Video: NASA Announces Artemis III Crew

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Video: NASA Announces Artemis III Crew

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NASA Announces Artemis III Crew

NASA announced the crew of Artemis III mission, which will fly to low-Earth orbit to test rendezvous and docking maneuvers with one or two lunar landers.

“I am excited to welcome you as the next crew in the Artemis journey to successfully return to the moon — this time to stay.” “I’m honored by the role that I’ve been given. I’m also very humbled by the task in front of us. But first and foremost, I’m grateful.” “So with that, the Artemis II crew, comrade, hands you the baton. You got the controls.” “As you know, we had a significant anomaly at our Launch Complex 36A on May 28. We’ve redoubled our efforts and are moving forward.”

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NASA announced the crew of Artemis III mission, which will fly to low-Earth orbit to test rendezvous and docking maneuvers with one or two lunar landers.

By Alisa Shodiyev Kaff

June 9, 2026

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Santa Monica Mountains’ last steelhead trout survived the Palisades fire — and even had babies

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Santa Monica Mountains’ last steelhead trout survived the Palisades fire — and even had babies

Scientists feared the Santa Monica Mountains’ last remaining steelhead trout were dead, smothered by debris flows unleashed by the Palisades fire.

But the endangered fish surprised them: A team of biologists recently spotted 30 of the rare trout — and 21 babies — in Topanga Creek.

“There was a lot of happy dancing in the creek,” said Rosi Dagit, principal conservation biologist for the Resource Conservation District of the Santa Monica Mountains, which works with public and private landowners to conserve natural resources.

That’s because the steelhead here are endangered, at both the state and federal levels. Once, they swam in most streams of the Santa Monicas, but their numbers plummeted amid overfishing and coastal development. Increasingly frequent wildfire has further stressed their habitat. Topanga Creek, a biodiversity hot spot, is home to their last known population in the mountains that stretch from the Hollywood Hills to Point Mugu in Ventura County.

The trout that were spotted, including this one, are part of a distinct Southern California population that’s listed as endangered at the state and federal levels.

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(RCDSMM Stream Team)

The California Department of Fish and Wildlife spearheaded a complex mission to rescue trout threatened by the Palisades fire that sparked in January 2025.

Time was of the essence. The fire hadn’t yet been fully contained. But rain was on the way, which would sweep massive amounts of sediment from the denuded hillsides into the water. Fish are often killed this way.

Crews stunned the fish with electricity, scooped them up in buckets, trucked them to a hatchery and ultimately moved them to Arroyo Hondo Creek in Santa Barbara County.

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Within days, Topanga Creek was choked with mud. Some assumed the fish left behind were goners.

But in March, the conservation district’s team found four. The following month, when water conditions were clearer, they saw more.

“These fish continue to amaze me,” said Kyle Evans, environmental program manager for the state Department of Fish and Wildlife, who had seen the damage to the creek. “I had seen populations get wiped out in similar situations. So when I heard, I was thrilled.”

Evans surmises the fish that survived were in an area of the creek where less charred material and sediment were swept in.

“These fish likely hunkered down, were hiding under some rocks or places to try to get away from the main concentration of flow,” he said. “And luckily they weren’t buried.”

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The ones that were spotted were fairly small, around 6 to 14 inches. Rainbow trout and steelhead trout are the same species, but with different lifestyles. If the fish remain in freshwater, they’ll be considered rainbows. However, they can migrate to the ocean and become steelhead, where they typically grow larger before returning to their natal waters to spawn.

Topanga Creek hasn’t fully recovered from the damage it sustained, but scientists say it’s looking better. Surveys last year were “so depressing,” Dagit said, with very few animals, and stretches that were essentially transformed into flat roads from all the sediment buildup. Some of the riparian canopy burned right down to the creek.

Then came 32 inches of rain over the last nine months, scouring out and moving sediment, creating deeper pools. Dagit said they recently found newt egg masses for the first time in years, as well as a few adult newts and many frogs. Plants that provide cover are starting to recover.

She provided photos comparing certain pools last year and this year, some dramatically transformed. In September 2025, the Shrine Pool could have been an overgrown hiking trail. This April, it was filled with shallow water.

Shrine Pool, Sept. 2025, left, and the same location, April 2026, right.

The Shrine Pool in September 2025, left, and the same location in April 2026, right, with RCDSMM’s Isaac Yelchin donning a wetsuit.

(RCDSMM Stream Team)

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Topanga Creek is home to another endangered fish, the small but hardy northern tidewater goby, often described as cute. Not long before the trout operation, Dagit led a rescue of hundreds of these fish too. Many were repatriated to the lagoon at the mouth of the creek in a moving ceremony last June.

There’s still the matter of what to do with the trout that were moved to Santa Barbara County last year. Evans would like to bring them home to the Santa Monicas at some point, but isn’t sure if it will happen. On one hand, they could bolster the small, genetically isolated surviving population. On the other, they might inadvertently bring in a disease or bacteria. There is some time to decide. Evans estimates the creek still needs to recover for two to three more years.

For now, the fish are functioning fine in their adopted creek. Experts worried the trauma wrought by the move would disrupt their spawning process, but they had babies that spring. This year, they spawned again.

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Pacifica pier cracks, another coastal casualty as seas continue to rise

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Pacifica pier cracks, another coastal casualty as seas continue to rise

The Pacifica Municipal Pier was shut down and taped off Thursday after city workers noticed cracks running through the landmark structure and concrete chunks falling into the ocean.

It’s just one of many coastal California structures that have recently crumbled under pressure from a rising and relentless ocean.

Officials from the small, beach city south of San Francisco said the pier was closed due to “cracking, separation, and displacement of the concrete walkway and structural elements.”

It will stay closed while structural engineers asses its safety.

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Photos taken by city employees show a wide crack that runs from top to bottom and across the structure as well. Other photos show a large horizontal crack under the foundation of a small restaurant on the pier, the Chit Chat Cafe.

The cafe was also shut down.

This is not the first time the 53-year-old pier has shown signs of stress. In 2021, part of it was shut down after handrails along the edge collapsed. And in 2023, after a series of storms pummeled the Central California coast, damaging parts of the pier, the structure was partially closed for more than year.

Those same storms caused extensive damage in Aptos and Capitola, 70 miles south, where piers and waterfront infrastructure were swept away or damaged.

In 2024, a 150- to 180- foot section of the Santa Cruz wharf was ripped off by powerful waves.

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At least 10 of the state’s dozens of coastal public piers were closed for part or all of 2024 due to structural damage sustained in winter storms since 2022. At least five others have longer-term upgrades planned to address structural issues.

“These things are costly to maintain,” said Zach Plopper, senior environmental director at Surfrider. “They are a part of our California coastal culture in many ways, but we’re going to need to reckon with, one, the state that they’re in, and two, the continuous and worsening threats they’re going to experience,”

He said most of the piers were constructed in the early 1900s, and they weren’t built to withstand decades of rough seas, storms and rising sea level.

“With this incoming El Niño, which is forecasted to be significant, and this marine heat wave we’re in the midst of, we’re kind of in uncharted waters as far as what this winter could bring in terms of storms and swells to the California coast, and we’re likely going to see a lot more damage,” he said. “Not just piers, but roads and other coastal infrastructure up and down the state.”

There was no storm in Pacifica earlier this week, so no single event could be blamed for the destruction.

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However, a 2025 report from an outside engineering firm, GHD, found that several sections of the pier were in “poor” or “serious” condition, and they recommended closure before anticipated storms or events that could “subject the piles to high winds, swells and large waves.”

The firm found several areas of the pier where concrete was missing and rebar was exposed and corroding.

“The pier has continued to experience high winds and large waves in a harsh marine environment,” the engineers wrote in the report, noting that continuous exposure to seawater or marine spray was “detrimental” to the structure.

A 2023 city report estimated it would cost $19 million to repair.

That same year, a state law was enacted to require local governments along the California coast to plan for sea level rise in the coming decades.

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Sea level has risen some 8 inches, on average, along the coast in the past 150 years, Plopper said, and researchers anticipate another foot in the next 25 years.

“We’re going to see profound shifts on our coastline, none that we have ever experienced before, and building static structures on the coast just doesn’t work all that well,” he said. “We’re going to have to make some really hard decisions.”

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