Back when I used to commute to Physics World’s Bristol, UK offices every day, I heard a lot of excuses explanations for why my train was delayed. Missing crew members. Road vehicles colliding with bridges. Even, on one memorable occasion, a herd of cows blocking the tracks.
One explanation I never heard, though, was the one proposed for a train that supposedly left the south-west English city of Exeter at 10.05 pm on 18 October 1841. According to an anonymous correspondent in Nature some 30 years later, this 10.05 train was delayed by 16 minutes because of “a very intense magnetic disturbance” that made it “impossible to ascertain if the line was clear”. This disturbance, the correspondent argued, was due to “the magnetic and auroral storms that have of late excited some attention and discussion in these pages”.
Such storms are now known as space weather, and in 2013, Trey Cade, a physicist who leads the Space Weather Research Lab at Baylor University in the US, made an intriguing suggestion: was this supposed 1841 delay the first recorded example of space weather affecting human technology?
An auroral detective story
According to the latest research, the answer is firmly in line with Betteridge’s law, which states that any headline that ends in a question mark can be answered by the word “no”. Although space weather was (and is) capable of delaying trains, it couldn’t have delayed the 10.05 from Exeter in 1841 for a very simple reason: the railway line in that part of England didn’t open until 1846.
That, however, raises a further question. Assuming Nature’s correspondent wasn’t making up the story of the aurora-delayed train, was he perhaps misremembering the date of a different, later storm?
To find out, a broad group of experts led by Lancaster University’s Jim Wild, and including personnel from the British Geological Survey, Natural Resources Canada, Nature, RMIT University in Australia and STFC RAL Space in the UK as well as Cade himself – dug into the data. By combining evidence from railway timetables, historical newspapers, records of solar observations, reports of aurorae and digitized geomagnetic records, they concluded that Nature’s correspondent – whom they tentatively identified as an electrical engineer called Nathaniel John Holmes – was probably thinking of a storm that took place on 18 October 1848, not 1841.
Having debunked the 1841 hypothesis, the authors of the new research, which is published in Space Weather, say that the earliest known example of space weather impacting human technology is now an incident involving telegraph systems on England’s Midland Railway in March 1847. If that still sounds rather early, Wild says that’s the point. “Society has been experiencing the effects of space weather on technology for almost as long as electrical technologies have existed,” he says. “The technologies affected have evolved from railway telegraphs to satellites…but the challenge remains the same: understanding the risk and ensuring society is resilient to its impacts.”
Raising awareness
According to Lasse Clausen, who studies space weather at the University of Oslo, Norway, but was not involved in the 10.05 from Exeter study, the biggest barrier to this understanding is a shortage of data about what’s going on in the Earth’s ionosphere, where space weather occurs. Although our ability to detect space weather has improved since the 1840s, he says that when it comes to predicting it, we’re roughly where conventional weather forecasting was in the 1920s. “Essentially, we can look out the window and say whether it’s raining or not,” he says.
Changing that will require additional funding, and for that, Clausen thinks raising awareness is essential. “The ionosphere is useful, but it’s not very sexy,” he tells me. The new study, he adds, is “a nice piece of detective work” that “firmly belongs in the ‘awareness raising’ category”.
