Hi Steve, Welcome to the ham community. If you are interested in CW operation I encourage you to look at the CW Academy sponsored CWOps at CWops.org. There is a program to carry you from beginner to 25 WPM with proper instruction along the way. That KX3 is a great radio for CW or any other mode you wish to pursue.
73, Bill WE5P Comfortably Numb > On Jul 12, 2020, at 16:11, Steve Belunek <st...@stevebelunek.com> wrote: > > Hi Wayne, > > As a new ham, having just joined this list and excitedly awaiting my first HF > rig (a KX3), I really appreciate this perspective. > > I had considered whether to pursue getting into HF and DX, and what radio in > general could offer over more "instant-gratification" forms of communication > like SMS. What I kept coming back to is the excitement of learning and > figuring new things out, the challenge of making contact, and the human > element. > > I feel like quick and easy texting has made conversation disposable, I > remember when email was a once-a-day transmission via modem… or you had to > write an actual letter to reach someone… the content of the transmission was > far more considered, precisely because it took time and effort… and I think > that effort made the message even more appreciated by the recipient. > > When I was younger, my physics teacher gave me a shortwave radio… I must have > spent hours tuning that dial listening to voice transmissions and strange > beeps and boops. Then I got busy with a career working in computers. I am > definitely a tinkerer and gadget geek. > > Fast forward to today, I’ve re-discovered radio, got my license and my > VHF/UHF HT… and I’m still intrigued by those far away signals… who’s out > there sending them, and where are they coming from? > > 73, > Steve > KM6ZNZ > > >> On Jul 12, 2020, at 8:07 AM, Wayne Burdick <n...@elecraft.com> wrote: >> >> I have a friend about my age who got into amateur radio only a few years >> ago. Like many of us, he was enthusiastic about the technology. Intrigued >> with DX. >> >> I showed him my station; we talked endlessly about gear. Later, I helped him >> put up a simple wire antenna. >> >> Then, when his license arrived, he dove straight into FT8 and didn't look >> back. Within days, he'd worked all states, then DXCC. He'd bag a few rare >> ones over a light lunch, then pat his laptop on the back and congratulate >> his software app for its near-mythical ability to extract weak signals out >> of noise. >> >> Within weeks, he'd mastered everything there was to know about this glorious >> new hobby. >> >> Point. Click. >> >> In this new world order, those of us who took the longer, slower path to >> ionospheric enlightenment -- and who still occasionally enjoy making waves >> by hand -- often fail to explain why. >> >> I had failed to explain it to my friend. Even as hints of his boredom crept >> in, creating an opening, the best argument I'd made for trying CW was that >> he could do it without a computer. Coming in a weak second was the notion >> that CW was the original digital mode. For obvious reasons, I didn't bother >> with the classic argument about CW's signal-to-noise advantage over SSB. >> >> I had all but given up. >> >> Then, in a moment of delayed clarity, I decided on a different approach. I >> invited him to a weekday brunch. A bit of an escape. He willingly took the >> bait. >> >> On the appointed day, arriving at his workplace, I bypassed the lobby's >> glistening elevators and climbed the four flights of stairs to his office. I >> insisted we take the stairs down, too. >> >> "Why?" he asked. "And how'd you get up here so fast?" >> >> I pointed out that I always chose stairs, when possible. That's why I wasn't >> out of breath. We hustled down, jockeying for position, and emerged on the >> ground floor invigorated by the effort. >> >> "So, where are we going?" he asked. We'd been to every overrated >> twenty-dollar burger venue at least twice. >> >> I replied that we'd be going someplace we'd never tried. My kitchen. >> >> When we arrived, I put him to work chopping onions and broccoli and >> squeezing oranges while I whipped eggs into a froth and grated Swiss cheese. >> We ate our omelettes outside, in full sun and a cool breeze. >> >> "What's for desert?" he asked. "Isn't there a frozen yogurt place a >> two-minute drive from here?" >> >> I had something else in mind. Back in the kitchen, I handed him a water >> bottle, then strapped on a small pack I'd prepared earlier. >> >> We walked a mile or so through my neighborhood, admiring the houses' varied >> architecture, ending up (as planned) at a local park festooned with >> blackberry bushes. The most accessible branches had been picked clean, but >> with teamwork and persistence we were able to gather several large handfuls >> of fat, ripe berries, which we devoured on the spot. >> >> We'd been poked and scratched but didn't care. >> >> "Doesn't brunch usually end with champagne?" he wondered aloud, admiring his >> wounds. >> >> Not this time. I pulled out two bottles of craft beer that I'd obtained from >> a neighbor in trade for repairing his ancient home stereo. Carlos had spent >> years crafting an American pilsner to die for, sweating every detail, >> including iconic, hand-painted labels. >> >> My friend accepted the bottle, then tried in vain to remove the cap. Not a >> twist-off. >> >> "Opener?" he said. >> >> I handed him a small pocket knife, an antique without specialty blades. He >> soon discovered it could not be used to remove the cap directly. He looked >> at me with a bemused expression, no doubt wondering what I had up my sleeve >> this time. >> >> I pointed out that we were surrounded by white oaks, a species known for its >> hard wood. He got the message, smiled, and began hunting. Within seconds >> he'd collected a small fallen branch. I watched as he used the knife to >> fashion a few inches of it into a passable bottle opener. We popped the >> caps, toasted his new-found skill, and traded stories of our misspent youths. >> >> "Oh, one more thing," I said. >> >> I pulled a KX2 out of my pack, along with two lengths of wire. Of course he >> knew everything there was to know about Elecraft, and me, so he wasn't >> surprised when I also pulled out the rig's attachable keyer paddle. We threw >> one wire in the closest tree and laid the other on the ground. >> >> He didn't have to ask whether I'd brought a laptop. >> >> We listened to CW signals up and down 20 meters, which was open to Europe at >> the time. As he tuned in each station, I copied for him using pencil and >> paper. He'd learned Morse code, but only at very slow speeds. >> >> After making a contact, I set the internal keyer speed to 10 words per >> minute and dialed power output to zero, for practice purposes, then showed >> him how to use the paddle. He smiled as he got the hang of it. Sending the >> full alphabet was a challenge, but he got there. The KX2 decoded and >> displayed his keying, providing confirmation. >> >> We'd blown through his allotted lunch break by a factor of three, so it was >> time to go. We coiled up the antenna wires, packed up, and walked back. As I >> drove him back to his employer, we made plans to get together again for a >> weekend hike. >> >> I could have just dropped him off, but we went back into the lobby together. >> Out of habit, he stopped in front of the elevator. Then he looked up. >> >> "OK," he said. "I get it. This CW thing. It's slow, it's hard to do well, >> and it takes years of practice." >> >> "Like hunting for your own food, or carving your own tools," I added. >> >> "Or cooking from scratch. Or brewing your own beer. Building your own radio. >> And you use more of your senses. Not just your eyes, but your ears. Your >> sense of touch." >> >> I nodded. Listening. Feeling. That was the radio I'd grown up with. >> >> "Of course it's harder to work DX with CW than with FT8," I reminded him, >> playing devil's advocate. >> >> "Is that what matters, though?" he asked. >> >> A longer discussion for another day. >> >> "Your call," I said. >> >> He gripped my shoulder and smiled, then reached toward the elevator's >> glowing, ivory colored button, framed by polished brass. >> >> The path most taken. >> >> Point. Click. >> >> "On second thought," he said, "I'll take the stairs." >> >> * * * >> >> Wayne, >> N6KR >> >> >> >> >> >> >> >> >> >> >> ______________________________________________________________ >> Elecraft mailing list >> Home: http://mailman.qth.net/mailman/listinfo/elecraft >> Help: http://mailman.qth.net/mmfaq.htm >> Post: mailto:Elecraft@mailman.qth.net >> >> This list hosted by: http://www.qsl.net >> Please help support this email list: http://www.qsl.net/donate.html >> Message delivered to st...@stevebelunek.com > > ______________________________________________________________ > Elecraft mailing list > Home: http://mailman.qth.net/mailman/listinfo/elecraft > Help: http://mailman.qth.net/mmfaq.htm > Post: mailto:Elecraft@mailman.qth.net > > This list hosted by: http://www.qsl.net > Please help support this email list: http://www.qsl.net/donate.html > Message delivered to weave...@usermail.com ______________________________________________________________ Elecraft mailing list Home: http://mailman.qth.net/mailman/listinfo/elecraft Help: http://mailman.qth.net/mmfaq.htm Post: mailto:Elecraft@mailman.qth.net This list hosted by: http://www.qsl.net Please help support this email list: http://www.qsl.net/donate.html Message delivered to arch...@mail-archive.com
