"It's just eerie and scary to see a deep red moon hanging in the sky," said Lowell, a founder of the Salt Lake Astronomical Society.

That same eeriness filled the early morning sky Tuesday as the moon became fully eclipsed, turning a murky reddish brown for about an hour and a half, an event that won't be visible from Utah again until February.

That ghostly moon made many of the dozen amateur astronomers who gathered at the Stansbury Park Observatory Complex understand why ancient cultures seeing such a moon would believe they had angered gods.

The eclipse, caused by the moon entering the dark part of Earth's shadow, was one of the better ones that many of the astronomers had seen in their stargazing; the moon was full and high above the horizon.

Loren Bjerke, who has stargazed since eighth grade, has seen only four or five lunar eclipses in the decades he's watched the night sky due to "poor luck."

"Usually, the moon is just below the horizon or the weather doesn't cooperate," he said.

But when he saw the full moon go from a glaring white to a deep brick red, he said it looked much like how Mars used to be depicted in old science fiction films.

The moon's colors were best seen out of the city lights with the naked eye. While many astronomers brought refractor telescopes and binoculars to gaze through, the color was more pronounced with no special equipment.

Skies like Tuesday morning's made Ann House, vice president of the Salt Lake Astronomical Society, wonder how anyone can sleep through such events.

"You don't get to see a total lunar eclipse often, but you can sleep any old night," she said. "This is great because it's unusual and fun. It gets you energized."

The dozen astronomers who joined her at the observatory agreed.

"Like virtually anything, if this is something that turns you on, you'll go to any lengths to see it," said Patrick Wiggins, NASA solar system ambassador to Utah. "It's in your blood."

Lyon shares that sentiment. "I've loved stargazing since I was a young boy," he said. "I've had a passion for it since I was a little kid, and I hope to do it forever."

smcfarland@sltrib.com