Uncle Rod's Astro Blog

As I said the other day on the freaking Facebook, muchachos, you’d think that with all the heat and haze we’re getting on the Gulf Coast, we’d have some good seeing to go with it as a consolation prize. Nope. Despite evening skies that look like milk, the air has not been overly steady. Not steady enough to make me want to attempt Solar System imaging, not normally.

Several things conspired to get me out in the backyard with C8 and ZWO camera, howsomeever. One was that I’ve got accustomed to doing a lot more observing than I used to. Especially compared to when I was a cotton picking wage slave. I kicked my observing hours up a notch when I retired in 2013, and have already kicked ‘em up a couple more notches now that I have a backyard where I can do some observing.

Another reason to hit the backyard despite the punk seeing was that I was seriously in arrears with my Destination Moon observing project. I thought moving to Pine Needle Drive would allow me finally to make real progress in imaging my chosen 300 lunar features, but ‘tain’t been so. Weather and other projects have conspired to keep “DM” in the doldrums.

Finally, while I’d been using my fave lunar software, Virtual Moon Atlas, for years and years (hard as it is to believe it’s been around that long), there was one of its many features I had never tried. That bugged me.

What’s that Skeezix? What’s a Virtual Moon Atlas? Back when it first came out, I liked to call the software “Megastar for Moon watchers.” Today, maybe that should be “SkyTools 3 or TheSkyX for lunar observers.” It is what I hoped for from the beginning of the computerized amateur astronomy revolution, a lunar charting program that would free me from paper Moon maps like like SkyTools freed me from printed star atlases.

The need for a computer charting application for the Moon was even direr than it was for the deep sky. While TheSkyX will go far deeper than even the Millennium Star Atlas, Millennium will still get most amateurs as far out into deep space as they need to go.

Not so with the Moon. The primary tool for most “Lunatics”? Antonin Rukl’s time-honored Atlas of the Moon. It is a wonderful book by a wonderful man. I treasure my autographed copy, and am proud to say I had the honor of showing Mr. Tony the Moon through my C8, Celeste, one autumn night. While his atlas is still beautiful and still useful, it leaves something to be desired data-wise. The number of features it shows and labels make it about as useful for the advanced lunar observer as Sky Atlas 2000 is for advanced deep sky observer. That is, “good,” but plenty of gaps.

Beyond the higher level of detail Unk supposed a computerized lunar atlas could offer, there was another way one would be much more useful at the scope than a print atlas. The fact that your scope inverts or reverses images doesn't mean much for deep sky work, but it can make the jumbled lunar highlands almost impossible to navigate. With a computer Moon atlas, you could flip or rotate Luna easily.

A computerized atlas seemed like a natural, but there wasn’t one. Unk waited and wished all through the 1990s—in vain. There was no Moon Megastar despite the explosion in astronomical computing. Then, finally, in 2002, it happened. Astronomy software guru Patrick Chevalley (Cartes du Ciel) and Moon guru and passionate lunar observer Christian Legrand released version 1.0 of their freeware Virtual Moon Atlas.

The rest, like the bright boys say, is history. While there was a commercial lunar atlas program competing with Virtual Moon Atlas for a while, it soon became evident that Patrick and Christian’s “VMA” was everything lunar observers had hoped for, and the pay-to-play program faded away.

What’s VMA do? That is the subject for a full blog entry like this one, but suffice to say the program puts an incredibly detailed (and beautiful) Moon on your desktop. It also brings a host of lunar resources to the amateur. In bad old days, the only way you could hope to get a look at “professional” lunar atlases like the Lunar Orbiter Photographic Atlas of the Moon (LOPAM) was if you had a big university and its library nearby. VMA puts stuff like that at your disposal for the price of a download.

Much as I loved VMA—it reawakened my long dormant obsession with the Moon--there was, as above, one feature of it I had never tried: goto. I know what you are thinking, “Shoot, Unk, why would you need goto for the fraking Moon?” If all you do is look at a few prominent objects—Tycho, Copernicus, Plato—you don’t need goto for the Moon anymore than someone who only looks at M13, M42, and M27 needs goto for deep sky observing.

If, however, you are after more subtle lunar features or, especially, you are imaging lunar features, prominent or not, with a Solar System camera, goto can be a Good Thing. If you are after high-resolution pictures, you image the Moon at high focal ratios—f/20 and above. At the high “magnification” that imparts, small-chip cameras like the ZWOs have small fields of view. It can be a real task to get even good, old Copper-Nick-Us (as silly little Rod called Copernicus when he was knee-high to a toad-frog) in the frame of a planet-cam.

How had I been working so far? Pick out a crater or other feature on VMA. Walk out to the scope. Flip down the flip mirror to send images to a reticle eyepiece. Locate the target using the hand control. Flip the mirror back up to send the images to the camera again. Back to the computer to do the exposure.

That wasn’t a productive way to work. If I were going to get a move on with Destination Moon, I’d have to do better. I’d have to find a way to do everything at the computer, like when I was doing The Herschel Project with my Mallincams. I knew VMA included a goto system, and since I also knew it used the ASCOM telescope drivers, I figgered it wouldn’t be too hard to get going. Hell, I probably didn’t even need to read the consarned instructions (VMA’s help file).

Anyhoo, set up the good, old Ultima 8 on the good, old CG5 in the good, old backyard and hoped for the best. At least I’d be comfortable no matter what the pea-picking sky and scope did. Miss D. and I had purchased new furniture for the deck that very day, and I was seated in a comfortable chair at a nice table with a big umbrella that served to keep at least some of the heavy dew off Unk’s pore old noggin.

With the pretty, gibbous Moon finally free of the trees and the North Star peeping out, it was time for your old Uncle to get started. “Getting started” this time was more complicated than on my last lunar run. No easy Solar System Alignment tonight. I’d need the goto to be as good as it could be, I reckoned, so I did a full-blown 2+4 alignment, followed by a (Polaris) polar alignment, followed by yet another 2+4 to tweak the goto back in after moving the mount to get on the NCP.

Alignment-polar alignment-alignment finished without incident to speak of, I mashed “Moon” on the HC's Solar System menu, the CG5 made her famous weasels with tuberculosis noise, and, when the mount stopped, Luna was centered in the eyepiece of the flip mirror.

Cool. Next step was to light off Virtual Moon Atlas and choose the “Tools” tab from the menu on the right side of the screen. I selected ASCOM’s  Celestron driver, specified the CG5 and—I thought—I was done. Where to first? How about Copernicus? That would be immediately identifiable, you betcha. I typed C-o-p-e-r-n-i-c-u-s in the search field in the “Information” tab, went back to Tools, and mouse-clicked the “Goto Selected” button. The mount slewed a short distance and Celeste’s NexRemote voice intoned “Target acquired.”

But was it? I fired up my camera control program—a really great camera control program—Firecapture, and had a look see. While the program indicated all was well with the camera, the only thing that greeted your silly old Uncle’s peepers was a black expanse of screen. Increasing exposure had absolutely no effect. Unk was lost in circumlunar space, it seemed.

Maybe, just maybe, Unk should read them dadburned instructions after all. Doing so indicated what my problem was:  “Begin [by] centering a well known formation in the eyepiece field and select it on the map. Push the ‘Sync selection’ button for initializing telescope coordinates on this position.” Well, there you had it. Unk centered Copernicus as per usual with the gamepad I use as NexRemote’s hand control, mashed “Sync selected” (in the Tools menu), selected Plato on the chart, and tried another goto. Bam! There was everybody’s favorite dark-floored crater near the center of the screen.

So what is the verdict on VMA’s goto function? It works well and is hardly a frill. It allowed me to cover ground much, much more quickly than I would have if I’d had to go out to the scope with the hand control and hunt and center features manually for each exposure. How accurate was it? More than accurate enough. Reliably centering lunar features at f/20 on a small chip is a demanding task for a goto system, but the old CG5 came through with flying colors. I did have to re-sync one time, but that was it and was hardly a problem.

Having lunar goto allowed me to image 14 objects in the time it normally takes to image 5. It would actually have been 15, but I kept spelling “Parry” P-E-r-r-y, and, naturally, VMA couldn’t find a crater with that name in its database. Not only did goto make the run go quicker, it took some of the stress away. I could tell conditions were degrading, but being able to click my way to targets in a hurry meant I wasn’t sweating.

How about them conditions? From my first look at Copernicus, I could tell they were not gonna be as good as I’d hoped. Not horrible, but only fair. Good enough to continue Destination Moon, but not good enough for me to get excellent shots.

Destination Moon Night 6

Beginning in the lunar highlands, my first stop was Blancanus, which is freaking amazing. This steep-sloped 106 km diameter crater features terraced walls and a flat, detailed floor with a nice central peak. So why don’t you hear more about it? There’s not a word about Blancanus in Patrick Moore’s A Survey of the Moon, and it’s barely mentioned in Westfall’s Atlas of the Lunar Terminator, to mention the first two lunar resources I grabbed off Chaos Manor South’s bookshelf. Maybe because Blancanus’, perched on the southwest slope of the great crater Clavius, is overshadowed by its more impressive neighbor.

                                        

Moretus is in the same general area of the Moon, 378km to the southeast of Clavius Base. It’s a lot like Blancanus—impressive, that is—with sharp, terraced walls 114 km in diameter and a flat, lava-surfaced floor that hosts numerous craterlets. There’s also a 2.7 km high central peak. Not too shabby, y’all.

That horse of a different color, the one you’ve heard tell about, is Pitatus, which is 875 km south-southeast of Clavius. Pitatus is, as Ernest Cherrington calls it in his classic Exploring the Moon through Binoculars and Small Telescopes, “The remains of what once must have been a major lunar formation.” This 98 km crater is nevertheless immediately obvious when the sun angle is reasonably low, and consists of soft-looking walls and a floor of lava that flooded in from nearby Mare Nubium.

In addition to craterlets and a weathered looking central peak, the main interest inside the crater is a network of rilles, Rimae Pitatus.  The rilles that run around the crater’s circumference inside the walls are particularly impressive. Those crossing the center are more subtle, and didn't show up well for me under poor seeing. To the west is the odd little crater Hesiodus A, which is composed of two concentric “rings.”

Southwest of Pitiatus is 88 km diameter Wurzelbauer a badly damaged formation, that is even less “there” than Pitatus. It consists of eroded, low walls surrounding a floor of ancient lava. The western half of the floor is rough, while the eastern portion is relatively smooth. A network of rilles crosses the eastern part of the floor.

Gauricus, just east of Wurzelbauer, is like the two previous craters, badly damaged. It looks a little fresher than Wurzelbauer, but not much. At 80 km diameter, it is slightly smaller than its neighbor is, and features a flat lava floor dusted with small craters. The most interesting thing about Gauricus is the ghost crater, Gauricus F, situated in the northern area of the crater’s floor.

East of the preceding three craters is Hell. The formation is named for an 18th Century Hungarian astronomer, Maximilian Hell, not religious mythology’s land of the dead, and doesn't look like Hell at all.  It looks great, a steep-sloped 33 km crater with a rough, “tormented,” floor. While not the sharpest picture I’ve ever taken, my image picked up the basic details with the exception of the pretty little craterlet near Hell’s center. I can make it out if I hold my mouth just right, but just barely.

Southeast of Hell is Lexell—or what is left of it. This 63 km formation is just shy of being a ghost crater. While the southwest walls are still there, if eroded looking, the crater rim to the northeast has almost completely disappeared under lava. The rough floor is scattered with craterlets of varying sizes.

Kies lies to the west-southwest of Lexell out in Mare Nubium. Like Lexell, but even moreso, 45 km diameter Kies is close to being ghosted, with there being a sizable gap in the walls to the west. There’s an odd protrusion to south and some other barely visible details that hint at how magnificent this crater must have been before the lavas of Mare Nubium consumed it. 157 km north of Kies is the wonderful terraced crater, Bullialdus.

Mercator, southwest of Kies, is, as you prob’ly guessed, named for the famous 16th Century mathematician and map-maker. “His” crater, which is paired with the similar and similarly impressive Companus, is 48 km across and features steep walls and a flat, craterlet littered lava floor.

Adjoining Mercator on the west is Campanus, also 48 km in diameter. The walls of the two formations are separated by a rille that was just barely visible in my image. There’s also a rille on the floor of Campanus, but I just couldn’t pull it out on this night. I did pick up a couple of craterlets and a small central peak, however.

Lubiniezky, northwest of Bullialdus, is another crater that has suffered from intrusion by Mare Nubium’s lava. While the crater’s walls still form a nearly complete 45 km circle, the rim to the southeast is badly damaged and is completely missing along one stretch.

There is nothing damaged looking about Eratosthenes, which lies on the shores of Mare Imbrium 300 km south of the center of Copernicus. This 93 km formation has steep, terraced walls, and a complex central peak composed of three separate mountains.  A hallmark of this crater is the “tail” of mountains stretching away to the southwest.

441 km northwest of Copernicus is the isolated crater Lambert set in the “waters” of Mare Imbrium. 30 km in extent, it has steep slopes, a rough floor, and a rounded looking central peak. The impressive “mountain,” Dorsa Stille, actually a wrinkle ridge, is 70 km east and stands out like the proverbial sore thumb.

Timocharis is a dang nice one to end on, a pretty and well-defined terraced-walled crater north-northeast of Lambert. While not large at 35 km, its bright, steep walls, terraced interior, and cratered central peak make it a standout.

And that was that, muchachos. The seeing, never good, reached a crescendo of suckiness just as I finished Timocharis. Suddenly, there were clouds, too. I tucked Celeste in with her Desert Storm cover—one of the beauties of the secure New Manse is that I am not afraid to leave the scope out overnight—and retired to the den for a tetch of Yell and a couple of hours watching Survivorman eat bugs. If nothing else, I’d got my lunar goto go-toing and moved destination Moon ahead a smidge. Not bad for a hazy and hot July night in Possum Swamp.

Nota Bene:  You can see all my lunar images from Night 6 on my Facebook Page, y'all...

Next Time: Down Chiefland Way… 

Ah, yes, the lazy, crazy, hazy days of summer. With an emphasis on “hazy,” muchachos. My intent for a while—well, for two solid months—has been to get the cute little Mallincam EX out and see what it will do. I have almost done that a time or three, but the cloudy, milky skies of Gulf Coast midsummer nights have dissuaded me.

Based on my limited experience with the camera at the Deep South Regional Star Gaze Spring Scrimmage, I believe Rock Mallin’s amazingly cheap deep sky video cam has real possibilities. B-U-T…I want to give it a fair chance to show what it can do under clear if not necessarily dark skies.

A couple of recent evenings were supposed to be clear if not overly transparent, but those forecasts did not prove correct in the least. Even if late afternoon thunderstorms didn't move in, clouds and mucho haze did. Conditions have simply not been good enough for deep sky imaging of any sort.

But I wanted to get outside and play telescopes anyway, and what I saw out at the dark site last week gave me an idea. As you’ll recall, my mission on the Possum Swamp Astronomical Society observing field last week was to get my good, old Denkmeier Standard binoviewers going with the Edge 800 C8 and my VX mount. The binoviewer had nothing to do with Unk’s latest brainstorm (if you want to call it that), however.

Most of my time last Saturday was taken up by getting the C8’s, Mrs. Emma Peel’s, VX mount goto aligned when it was hard to see alignment stars due to passing clouds—or maybe that oughta be “passing sucker holes.” When I finally got the mount going, I focused on making the binoviewer work with the new scope and my old eyes. Nevertheless, I was somewhat aware one of my fellow club members, Taras, who’d set up his 15-inch homebrew Dobbie next to me, was trying something new with his Sky Commanders.

He, like many of us latter day Dobsonian users—yes, your SCT-happy old Uncle wields a Dobbie regularly—uses digital setting circles with his telescope. You know, “push to.” Digital setting circles have been with amateur astronomy for over a quarter century. In the beginning, that is all they were, digital setting circles, readouts that showed the right ascension and declination of your telescope.

The first wave digital setting circles weren't much more accurate—if any more accurate—than the analog setting circles on an orange tube C8. All they did was give you a readout in nice, big L.E.D.s that freed you from squinting at analog circles with a red light and a magnifying glass.

Then, as the 1980s ran out, “DSCs,” as us acronym-happy amateur astronomers began to call ‘em, started to change, to advance. In the hands of folks like a little California company called “Tangent Instruments,” who were making a name for themselves in telescope electronics (for companies like Celestron, Jim’s Mobile, and others) DSCs were becoming real computers.

The first benefit of the transition from readouts to computers was that the need for polar alignment became less exacting. The first DSCs were, again, just digital readouts, so, like analog circles, their accuracy was highly dependent on how closely the telescope mount was aligned to the celestial pole. The next generation of digital setting circles made that far less critical. By having the user “align” on one or two stars, the computer could figure out a polar alignment offset and yield decent push-to accuracy without a freaking drift alignment.

“What the hail is this ‘push-to’ you keep going on about, Unk?” If you are a newbie, you may be confused about the difference between goto and DSCs. Both goto mounts and DSCs require you to align on one or two stars, to center those stars in an eyepiece. It’s when you are aligned that things get different.

With a goto mount, you punch the number of the object you want to view into the hand control, push a button, and motors move the scope to that location. You enter your desired object into a DSC in similar fashion. There are (usually) no motors involved with digital setting circles, however. Instead, the DSC computer will indicate which way the scope needs to move in RA/Dec or altitude/azimuth to reach the target. You then PUSH the scope TO the object, watching the numbers on the DSC display decrease to zero as you approach it.

Did you notice the “alt-azimuth” above? That was the next big step up for DSCs after the polar alignment conundrum was solved. When DSCs were first catching on in a big way, in the late 80s, Dobsonian telescopes were also big (in popularity as well as aperture). Maybe as popular as they ever would be. Naturally, Dob owners, some of ‘em, wanted DSCs too, and it wasn’t long before all the names in the business, JMI, Lumicon, Roger Tuthill, and more (most of whom used Tangent’s electronic guts) were offering rigs that worked as well with alt-azimuth Dobsonian Mounts as they did with equatorials.

Just one more piece and the DSC puzzle would be complete. Even after adding computer horsepower, DSCs were awkward to use. First, you had to look up the coordinates of your object in a fraking book. Then you had to move the scope until the R.A. and declination numbers on the display matched those of your target. Sounds easy, but ‘tain’t always so.  As you move to the northern (or southern) area of the sky, them numbers begin changing awful fast on the readout, making it difficult to home in on ground zero.

Afore long, DSCs had object libraries. Want to look at M51? Punch up M51 on the computer and the DSCs would indicate the direction and distance you needed to push your scope to get to the target. DSC object libraries started out with a measly 110 (Messier) objects, but as the 90s came in and computer chips got cheaper, the top of the line rigs were soon sporting the entire NGC and IC catalogs.

So, DSC owners lived happily ever after? Not quite. As goto scopes, the Compustars and the LX200s, and, soon, the NexStars and LX200 GPSes, hit the street, push-to users began to feel a mite left out. Not only did the top tier goto rigs have hand controllers that contained many more objects than any digital setting circles computer, it was far easier to enter those objects into a goto HC.

Whether you own an ancient Tuthill rig or the latest Argo Navis or Sky Commander, one thing has remained constant: DSC computers make do with just a few buttons to perform many tasks. Almost all goto hand controllers have numeric keypads, but, as far as I know, no DSC computer does, not even the powerful Argo Navis. You wanna enter an NGC number? You do that with up and down and left and right cursor button pushes or, at best, by twirling a dial.

It would also be nice if DSC libraries contained more objects. While the mighty Argo Navis has 29,000 DSOs in its library, that number pales in comparison to the 145,000 the Meade Autostar II hand control boasts. The other players? Most are still stuck at the NGC/IC-and-a-few-more-catalogs level. Hell, if I want to look at PGC 15435, I wanna look at PGC 15435.

Luckily, there is a relatively easy way to make digital setting circle computers easier to use and more full-featured. Almost from the beginning, DSCs have featured RS-232 serial ports that allow them to be interfaced to a PC. Why would you want to do that? Connected to a computer, you could select objects by clicking on them with a mouse, and you’d have the huge object library of the average PC (or Mac) astronomy program available for your DSCs.

Alas, the first time I saw a DSC hooked to a laptop, at the 1997 Texas Star Party, your old Uncle was not impressed. I had the good fortune to be set up next to a friendly dude with a 30-inch scope. Well, it would have been fortunate if we’d had much in the way of clear skies. We did get a few so-so nights during the week-long star party, however, and I was able to see how my new friend’s push-to rig, a JMI NGC Max and a laptop running TheSky planetarium software, worked.

In a way, it did fulfill some of the promise Unk thought inherent in the combination. When Mr. Man wanted to go to an object, he clicked on it on TheSky’s screen. That object could be any one of the many deep sky wonders in the program’s large library. That was the good. The bad was the way you had to push to your object. What you did was move the scope while watching a crosshair cursor on the program’s sky display.

There was a problem inherent in that. You had to have the computer close enough to the scope so you could watch the display as you pushed. If you were moving the scope to a radically different position in the sky, you’d probably have to move the computer, too. For best results, you really needed to mount the computer on the scope somehow.

That was something that didn’t seem overly practical to Unk. Oh, maybe if you were running a 30-inch Dob it might be OK, but my old Toshiba Satellite, which weighed dern near 20-pounds, would have thrown my Dobbie of choice, Old Betsy, a 12-incher, seriously off balance, to put it mildly. I decided DSC + PC was an idea that wasn’t quite ready for prime time and thought no more about it for a long time. I wasn’t alone. While I saw lots of amateurs using digital setting circles on star party observing fields, even the folks that had laptop computers with them rarely had their computers interfaced to the DSCs.

It didn’t much matter anyway, since it took a long time for Unk to convince himself Betsy needed DSCs at all, whether computer interfaced or not. Betsy and I were perfectly happy running down objects using Sky Atlas 2000, Herald-Bobroff, a Telrad, and a 50mm finder.

We were, that is, until Unk got his first goto SCT not long after the turn of the century. It was at that time I decided I was more interested in seeing objects than hunting objects. I wasn’t getting any younger, and I wanted to see as much of the Great Out There as I could in the years of observing left to me. In other words, goto had spoiled me, and I knew that if I were to continue using Betsy I’d at least have to equip her with DSCs.

“Which DSCs?” Was purty easy to figure out. I crossed the Tangent-based units off my list. They were, in my opinion, more difficult to align accurately than they should be, and their accuracy seemed to suffer in comparison to goto scopes. That left the Argo Navis, which had the advantage of numerous features and a high-powered processor, and the Sky Commander, which offered simplicity (and a lower price, which always gets Unk’s attention). Both were easy to align— point at two stars, you were done—and both offered goto accuracy comparable to my NexStar 11 GPS. I settled on the Sky Commanders, though I can see myself driving (sailing?) an Argo someday.

The Sky Commanders have worked great for me for over seven years. In fact, their accuracy and Betsy’s still amazing reach at the 2009 Deep South Regional Star Gaze were what impelled me to undertake The Herschel Project. The Commanders just worked. They weren't feature laden, but the features they had were usable and useful. Well, ever’thing except the RS-232 serial port. I had no idea how well that worked and didn't feel moved to find out.

Oh, I knew what it was for, mind you. It had two purposes, upgrading the firmware and interfacing the DSCs to an astronomy program running on a PC. I didn't need to do the former and had little interest in the latter. Remembering the long ago night where I’d watched that cursor crawl across the display of TheSky, I thought I’d give it a pass.

Which returns us to last Saturday night on the PSAS observing field. When I finally got the mount squared away and had proved to myself that the binoviewer and StarSweeper focal reducer would work with the Edge 800, and that my old eyes could still more or less handle a binoviewer, I got curious as to what Taras was up to with SkyTools 3 and his Dobbie.

What prompted my curiosity was him hollering, “IT WORKS! IT REALLY WORKS!” Unk strode over and enquired, “Calm down, son, what works?” Taras informed me this was the first time he’d connected his laptop running SkyTools 3 (which purchase was my suggestion) to his Sky Commander (which purchase was also my suggestion). Looking at his laptop, I noted the screen was pointing away from the scope. “How the hell do you see where to move the scope if you can’t see the screen?”

Taras informed your benighted old Uncle that he’d discovered you didn't have to see the SkyTools display to know how to push your scope to a DSO (or any other object). Click on an object in the ST3 observing list, mash the on-screen “push-to” button, and the object was sent to the Sky Commander computer, which showed you how to move the scope as per usual.

He also enthused about some kind of position indicator bars, and, further, said some English lady was a-telling him when he had his selected objects in the eyepiece. Some English lady, huh? Unk moved away slowly, back to his C8, Mrs. Emma Peel, and commenced messing with the binoviewer again. I was intrigued, however. Making all one million SkyTools objects available to the Sky Commander computer sounded like something Unk might be interested in. Dang tootin'.

Next morning, but not early the next morning, I took stock. If I wanted to hook my Toshiba laptop to the Sky Commanders, I would have to have a cable. A check of the pea-picking Internet turned up a couple of astronomy dealers who would sell me a Sky Commander computer control cable for 30 bucks. Call Unk a cheapskate, but 30 smackers for a roll of wire and a little plastic DB-9 connector seemed high. So, I had a look at the computer cable that came with the Sky Commanders.

This cable, with an RJ plug on one end for the Sky Commander computer and a DB-9 adapter on the other to plug into a PC serial port, would obviously not work for controlling the Commanders with a computer. The Sky Commander end of the cable had a jumper across two pins, no doubt to put the computer in programming mode. It was also way too short to be practical for use with a scope. Would Unk have to shell out 30 bucks? He was not yet ready to resign himself to that awful fate.

Grabbed my trusty multimeter and the (decent) Sky Commander manual, and I soon determined all I should need was a telephone extension cable—a phone extension that plugs into the wall, not a handset extension. Plug one end into the Sky Commander and the other into the RJ – DB9 adapter that came with the programming cable, and I would be ready to roll.

Me and Miss D. needed to stop at the Home Depot for supplies as we continue cleaning up and clearing out the old Chaos Manor South, and I seemed to recall the home improvement bigbox sold telephone accessories. They did indeed, a few, anyway, sandwiched between cell phone geegaws. I found a 25-foot phone cord I thought would serve. Cost all of five fraking bucks, which was a dern site better than 30—if'n it worked, of course.

Last Tuesday night, we finally got some semi-clearing, and Unk decided to give the DSC-computer trope a go. Old Betsy, my time-honored 12-incher, was in fine fettle—I’d spent the day cleaning both her primary mirror and her Dob body, since she’d been exposed to a fair amount of dust in my initial clean-up of the shop. The only bad was the sky, which in typical midsummer fashion had gone from looking acceptable at sunset to nearly closed-down at dark.

Hokay, what would be would be, as Doris Day used to say. Lit a citronella candle to keep the skeeters away—I hate to use up the somewhat expensive Thermacell cartridges and pads for an informal backyard run. Set up the laptop, connected one end of my new cable to the USB serial adapter and t’other into and to the Sky Commanders’ RS-232 port. Didn't start SkyTools just yet, though. As with a goto scope, before you can use the computer, you have to do a normal alignment. If I could do a normal alignment. 

I always use Polaris as my number one DSC alignment star. This time of year, I’d probably pick Regulus as number two. Problem was, both were behind consarned clouds. I waited, as I did last week, hoping for the North Star to peep out, but it soon became evident that all that was going to happen was that the sky was going to get progressively worse.

Vega was in sight, so that would have to be star one. Spica, almost due south, was also (intermittently) visible and would be my number two. I turned on the Sky Commander, entered the date (no time or location required), and centered the two stars in succession. Alrighty, then, computer time.

I launched SkyTools and selected the “RealTime” tab, which is where you do your scope interfacing and gotoing (or pushtoing). Next, I found “select/configure telescope” on the telescope control menu. All I had to do was choose “Sky Commander” and specify the baud rate I wanted to use for communications. Since, as I’d read in the Sky Commanders manual, the default in the DSCs is 9600bps, I told SkyTools “9600.”

Taras had mentioned something about SkyTools talking to him in DSC mode, so I’d enabled voice in the program preferences. Still, I dang near jumped out of my pea-picking skin when a sexy-sounding Englishwoman declared, “TELESCOPE CONNECTED!” when I clicked the “connect to telescope” choice in the scope control menu.

Before I actually tried to do anything with the Sky Commanders, I thought I’d better have a look at the “configure push-to indicators” menu I’d discovered. The only thing I did there was change mount type from EQ to alt-az. Time for the rubber meets the road thing, I reckoned.

I brought up the Messier list in RealTime, selected “M13,” and mashed the “push to” button. I was not as startled this time when “Audrey” told me to “Push telescope to target!” (SkyTools refers to its audio guide as Audrey, but I will probably just think of her as “Betsy”). At the scope, I had to mash the down cursor button to bring up the push-to indicators this first time, but that was all. I maneuvered the scope to M13 watching the Commanders’ numbers count down just as always. When Bertha/Audrey intoned “Telescope on target,” I inserted the Happy Hand Grenade, my 16mm Zhumell 100-degree eyepiece, into the JMI NGF focuser and had a peep. Nuttin’ honey.

A look up showed why: Hercules was now a mass of clouds—I couldn’t make out a single one of the constellation’s stars. The scope did seem to be pointing in the proper direction, but I wanted to be sure. What was available? The Big Dipper was shining bravely, if barely, through the thickening haze to the northwest. I loaded my SynScan alignment star observing list and selected Mizar, which is not only bright but distinctive.

Pushed “push-to” again, Bertha told me to get out to the telescope and start pushing, and that is what I did. When the indicators on The Sky Commander was zeroed out, I peered into the Zhumell. There was Mizar centered in the field. Yeehaw! My five-buck cable damn sure worked. I tried a few more bright stars—Arcturus, Spica, and one or two others—and all were in the center of the field, convincing me all was well.

Since even the bright stars were now disappearing, I pulled the Big Switch, carried Bertha back inside the shop, and went in the house to give Miss Dorothy the good news—I hadn’t let the smoke out of my DSCs. The cable and software worked perfectly; the Sky Commanders now had access to SkyTools huge database (including, importantly, asteroids and comets). And it was so much easier to click on objects on the ST3 display than to cursor to them with the Commanders’ freaking little membrane keys.

Actually, the ST3-Sky Commander goodness doesn't end there. In addition to sending objects to the Commander so you can use the normal DSC readout to push the scope to target, SkyTools displays two large, red push-to indicators; one for altitude and azimuth. Push the scope till these red bands/graphs dwindle away to nothing, and you will be on your object. You can also tell SkyTools Interactive Atlas to display a reticle showing scope position on the map, but as with my buddy’s long ago TSP rig, I am not sure I will want to/need to do that.

Unk was one happy little camper as he sat with a draught of the Rebel Yell watching a late-night replay of Braves vs. Mets. Normally, I’d be right put out to be skunked this bad. I had not seen a single DSO after spending considerable time setting up the scope in the hot stickiness of a Possum Swamp summer’s night (heat index hit 101 in the afternoon). But not this time. Not only did I now understand how good the combination of PC and DSCs can be, I may have given my much -loved twenty year old telescope a whole new lease on life, muchachos, and that cannot be a bad thing.

Next Time: Destination Moon Night 6...

How was the sky looking last Saturday afternoon, muchachos? Not so hot, if not as bad as it did the Saturday before. One of my favorite observing weather predicting tools, Scope Nights, had gone from showing the first part of the evening as “good,” to indicating the whole pea-picking night would be only “fair.” Fair was better than “poor,” howsomeever, so on your cockeyed optimist of an Uncle pushed.

It wasn’t like I planned to lug a ton of gear out for a Mallincam run. As you learned last week if’n you were paying attention, I wanted to get my old Denkmeier Standard binoviewer out of mothballs and give it a spin at the Possum Swamp Astronomical Society dark site. While I found my plans growing a little more ambitious than that as I sat around the New Manse Saturday afternoon and ruminated (“Maybe I’ll do a few dozen Herschel IIs visually. Might even sketch ‘em!”), I intended to keep the gear load-out as modest as possible.

At 1830, I began packing up the Toyota 4Runner. First in was Mrs. Emma Peel, the Edge 800—a major reason for the expedition was to see how the binoviewer and, especially, its StarSweeper f/6 reducer, would function with the Edge. I had some hopes the answer would be “purty good.”

The StarSweeper is a plain vanilla focal reducer. It doesn't flatten the field or reduce coma. It just speeds up the optical system. I didn't expect the field edge to look great with the ‘Sweeper, but I thought it would work OK in concert with the Edge’s built in flattening and coma reducing elements. If it didn't, well, hell, I’d have the genu-wine Edge f/7 reducer with me in the big Plano tackle box that contains Unk’s observing accessories.

What else? Mrs. Peel’s VX mount, of course, but I would run that mount in minimalist fashion. No NexRemote. Not even a serial cable attached to the laptop. Stock hand control all the way. Almost stock, anyhow. The HC cable on Celestron’s Plus hand controls is absurdly short. I’d got tired of that soon after I started using the new mount, and tried to use an HC extension cable I bought many a Moon ago when the CG5 was new.

That worked just fine—till I began getting dadgum “No Response” errors. Clearly, the old extension was ready for the trash heap of history. I ordered a nice coiled-cord replacement from Mr. Scopestuff, Jim Henson, and it has worked great. If you are going to use the Plus HC comfortably, one of Jim’s cables really is a must.

While I didn't intend to hook the Toshiba laptop to the mount, I brought the Satellite along anyhow. I am not going into the field without a SkyTools or Deep Sky Planner list at my disposal, Cuz. For a brief moment, I thought about just printing out a list, but then the good little angel sitting on my shoulder intoned, “Are you fraking nuts, Unk? This is the dagnabbed 21st Century.” Into the truck went the PC.

Scope, mount, tackle box, and PC was almost it. Big Rubbermaid container with the DewBuster, the inverter, and various assorted astro-junk went in too. So did the Denks, natch. Added my observing chair to the pile, and that was all I carried out yonder other than my little Fuji superzoom camera so I could take a few snaps of the field for y’all. I did NOT throw the “good” eyepiece case in the vee-hickle. As on the long ago Chiefland Star Party night I recounted last week, I declared the SCT a “single-eyepiece-free-zone.” The pairs of GTO Plössls in the case with the Denkmeier would be all I’d need.

Well, that and clear skies, and it looked as if the weather would once again be the monkey wrench in Unk’s plans. That said, while it wasn’t clear it wasn’t that cloudy, either. The Clear Sky Clock was showing generally poor transparency, but it was mostly darker blue squares in the row assigned to “cloud cover.” And not only was I intent on sticking to my usual vow that I’d head to the site if it wasn’t actually raining, my old observing  buddy, Max, had called Friday. I’d promised him I’d be at the dark site if the wet stuff were indeed not falling.

So, skeptical as your old hillbilly Uncle might have been, as sundown came on, he turned the 4Runner, Miss Lucille Van Pelt, west for the dark site. The drive wasn’t unpleasant at all—being about 30-minutes closer to the private airfield we use for our observing sure don’t hurt. Especially since our new location means I don’t have to traverse the crazy traffic around the shopping mall on my way out of town.

Seemed like ‘twarn’t long at all before I was pulling onto the well-loved field where, I was pleased to see, Max was already getting his scope ready to go aided by the big yellow tomcat who makes the aerodrome his home. I did note Max and Mr. Kitty were setting up a 4-inch scope, not one of Max’s big guns. Who could blame them? At sunset, the sky wasn’t completely overcast, but it was the next closest thing to it.

“Hokay, I ain’t gonna be a stick in the mud with everybody else setting up scopes but me.” Our fellow PSAS member, Taras, had arrived bearing his big 15-inch Dobsonian, and if he was willing to put together that big gun, the least I could do was get a C8 on a mount. Let’s get ‘er done…

Getting her done should have been smooth. Scope on mount, DewBuster heaters on scope, diagonal in rear port, reticle eyepiece in diagonal, hook up battery and hand control. But it is never easy or simple with your old Uncle Rod. Plugged the mount into the jump-start battery, reached over and mashed the power switch, and waited for the hand control’s sign on message. And waited. And waited. What the hell was wrong now?

Checked my battery connection, and that was OK. Made sure the telescope end of the power cable was firmly plugged in and screwed in place with its threaded collar. Nuttin’ honey. “Well, I’ll be freaking doggoned, what do I do now?” What I did was grab a flashlight, since I’d been doing all this partially by touch in the gloaming.

Shined my light at the mount control panel and what did I see? The power switch was in the o-f-f position. I must have accidentally turned it on when I was setting up, and had actually turned it off when I thought I was turning it on. Oh, well, switched it on and the HC came right up after its usual interval (takes a little longer for it to boot than the old NexStar hand control did). That was not the end of Unk’s troubles, however.

Next step in the get-er-done game would be doing a rough polar alignment, just sighting Polaris through the hollow polar bore of the VX. That’s what I would have done if the northern sky hadn’t been covered in a thick layer of clouds. I waited, but little happened. “Shoot, I know about where Polaris is at this site, and I believe I’m seein’ it wink in once in a while.” I pointed the VX’s RA axis at that spot.

Started the two-star goto alignment, being reasonably careful with the time and other data entries. Star One was Arcturus, but when the mount stopped, it was far from that star. Too far. I often tell goto newbies not to worry too much about how far the initial slew stops from an alignment star. Just center the sucker. But Arcturus was easily twenty degrees from the Quikfinder’s bullseye. That's different. Standing there pondering the sitchy-ation, I happened to glance over my shoulder. “Dadgummit, there’s Polaris!” It was only about, yep, 20-degrees from where I thought it was.

I shut down, re-polar aligned and started the goto alignment over. Star One was still a considerable ways out, maybe because of bum data in the hand control from my previous alignment attempt, but star two, Spica, was, as per normal, just outside the Rigel Quickfinder’s red rings. Calibration Stars three and four were in the field of the 12mm Meade reticle eyepiece in the main scope at 160x when the slews stopped…which spells, “Align Success.” So, my alignment was done if, not in as elegant or quick a fashion as it should have been. As always, what’s an Unk Rod observing run without his silly hijinks and foulups?

Now to the heart of the matter. I removed the reticle eyepiece from the 2-inch William Optics diagonal riding on Emma’s rear port (ahem), I also removed the diagonal’s 2-inch – 1.25-inch adapter and screwed the Denkmeier StarSweeper onto it. Finally, for the first time in years, I inserted the Denk Standard into the 1.25-inch adapter (the Denkmeier Standard binoviewer has a 1.25-inch barrel).

First (new) light? There wasn’t a whole lot to choose from. M13 would obviously have been a natural, but Hercules was cloud city. Slightly lower down on the eastern horizon, little Lyra was almost in the clear, so I mashed the buttons for M57 and away we went.

When the VX’s motors stopped their (fairly) subdued whining, in went my pair of GTO 25mm Plössls and Unk had a look through a binoviewer for the first time in a long, long time. The little oval smoke ring was near the center of the field, hardly surprising for the VX at the modest power of 60x or so. But that was good, anyhow. What was real good, though? Focused up the scope and suddenly that little ring wasn’t just there, it was floating in front of the star field. Sweet.

As I mentioned last time, the faux 3D effect of a binoviewer—the tiny baseline between your eyes isn't enough to show distant sky optics in real 3D—is one of the big draws of these devices. It never fails to impress and amuse me. Sometimes, it’s a little weird, with a galaxy seeming to be in front of field stars, but this view was just right, with M57 sitting in front of those distant suns.

Where to next? Other than a sizeable sucker hole to the southeast, we was almost socked in, now. At least the Ophiuchus and Serpens area, one of my favorite summertime hangouts, was a little more cloud free than the rest of the sky. When Taras hollered something about M5 looking pretty good, I decided that was the nextun.

M5 is one of my fave globular star clusters. I maybe even like it better than I do M13, so I was happy to give it a look-see. Alas, it was but a pale shadow of its normal beautiful self. Despite that, the Denks were doing a pretty good job with it. Decent resolution despite the messy skies. The cluster showed the same 3D effect as M57, if not as strongly. While on the cluster, I tried to get the interpupillary spacing set just right on the Denkmeier, since our next target would tax Unk’s image-merging capabilities.

When the VX stopped, not only was Saturn in the field, there were two Saturns there. Switching out the 25mm GTOs for the 9mm pair, which gave maybe 150x with my optical configuration, just made things worse. I knew not to panic. There was nothing wrong with the Denkmeier, just as there was nothing wrong with my great, big Tachyon 25x100 binoculars when I last used them seriously on the deep sky down in Chiefland a couple of years ago.

I know, KNOW, friends, that for some objects there is nothing like viewing with two eyes. On the above mentioned CAV trip, the big binoculars on their homebrew (kit) mount showed Uncle Rod the summer Milky Way like I had never, ever seen it in five decades of observing. I had to pay my dues to get those views, howsomeever.

Just as with the Denk on Saturn, the Tachyons initially showed me two images, especially of brighter stars. To get past that I had to do what I’d learned to do years back when I first tried my friend Pat Rochford’s old TeleVue binoviewer. First off, I have to adjust the spacing between the two eyepieces, their interpupillary spacing, carefully. Has to be dead right. Then, I have to focus carefully for both eyes. With a binoviewer, I usually focus the left eye with the main scope focus, and slide the right eyepiece in and out till it is sharp, too (the Tachyons have individual focus for each eyepiece).

That is usually not enough, however. I also have to get comfortable (I’d brought my beloved Buyastrostuff observing chair with me on this run for that reason), I have to kinda semi-relax my eyes, I have to hold my head just right, and sometimes it seems like I even have to hold my tongue just right. The combination of all those things invariably leads to success, and on this night I was soon seeing one Saturn instead of two.

How did it look? Right good given the conditions. Initially, the seeing hadn’t been bad, but as more clouds started drifting through and a strong breeze blew up, it became less good. The ringed wonder was sharp, with Cassini’s like a knife-edge, but I didn't really get a look at the Crepe Ring, and detail on Saturn’s disk was barely there.

After Saturn, I went back to M5 to see how it would be at 150x, but at that power it was just too dim given the layer of haze, and I soon decamped for M80. The little globular in Scorpius was more in the clear than anything else at the time. How was it? Good and bad.

I was surprised the Denk was showing a little resolution in this small, tight globular at low power (I’d gone back to the 25mm eyepieces), and that was cool. The glob looked as good, frankly, as it usually does under far better conditions with an 8-inch scope. And yet…and yet…  The field of M80 is fairly rich, and I couldn’t say I was that happy with the way the stars looked out on the edge. Oh, they was OK, but they weren't perfect. I guess I’ve just got spoiled by the perfect stars in the barefoot Edge 800 or the Edge 800 and Edge f/7 reducer combo. If I use the Denk with the C8 next time, I might see if it will come to focus with the f/7 rig.

“If?”  Yep. I am going to say rat-cheer that the Denk is much more pleasant to use in my NexStar 11. It isn’t because of that scope’s greater light gathering power, either. It is because I habitually run Big Bertha in alt-azimuth mode.

When I was slewing back t M5, the tube “rotated” as a tube will do as an equatorial mount moves across the sky. The problem was that I hadn’t cranked down the William Optics SCT-style diagonal quite firmly enough. As I watched, the diagonal with that big binoviewer in it flopped down. I was there to grab it, and the Denk didn't threaten to come out of the diagonal and hit the ground, but Unk’s withered little heart did skip a beat or two, nevertheless. In an alt-az mode SCT, the binoviewer doesn't rotate and tend to twist loose.

I took a look at Mars after I calmed down, but it wasn’t much, even in the 9mm GTOs. It is well on its way to being tiny again, the seeing now sucked, and Unk’s poor eyes—which his eye doctor has informed him will need cataract surgery in a year or two—just ain’t up to the task of prising detail out of an uber small angry red planet no more.

I had a look at M4, the loose globular cluster over in Scorpius, and it was purty nice. Back to Saturn for a minute. One last look at M5, and I thought it might be Big Switch Time—because of the sky and nothing else. At this time of year, I would normally have been miserably damp with dew and bitten to hell and back by skeeters, but not tonight. The steady breeze kept the dew light, and maybe also put the kibosh on the bugs, though I suspect my Thermacell, which I’d lit off the second I hit the field, had more to do with that. It was only 10 in the p.m., but the sky was getting worse by the minute, and Max and Taras agreed with me we might as well give in to the inevitable.

By 10:20 I was on the road home, and shortly before 11 p.m. I was tucking Miss Van Pelt in in the carport of the New Manse. Svengoolie was over, dernit—he'd showed another of Unk’s faves, Brides of Dracula—but all was not lost. I opened a Kolorado Kool-aid, and, after a little cable surfing, found a replay of the evening’s Braves vs. Phillies game. Watching the Braves put a hurtin’ on the Phillies almost made up for Unk’s semi-skunking on the observing field.

When will I get the Denks out again? Soon, I hope, but there is a lot on my plate right now, including checking out the Mallincam Micro. I also want to get back to work on my Messier Album Project. There is a CAV run for me and D. in the offing. I am planning to do considerable sketching of the brighter Herschel 400 II objects. I need to get Old Betsy, my 12-inch Dob, cleaned up and operational after our move. I also want to (finally) figure out how to interface Bets’ Sky Commander DSCs to SkyTools 3…and—well, what I want to know, muchachos, is how in the hell did I find the time to do astronomy before I retired?

Next Time:  Wired Betsy...

This is just what I was afraid was going to happen, muchachos. “What’s that, Unk?” The arrival of summer has brought mucho clouds with it—big surprise. With the Solstice came the afternoon thundershowers whose clouds linger well past sunset. Not that I didn't have hopes for this past Saturday evening. The cotton-picking Clear Sky Clock (I still can’t get myself to call it “Clear Sky Chart”) showed a few light blue squares, so Unk high-tailed it to the Possum Swamp Astronomical Society dark site. I had a mission, you see.

The genesis of that mission came one recent morning when I was puttering around the New Manse. I don’t teach at the university in the summer, and I was caught up on my writing for Sky and Telescope for the moment, so I was idly rearranging some of the astro-gear I’d stashed in the shop when we moved in. What should I run across in the course of that but the case containing my good, old Denkmeier binoviewer.

If you were a member of our avocation about ten years ago, you’ll recall binoviewers, devices that allow you to use two eyepieces with a telescope for binocular-style observing, enjoyed a tremendous vogue for a few years. They’d been around for a long while before that in the form of surplus microscope stereo viewer heads, but the fields of view those permitted were limited due to their small prisms, and their minimalist optical coatings meant you lost a lot of light. They were cool enough for viewing the Moon and planets, but that was it.

As the 21st century got underway, though, TeleVue and other companies began selling binoviewers specifically designed for astronomical use, including on the deep sky. Using two eyes at the scope seemed a natural, and before long, in addition to TV, new outfits like Denkmeier, Siebert Optics, and Burgess Optical jumped into the two-eyed-viewing game with a wide range of binoviewers from inexpensive imported ones not much different from the old microscope heads to massive (and expensive) models capable of using 2-inch eyepieces.

For a couple of years, Unk was binoviewer crazy. I tried and reviewed not just the TeleVue and Denkmeier units, but models from Burgess, Celestron, and others.  New binoviewers, including, natch, el cheapo Chinese ones, were hitting the market every day and the binoviewing forum on Astromart was insanely active.

Yessir, binoviewing was all the rage for a while. It almost took on the tenor of a holy CRUSADE against what us cognoscenti called “Cyclops (one-eyed) observing.” Then, after a few years, it all just stopped. Well, not really. There’s still an active binoviewer forum on the pea-picking Cloudy Nights BBS, but the binoviewer brigade is unquestionably smaller than it was in its heyday. Why? I’m not sure. Hell, I’m not completely sure why I stopped binoviewing.

Suddenly, Unk, like a lot of other folks, went back to Cyclops-style. In my case, it wasn’t because I’d come to dislike binoviewing.  I’d just moved on to other things—largely Stellacam and then Mallincam video cameras. When it came to visual observing, those dadgum Ethos eyepieces had me in their grip. Stingy ol’ Unk wasn’t about to spend for pairs of ‘em and a 2-inch binoviewer that could handle the long focal length 100-degree jobs just to keep going with two eyes. So, the Denks stayed in their case for dern near eight years.

Which brings us back around to Unk idly peering at the Denks’ case one bright suburban morning.  Almost against my will, I picked up said case, dusted it off, and carried it inside the house. There, I had a look at the Denkmeier Standard binoviewer. Still in perfect shape. There was the StarSweeper f/6 focal reducer I’d used with it on so many nights. And the pairs of Hands On Optics GTO Plössl eyepieces I’d accumulated for the Denk—I’d meant to upgrade to “better” (wider AFOV) oculars, but never quite got around to it before I stopped binoviewing.

Anyhoo, looking at the Denk, I began to recall how much fun I’d had with it, and soon went from reminiscing to becoming determined to take the thing out to the PSAS dark site Saturday night and see how it would work with my Edge 800 C8, Mrs. Emma Peel.

That was the plan, anyhow, and Saturday dawned reasonably clear. Then came those dadgum early evening showers, which left plenty of clouds behind when they finally moved out. Should I throw in the towel? When I’ve done that, I’ve often missed a great night, so I stuck to my mantra:  “If It Ain't Raining, Head to the Dark Site.” Unk loaded up the 4Runner, Miss Lucille Van Pelt, and lit out about 7:15 in the p.m.

This time of year, there’s always a chance the clouds you are seeing over your head are a local phenomenon, and that a few miles away you’ll find blue sky. That was the theory, but when I arrived at our much-loved observing site, an airfield that is closed at night, the clouds were, if anything, thicker than they had been at home. What was that off to the west?  A lightning bolt in a particularly thick patch that appeared to be headed my way, dagnabbit.

I hung out on the field for another half hour to see if the sky would improve or if I’d be joined by any of my Possum Swamp A.S. compadres. “Nope” to both. I visited with the big yellow tomcat who makes his home in a hangar, killed a few more minutes walking around, and finally did throw in that accursed towel at about 8:30. With thunder booming and lightning growing ever  closer, Unk quitted the field with no little alacrity. I hadn’t unpacked a thing, so it wasn’t long before I was back at the New Manse, ensconced in the den and watching Svengoolie, who was showing a goodie, Curse of the Werewolf.

I’d seen that urpic of a horror film just a few months back, though, so I didn't give it my full attention. Instead, between draughts of Yell I was ruminating on the question of what the next blog should be about. Since my plan to do dark site binoviewing was now in ruins, I thought I’d give the Mallincam Micro EX a good workout in the backyard. It had impressed me at the Deep South Regional Star Gaze Spring Scrimmage in April, even though I’d had to shoot through sucker holes.

Alas, the weather gods ruled against the Mallincam, too. I hope to get the Micro out of mothballs soon, but I wasn’t able to last week, which was even cloudier than the previous one had been. Thanks to Mr. Jack Huerkamp, I have a new video cable and am ready to go whenever the weather changes for even the slightly better.

What about this week? There’s always the vaunted “My Favorite Fuzzies” and “My Favorite Star Parties” to fill in the holes, but then I had an idea (Unk still gets 'em occasionally). It occurred to me some of y’all missed the binoviewer explosion of a decade ago and might be interested in reading my review of the Denkmeier Standard from back then. This piece has appeared in several places over the years, including Cloudy Nights, and I was happy enough with it, but one look showed it could use some serious tweaking. Which is what I did. Next week, you should get “Revenge of the Return of the Denkmeier,” but this morning, from 2004, here is “Return of the Denkmeier”…

As some of y’all may have read, I had the opportunity to test the Denkmeier II Binoviewer a couple of months back. I was suitably impressed, but due to the weather we were experiencing down here on the Gulf Coast at the time, my opportunity to use the “Denk” on a variety of objects was limited.

Saturn looked great, the Moon looked great, but clouds and haze prevented me from using the binoviewer on any but the most prominent deep sky wonders. M42 was superb and so were a couple more bright Messiers, but conditions didn't allow going deeper. What I wanted to know was “How does a binoviewer, a modern top-of-the-line binoviewer, do on a wide variety of deep sky objects?” Especially dimmer ones. Sadly, the Denkmeier II had to go back to its maker, so I was left wondering.

Unk was not to remain in the dark long. The good folk at Denkmeier Optical soon asked if I'd like to borrow their newest baby, the Standard binoviewer, for further testing. Since my experience with the Denk II, the company’s 2-inch binoviewer (the barrel that goes in the star diagonal only; the eyepiece holders are 1.25-inch), had been positive enough to make me something of a binoviewing convert, I couldn't help but say "yes."

By way of background, before I tested the Denkmeier II, I was not much of a fan of binoviewers. I had never had much success using them. I couldn't easily merge their images, resulting in eyestrain and headaches. Even when I could get the two pictures together, objects, including the Moon and planets, seemed dim, and longer focal length wide field eyepieces were “vignetted”—their fields were cut off. I was pretty sure binoviewing was Not for Me.

You can read the story of my experience with the Denkmeier II in my review, “How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love Binoviewers,” but to boil things down for y’all, I found it easy to merge images with it. Observing with the Denk II was far more comfortable and rewarding than I’d imagined.

In fact, the only criticism I had of the Denkmeier was its friction-fit eyepiece holders. None of my eyepieces ever dropped to the ground, and they would stay put when I slid them in and out for diopter adjustment, but they weren't as secure as they could have been. According to Denkmeier, that one problem had been corrected. They said both the premium Denkmeier II and the Standard Denkmeier (1.25-inch barrel) now had twist-lock self-centering eyepiece holders. I figgered that would be a far better arrangement and was anxious to see how well it worked.

When the box containing the new Denk arrived at Chaos Manor South, you can bet your old Uncle immediately ripped into that sucka. Within was a black plastic case of obvious sporting goods store heritage—a pistol case like they sell at Academy—that nevertheless provided adequate protection for the binoviewer and its accessories.

Inside that minimalist case was Denkmeier’s Standard SCT Package. In addition to a 1.25-inch barrel binoviewer, there was a 2" StarSweeper (focal reducer), a 2x "multiplier" lens (Barlow), and requisite adapters. The binoviewer itself? I could tell at first blush that the eyepiece holders on the Standard were a major improvement. Smoothly threaded, they held eyepieces securely when the lock rings were screwed down and seemed easy to use as well as attractive.

Naturally, the arrival of the new binoviewer brought considerable cloudiness with it. Apparently, the dreaded new scope curse doesn't just apply to telescopes. Nevertheless, I was able to get the Denk out to the Possum Swamp Astronomical Society’s in-town observing site for a shakedown one night. Using it there showed how much nicer the new eyepiece setup was, but the light pollution didn't allow me to assess what the Denkmeier could do with the deep deep sky. 

For that, I needed dark skies. Well, the legendary Chiefland (Astronomy Village) Star Party was right around the corner. For those of y’all who've never attended that event, you dang sure should; the skies are D-A-R-K and the temperatures are almost always balmy into the late fall. The trip to the CAV is a reasonably easy one for me; it’s about 6 hours from the Swamp to Chiefland, which is roughly 65 miles north of Gainesville in the Florida interior.

Anyhoo, I packed up the Denk, a box of eyepieces, and my faithful NexStar 11 GPS, Big Bertha, one amazingly cloud-free November Friday morning, and my old friend Pat Rochford and I made tracks for the Chiefland. In due course, we were Checking into our usual “campsite,” the Chiefland Holiday Inn Express, and proceeding on to the CAV. There, as it always is for the two big bi-annual star parties, the observing field was jam-packed with telescopes and amateur astronomers, and it took us quite a spell to find a spot to set up our scopes.

For once, it looked like Pat and I had hit Chiefland just right. It appeared we'd be favored with two excellent nights, and we were. I spent the first one working my observing list (I am determined to finally finish the dadgum Herschel 400) in single eyepiece mode with the aid of the StarSweeper focal reducer. As I reported in my earlier review of the Denkmeier, I'm impressed with that gadget with or without a binoviewer. It provides a decent-looking field edge with most eyepieces, and I really didn't miss the Celestron f/6.3 reducer - corrector I normally use with the NexStar 11. One thing’s sure:  the StarSweeper is mucho better than the f/5 reducers we used in the bad old days.

I did break out the Denk for Saturn on the first night, and with the planet riding high as 3 a.m. approached, the view in a pair of 8mm Plössls was freaking amazing. I was just blown away, campers. The color variations across the ring system, from the dusky red of the Crepe Ring to the dirty yellows and snowy whites of the A and B rings, was amazing. The disk itself was highly detailed, with the banding beginning to look more like Jupiter's belts than the faint pastel smudges you usually see on Saturn.

Yes, as I don't think many folks will dispute, you can see more detail on the planets with a binoviewer than with a single eyepiece, no matter how good that single eyepiece. But that’s the Solar System, which has always been the beat of binoviewers. Would the Denkmeier Deepsky Binoviewer live up to its name? That was a question for the next night. Just as I finished admiring the ringed wonder, the sky began to degrade noticeably and Mr. Pat and I retired to the Holiday Inn for cable TV and, in Unk’s case, a large portion of the Rebel Yell.

Saturday dawned clear and reasonably crisp (it’s hard to escape humidity down Chiefland Way, even in November), and it was obvious it was going to stay that way. Pat and I hit the Chiefland Wal-Mart for some necessities—beef jerky (for the field) and Kolorado Kool-aid (for after)—and proceeded to the CAV to prepare for what would obviously be a long evening of deep sky voyaging.

Enough with the Cyclops-style deep sky observing. As the Sun sank, I declared my NexStar 11 a "single-eyepiece-free zone" and got the binoviewer ready to go on the telescope’s rear port. Using the 1.25" barrel version of the Denk was not a huge hassle. Yes, the Denkmeier II has some advantages beyond a 2" barrel, including superior coatings and tighter optical tolerances. The Standard doesn't give up much of anything optically that I could see, however, and I found its smaller barrel not to be a problem.

A good 1.25 – 2-inch adapter, my compression-ring-equipped Intes, in a 2-inch star diagonal provided a secure mounting for the binoviewer and I didn't miss the larger barrel of the more expensive Denk. The Denkmeier Standard is, like any binoviewer, heavy, especially with two eyepieces onboard, and you definitely want to use it with a hefty 2-inch diagonal and adapter. The StarSweeper reducer, which is a 2-inch accessory, can either be attached to the the nose of the Denk via an included adapter or screwed onto any 2-inch – 1.25-inch eyepiece adapter that is threaded for filters—which is what I did.

I suppose the most memorable view I had on Saturday night was NOT M42, though I did take a good long look at it once it cleared the horizon, natcherly. No, the hit was M33. With a pair of 25mm Plössls in the Denk and the StarSweeper screwed-on, it was perfectly framed. Big enough to show plenty of detail, but enough dark sky around it to provide good contrast.

The first thing I noticed when Bertha’s slew stopped at the Triangulum Galaxy was how easy it was to see spiral structure. The Pinwheel shape was prominent. This was a good night, however, a very good night, so to make sure conditions weren't giving the Denk a big leg up, I removed the binoviewer and switched to a single eyepiece, a 22mm TeleVue Panoptic. The spiral structure was considerably less evident. Back in went the Denk in a right quick hurry. The galaxy's huge HII regions, its equivalents of our Orion and Tarantula Nebulae, were picked off one after another, but the real treat was the tiny burning nucleus of M33 winking in and out.

Of course, there's always the question of brightness when using a binoviewer on the deep sky. There is no question that a binoviewer decreases the amount of light reaching each eyepiece. There’s a beam-splitter dividing the light between two oculars, after all. How obvious and serious is this? With the Denkmeier Standard, it was evident but not a handicap. Yes, when I went back to Cyclops-mode observing, I could detect an increase in image brightness, but not as much as I expected. Anyway, the increase in detail I noted with the binoviewer was well worth a small brightness penalty.

Did this decrease in brightness make any objects normally visible in the C11 disappear when I used the Denkmeier? No. I found any galaxy visible with a single eyepiece was also visible in the binoviewer. I took particular care to check this, and looked at a variety of smaller galaxies in the magnitude 12 – 13 range. Any that were visible in a single eyepiece showed up in the Denks as well. As with M33, brighter galaxies that had details to give up gave up those details more easily to the binoviewer than to a Cyclops-mode eyepiece.

Sumpin’ else kinda cool about the Denk? You sure can "wow" people with it. Being a recent convert to the binoviewing religion, I naturally wanted to do a little proselytizing, but I didn't really have to. The word spread that I had a Denkmeier, the only one on the field, and that ensured I had a steady stream of visitors wanting to check it out. One look at M42 peppered with "3D stars" and I had plenty of converts.

3D? Yep. Obviously, the tiny baseline formed by the distance between your eyes ain’t close to large enough to show any sky object in true 3D. However, your brain doesn't know that. You are looking with two eyes, so you MUST be seeing in three-dimensions. The faux 3D effect produced by a binoviewer is both beautiful and downright startling.

There were, by the way, several other brands of binoviewers on the field and I had the opportunity to compare their performance to that of the Standard Denkmeier, if not in side-by-side fashion. My opinion? For me, the Denkmeier worked better and was more comfortable to use. I do understand "comfort" when using binoviewers is a subjective thing, and that what suits one person might not suit another, but I can only report what I experienced, y’all.

Did I say M33 was my fave? Actually, my most memorable observation at Chiefland was not M33. Oh, that was great, but the greatest sight came in the last hour of the star party, just before it was time to head back to the motel in preparation for the drive home in the morning. Done showing off M42 to yet more visitors, I moved the scope to the nearby and normally subdued Running Man Nebula just north of M42 in Orion’s Sword.

In the past, I'd often admired the star cluster there, NGC 1977, but I’d never been completely sure I'd seen the nebula around the bright stars, the Running Man. It's like the Merope reflection nebula in the Pleiades; it's easy to mistake scattered light in the scope/eyepiece for nebulosity. Nevertheless, the Denk pulled-out the real deal. Not just haze around bright stars, but a big thing fanning off into space and showing surprising detail—including a dark central region in the shape, of, yep, a little running man.

What a night! Wish you'd been there.

And so it went Down Chiefland Way back in 2004, muchachos. What Unk wonders nearly a decade later is whether he'll still like the Denk as much in 2014 as he did in 2004.  I have hopes. And reservations—my eyes are certainly not what they were ten years ago, and I have never had a particularly easy time merging images, not even in low power binoculars. We shall see. Stay tuned.

Next Time: Revenge of the Return of the Denkmeier.

Plenty of y’all like the Celestron CG5, muchachos; even members of the “An A-P Mach 1 is the minimum mount for astrophotography” crowd admit it was a pretty good little GEM (German Equatorial Mount) for a little money. But it still doesn't get all the credit it deserves. Mainly for being the mount that gave plenty of near-cast-off 1980s and 1990s SCTs a second lease on life.

Howsomeever, I come here not just to praise the CG5. No matter how fondly we remember Celestron’s first popularly priced go-to GEM—it was superseded last year by the new VX—it was not perfect. Not hardly. And reviewing some of those imperfections may help elucidate the situation regarding the VX, which—surprise—ain’t perfect either.

The GEM we know and love as the CG5 wasn’t actually Celestron’s first CG5. By the mid 1990s, the company was selling Chinese clone copies of the Vixen mount formerly sold with the Great Polaris C8, which was the follow-on from the company’s earlier C8 + GEM configuration, the Super Polaris C8. The GP C8 was popular, but it was only popular at a price point around 1000 dineros. With Vixen gaining popularity at the time and increasing prices out of all reason, that price point was impossible for Celestron to maintain.

Enter the CG5. The initial CG5 looked a lot like what we think of as a CG5 today sans motor housings and an electronic control panel. No go-to for this 90s GEM. You could, however, order it with a pair of bolt on Chinese motors that provided tracking and slow motion/guiding via a dual axis HC that ran off D batteries. Superficially, it looked a lot like a Great Polaris down to the D battery bag with its silly little “purse” handle.

Appearances often deceive in the import scope biz, however, and the CG5 was no exception. It was OK, mind you, especially if you took the time to clean out the Chinese glue-grease (made of ground up weasels, apparently) and relube it. Unfortunately, though, it didn’t have ball bearings. Plastic sleeve “bearings” were on both axes and that limited the mount’s performance potential. My good friend Pat Rochford had one of these proto CG5s for a while, which he rigged up with the Mel Bartels home-brew go-to system, and while his mount  worked, it just barely worked.

When Celestron announced a go-to configurated CG5, the “ASGT” CG5 (Advanced Series Go To), I was appalled. Given my experiences with Pat’s CG5, I couldn’t believe this would work reliably, not unless major improvements were made to the mount.

Celestron (and Synta, the mount’s Chinese maker, who was soon to own Celestron) knew that, too, and had made improvements. The glue grease was gone. While the bearing situation on the declination axis was unchanged, there were now ball bearings on RA. The mount was also somewhat (if not a whole lot) better finished. The bolt-on motors had been replaced by servos in plastic housings. The non-goto CG5’s dreadful extruded aluminum tripod was trashed in favor of a hefty 2-inch diameter tubular steel-legged job. Maybe most importantly, go-to was furnished with a standard Celestron NexStar HC, which was getting better all the time.

Unk was still skeptical but not immune to the ASGT’s charms. I had been spoiled by the goto on my NexStar 11 GPS, which I got in 2002, and it was getting ever harder to make myself use my old fork mount Ultima C8, Celeste. Which was a shame. She had good optics, especially by the standards of the mid 1990s. Didn't matter. I was over polar-aligned fork mounts. I had had enough of navigating the sky with finder, Telrad, analog setting circles, and freaking Sky Atlas 2000.

Anyhow, it sure would have been nice to have a go-to rig a little lighter than the NS11. There was the non-GPS NexStar 8, but that telescope and the similar NexStar 5s I’d tried left me cold regarding their so-so go-to accuracy. Howzabout a NexStar 8 GPS? Unk, stingy then as now, didn’t want to pony up that much cash.

Hokay, I’d get me a cotton-picking ASGT CG5.  Just the mount. I’d defork the Ultima 8 OTA, and give it a whirl. If I decided I liked using a C8 on a goto GEM, I’d put the CG5 on Astromart and get a good goto GEM. A Vixen or a Losmandy or sumpin’. I was sure the CG5 wouldn’t have the go-to chops to keep me happy.

My purchase of a CG5 was not without incident—Unk’s astro-gear purchases never are. On its way to me from Anacortes, Washington in the spring of ought five, the UPS truck it was in crashed and burned on the Interstate. The good folk at Anacortes Telescope and Wild Bird got another one on its way to me promptly, however, and the delay gave me time to figger out how to get the C8 off her fork and equipped with a dovetail. It turned out that wasn’t much of a task. Removed some screws, and the Ultima 8, Celeste, was free of her old-timey mount. A few dollars to Scopestuff for the dovetail and maybe 15-minutes attaching it to the tube and we was ready to go.

As I have told y’all before, I was gobsmacked when I got the C8/CG5 combo into the backyard. I hadn’t expected much in the way of goto accuracy; nevertheless, after a simple three-star alignment, the mount placed anything I requested smack in the field of my 12mm Nagler. The hand control operation was identical to that of the 11 GPS, and Unk just fraking zoomed around the sky. The first night, anyway.

The second night? That was testimony to the split personality of the CG5. After my success at first light, I was anxious to give the mount a second night in Chaos Manor South’s backyard (which in the early spring of 2005 still had enough openings among the trees to allow me to see a few things). Started the alignment, the scope headed for star one, and kept right on going past it till I killed the power. “Well, hot damn. Dadgum thing lasted all of one night.”

The declination axis seemed to be the problem, so I opened up the motor housing. All seemed well. I put it back together and hit Chaos Manor South’s kitchen computer for a look through the archives of the (already burgeoning) ASGT Yahoogroup, which I’d joined when I first ordered the CG5. I was swiftly edumacated about one of the mount’s Achilles’ heels, POWER.

Seemed as this was one power hungry sucka. I was accustomed to getting two nights (partial nights, anyway) out of the NS11’s battery without charging it. That, I read, was not going to be the case with the CG5. If you didn’t start each evening with a fully charged batt’ry you was in for t-r-o-u-b-l-e. There was also the mount-side power connector. The center pin of which was composed of two halves that apparently never made good contact with the power cord’s connector.

The simple solutions, I read, were to charge your battery, natch, and to use a knife or jeweler’s screwdriver to gently spread the pin halves a mite. I did both things and hoped for the best on night three. I was rewarded with sterling, nearly unbelievably good, performance. It is no exaggeration to say I saw more with the C8 in the first year it was on the CG5 than I had with it the previous ten years. The Celeste went from being a bench warmer to being my most used scope again.

So the goto was good. How about tracking? Not bad, not bad at all. Now that I had a manageable C8 on a go-to mount, I decided it was time to try that fraking electronic imaging bidness again via the inexpensive Meade DSI. When I used the NexStar HC’s built in polar alignment procedure (the old non-AllStar one that had you center Polaris), I could easily get decent unguided 30-second sub frames I was able to stack into nice finished shots. When I moved up to a big-boy cam, an SBIG ST2000, I could do 10-minute self guided shots without much hassle.

As always, when it came to the CG5’s nature there was a good angel and a bad angel, however. Yes, the scope could guide well (some users had problems with stiction in dec guiding, but I never did). BUT… only if you were properly balanced, a little east heavy that is. Ignore that and you would get trailed stars. Move to a different position in the sky, maybe closer to the horizon, where your balance was not so hot? You’d get star trails again if you didn't re-balance. A pain in the butt, yeah, but manageable considering the mount’s 800 buck price tag.

I loved doing visual observing with the help of the CG5’s wonderful goto system, but that wasn’t perfect either. Those of y’all used to Celestron’s current GEM mounts, the VX, the CGEM, etc., are more than familiar with the 2+4 alignment method. Align on two stars, add (up to) four calibration stars, and your gotos are crazy good all over the sky. But did you know ‘twarn’t always so? That the original CG5 didn’t have no calibration stars?

What it had was a three-star alignment like the current SynScan mounts. That was OK, but, as with the SynScans, you had to be damned careful about your alignment star choices. As I found out during the mount’s first visit to the Chiefland Astronomy Village. That was, I recall, in the spring of 2006, and on the first night, things didn’t go as I’d hoped. As usual, I just accepted the three stars the alignment routine offered. Now for some Virgo galaxies. Alas, anything I slewed to was on the hairy edge of a low power eyepiece or just outside the field.

Standing on the crowded observing field with Pat Rochford, I thunk and I thunk. “Hmmm…the first alignment two stars shore were low on the horizon.” I powered down, did another three-star, and rejected the first stars the HC offered, selecting a pair a little higher up. BAM! Anything in the Virgo cluster was well within the field of my 12mm Nag again.

These were early days for the CG5, and Celestron was continuing to work on its HC code, so I figgered there would be improvements. I also knew those improvements would come at a cost. The original CG5 HC, you see, just like the original NS11 HC, was not upgradeable. Want improved firmware? That meant a new HC at worst or sending the controller back to California at best. Luckily, by the time I got my mount, Celestron had fixed the worst faux pas in the CG5 code—which caused runaway slewing during gotos and guiding.

As I’d hoped, Celestron soon came out with a user-programmable hand control, and the improvements in the CG5 firmware began to come thick and fast. Some were a godsend, like the 2+4 alignment routine, others, like AllStar, took a while to catch on with me. While I usually ran the mount with NexRemote, I nevertheless bought a new “Version 4” programmable hand control for those times when I didn’t want to tote a computer. The 2+4 alignment was so good that after that firmware upgrade (version 4.10), I never used the original hand control again.

Finally, about five years in, another notorious CG5 problem bit Unk. The mount’s control panel was small and the power switch was correspondingly tiny. It was also crappily made. I have never heard of a CG5 switch that’s lasted more than five years.

Luckily, I knew what to do when the switch failed on me. Power light wouldn’t come on. HC was dead. I unplugged from the battery and exercised the switch mucho times. Plugged the power cord back in, turned the switch on and the power came up.  I knew it wouldn’t last, though. Once that little switch went, it was a gone pecan. The answer—if you were lazy like Unk and didn’t want to replace the switch—was to leave it in the on position and turn power on and off by plugging and unplugging the cord. Not elegant, but it worked and still does.

Yeah, the CG5 was a great mount but it wasn’t perfect now matter what old timers like Unk “remember.” The new VX is considerably better in comparison. The CG5’s corners have mostly been rounded off. That nasty little power switch and iffy connector have been replaced. The finish of the mount is mucho bettero. It’s even a little quieter than the CG5, which as I have said more’n once sounds like a weasel with tuberculosis when slewing at high speed.

None of which makes me or the other folks who’ve received a bum VX feel much better, of course. As I related here, my initial mount head had improperly threaded holes for the declination shaft’s toe-saver and, fatally, for the tripod’s threaded rod. Bolted mount to tripod and that central bolt locked forever.

The up side, however, is not just that my replacement mount was perfect, but that us VXers didn't have to live through the travails of the CG5’s early adopters:  runaway slews, punk alignments, slow boat gotos to nowhere, and more. The VX has had a few problems, but its introduction has been a helluva lot smoother than that of the old reliable CG5, that’s for sure.

The CG5 did mature, however, at least vis-à-vis the hand control and its firmware (mechanically the mount never changed much over its lifetime). In the end, the CG5 became a SOLID performer. But what’s it like to use one today, in this day of the VX and the innovative mounts coming out of places like iOptron? Unk thought he would find after not giving the CG5 a real workout in over a year. I’d had it out a few weeks back for some casual videoing, but I didn't take much care with the alignment or try to determine how it compares to the Victor X-ray. I also thought I might kill two chirpers with one rock.

I last reported on RSpec and the Star Analyser diffraction grating in January. Your old Unk was just on the crux, he thought, of learning the difficult art of astronomical spectroscopy using these excellent tools. RSpec is the software that allows you to acquire and analyze stellar spectra ; the Star Analyser is the 1.25-inch filter-like diffraction grating you screw onto your camera to turn stars into rainbows.

I was beginning to make progress, but then some things intervened. Mostly, the weather. As I don’t have to tell my fellow Southrons, it was a crazy-cloudy winter and early spring south of the Mason Dixon line. I got out a few times, but only a few, and the only really successful outing over those long months was at the 2014 Deep South Regional Star Gaze Spring Scrimmage, where I was busy wrapping up the reimaging of some Herschel Project objects.

Now that June’s here, the skies have improved, though they are not perfect—that would be a lot to ask for on the Gulf Coast with summer coming in—and at the New Manse I can now observe from my backyard. There’s light pollution, and, worse, it’s been continually hazy, but that didn't hurt my lunar imaging none, and I didn't expect it would stop me from RSpecing either.

Setup last Saturday night was a leetle different. As I’ve mentioned previously, my best view of the sky is near the deck. I plunked the CG5 tripod down there, positioned a little table on the deck for my laptop, and put all the pieces together:  Celeste on CG5, flip mirror in rear port, ZWO camera on flip mirror. Hooked the mount to the laptop via the NexRemote cable and got ready to rumble.

Need it be said that Uncle Rod’s observing runs do not usually go smoothly? My problems on this evening had nothing to do with the CG5, howsomeever. I had to pick a few alternate alignment and calibration stars due to trees, but that was it. Last cal star was near the center of my old Meade 12mm reticle eyepiece when the slew stopped. Polar alignment (via Polaris; stars to the south that would be good for AllStar are currently blocked by a tree) was a breeze. My last calibration star was Vega, so I left the mount sitting there. RSpec’s author, the talented Tom Field, advises you to begin with Vega when you are just learning, since it has a very prominent h-beta line, and is easy to “calibrate.”

I had used RSpec several times before, so I shouldn't still be “just learning,” but I had a sneaking suspicion I would be anyway. Too many months without using the program left me foundering. “How do I get it to connect to the ZWO camera? How do I set the exposure? Where do the files go?” I fooled around and fooled around, locked things up a time or two, restarted a few times and finally got back in the swing of things. Did a couple of .avi sequences of Vega, and moved on to Arcturus, Spica, and Aldebaran.

What’s it like using the CG5 in lieu of the VX? It ain’t that much different, y’all. Certainly the CG5’s goto is every bit as good. It was routinely placing stars on the tiny chip of the ZWO planet cam at f-freaking-10. Otherwise, about all I noted was that the mount does have more declination backlash than the VX. Reverse declination directions, and it can take quite a while for the mount to start moving. Not at all unmanageable, but worse than in the newer mount. Oh, and it’s definitely louder than the Victor X-ray. My new next-door neighbor stuck his head out mid-evening, no doubt wondering what that weird whining noise was.

Last star in the can, I headed to the den to watch the remainder of Svengoolie, who was showing a good one—Evil of Frankenstein—after a long dry spell.  A little Yell and a little Hammer horror and it was soon well after midnight and time for some shut-eye. As always, I didn't even peek at my images; that would wait for morning.

Sunday morning, I did yet more fumbling on the way to getting my spectra calibrated (converting pixels to angstroms, that is), but I got ‘er done despite the fact that during our move I lost the RSpec cheat-sheet I’d made up. I still have a long way to go with spectroscopy and I am starting all over, but Vega, from what silly old Unk can tell, is my best spectrogram yet. RSpec was great. The Star Analyser was great. The ZWO was great. But what was the greatest despite its few blemishes was my wonderful old CG5. Long may she wave, muchachos, long may she wave.

Next Time: Revenge of the Return of the Denkmeier…