Sunday, September 29, 2024
Issue 608: Project BCH Lives
What’s up this month, muchachos? What’s goin’ down at Chaos Manor South? Well, I thought I’d get out and “do” one of the late-summer chapters from The Urban Astronomer’s Guide, maybe one of my favorites, “The Friendly Stars.” Yeah…no. I’ve revisited that one more than once in the years since the book was published. What then? Howsabout a chapter from somebody else’s observing book? One far more famous than my scribblings?
Set the WABAC machine for a decade ago. In 2014, your
just-retired Uncle had finally wrapped up the vaunted Herschel Project and
was looking for something to replace it. I thought that might be what I initially
called “The Burnham Project,” and later “The BCH Project.” What I planned to do
was observe all the objects in Robert Burnham Junior’s justly famous Burnham’s Celestial Handbook.
Well, not quite all of them. There are thousands of
bright stars, variable stars, and double and multiple stars in the Handbook if
you include the object lists that accompany each constellation’s chapter. A
huge number of mostly pedestrian-looking stars would be a bit much, I reckoned,
and pared things down, but even the resulting 800 objects began to seem to be
that daunting “too much.” So, I thought I’d confine myself to the DSOs Burnham
details in the body of each chapter in his “Descriptive Notes.”
That’s what I thought I was gonna do, anyway.
Unfortunately, The BCH Project died on the vine. Why? The reasons I gave myself, including that I didn’t feel a “connection” with
Burnham, weren’t really the problem. The problem was after three years of observing
the Herschel objects like a madman, everything else seemed like small potatoes.
Or, maybe even moreso, that I wasn’t quite ready to let the Herschel Project go.
What I really wanted was to relive the years of the Herschel
Project. In 2014, my life was changing, and I sure did miss the go-go days of The
Project—jumping in the 4Runner and heading for the Chiefland Astronomy Village (and
Cedar Key) at the drop of a hat.
So, the BCH Project never did get off the ground.
I did some preliminary observing for it and dropped it. I tried again, but
no-go. I started looking for something else, some other big project. That
failed miserably, as well. The truth, Unk eventually admitted? The Herschel
Project was the big observing project of a lifetime, and there was
no replacing it.
Today, my perspective is decidedly different. I don’t like
to drive the Interstates anymore, and even if I did, there’s no bringing back the
Chiefland of a decade or two ago. Latter-day Unk likes relaxed observing, both
with telescopes and cameras, in the comforting surroundings of the backyard of
the (new) Chaos Manor South. So, as I was wondering what to write about, I got
to thinking about the BCH Project again…
The more I thunk, the more fun it sounded, and the more I came
to believe I was awful misguided saying I felt no connection to Burnham and his
Handbook. Just looking at the covers of the three volumes took me back to the early
1980s when I got my first copies from the old Astronomy Book Club.
Between their covers were countless marvels and mysteries I had yet to visit.
The deep sky was still relatively new to me, and I turned to its depths with a
will. Now, the Handbook is delicious nostalgia, but not just that. Every time I
read one of Bob’s DSO descriptions, he teaches me something.
So, the plan was… the plan was… The BCH Project will be back—in the
informal style that suits your now-aged Uncle. No time limits, no object quotas,
no rules. It will be simple: When I want to, I will visit one of
Burnham’s constellations. I’ll observe his objects visually with one of my instruments
and image the wonders in my simple fashion.
Other than “informal,” what’s different from my initial go
at Burnham? My decision the first time out to limit myself to just the Descriptive
Notes objects won’t do. Some constellations, like Hercules, only describe one
or two objects. So, in addition to the Descriptive Notes fuzzies, I’d also
observe the choicer deep sky objects in each constellation’s accompanying
list.
Simple. Neat. No trouble at all (I hope). If there are
objects in the list I don’t think will look worth a flip (like teeny-tiny
planetary nebulae), I’ll skip ‘em: NO
RULES. I am now calling this series “Project BCH,” to distinguish it
from the earlier attempts. I swear I will actually DO IT this time,
y’all!
Up first? Everybody’s favorite hero and demigod, great
Hercules. The night I took the images (with my SeeStar, Suzie) was relatively
good. Hazy, sure, but mostly clear. Then came an intermission due to clouds
while we waited for Hurricane Helene to pass by well to our East. That brought
a spell of clear weather. Even one night (barely) good enough to impel your lazy old Unk to get his 10-inch Dobsonian, Zelda, into the backyard.
What was notable about that night? Other than the heavy
dew? For one thing, I found I can still wrassle the Zhumell Dob into the back
forty without much trouble. Oh, it’s not something I’d want to do every day,
but I can still do it. What’s really notable is how I sent Miss Z to her
targets: with a cell phone app called
“AstroHopper.” More about that next month (maybe); for now, all I'll say is it
worked amazingly well, placing anything I asked for in the field of a 70-degree
25mm eyepiece.
Anyhoo, here we go (as above, I skipped the teeny tiny objects in Burnham's’ list) ...
M13What could I possibly say about this globular star cluster that Bob
Burnham didn’t say eloquently in the 15 pages he devoted to the Great Glob? Not much, muchachos, not much. While much of
the science (though not all) Bob gives us is now badly dated, that is OK. The historical
background makes reading Burnham’s Descriptive Notes more than worthwhile; it
is a joy.
Unk? I did not take a separate image of Messier 13 on this night.
After all, I devoted a blog entry to “My Yearly M13”
not long back. Old Globbie did photobomb my shot of NGC 6207 and I figgered
that was enough. He was looking good, though, showing colors in his stars and
considerable resolution in a mere 15 minutes of exposure.
In the eyepiece? Well, it was what it was. Obviously, the 10-inch showed considerable resolution even at 50x. The sky background with the humidity spiking ever higher was gray, however, even at higher magnifications and didn’t make for an overly satisfying view. Yeah, it was what it was, but I have seen far worse.
NGC 6207
In the 10-inch, even on what was turning into what Unk calls "a pretty punk night," the Great Globular
wasn't a problem. But NGC 6207 was—a little bit, anyhow. Ain’t run this one down, yet? It’s a little
magnitude 11.65 SA galaxy less than half a degree from M13. Ain’t much to
it: bright core and a little elongated
fuzz around that core. The main/only attraction is that it’s close to M13 and
in the field with it in a wide field eyepiece under good conditions in a
medium-sized scope. The saving grace here is the galaxy is small enough—2’30”—that
its light is not badly spread out and it’s fairly “bright” visually.
Well, these weren’t good conditions by any stretch of the
imagination. It took about 190x with an 8mm TeleVue Ethos to convince me I was even
seeing 6207 on a worsening night (I was now having the fogged eyepiece blues).
I saw it, though, if not quite in the field with the Great One. Suze had no trouble with it whatsoever, even
lending the little sprite some form and substance.
What did Burnham say about it? Nuttin’ Honey. NGC
6207 only appears in Hercules' “List of Star Clusters, Nebulae, and Galaxies.” As
above, only two deep sky objects, M13 and M92, get Descriptive Notes. And
yet, he goes on for 18 pages about what most of us modern observers would deem
nondescript stars. That is not so
much a failing as it is just witness to the fact that Burnham’s book is from the amateur astronomy of another age.
M92
As I have often said, M92 ain’t, as some claim, a rival
for M13. Even if it were in a constellation where the spotlight wasn’t stolen
by an M13, it wouldn’t be top of the pops glob-wise. Let’s face it. It is
more like an M30 than an M2, much less an M5. Which doesn’t mean it isn’t
good. As Burnham notes, it shows resolution in fairly small telescopes—I’ve
seen stars in it with fair ease with my 3-inch APO refractor at high power. It’s
considerably looser in structure than brighter M13, making it easier to break into teeny-weeny stars.
Which Miss Zelda did this evening without complaint (I'd imaged M92 with Suzie not long ago, so we skipped this one). Not
that it looked that great visually. As did M13, it appeared badly washed out
in the eyepiece. But you take what you can get, campers. I was shocked—shocked,
I tell you—to see how low ol’ Herc has gotten by mid-evening. By 9:30 local,
M13 was barely 30 degrees above the horizon. If you want a last look at the
Hero’s wonders, best get on it.
NGC 6229
Did you know there’s another fairly easy globular star
cluster in Hercules? There is, little (2.0’) NGC 6229, one of the objects
discovered by the sainted Sir William Herschel. This magnitude 9.86 star-clump
lies about 11 degrees north of M13. I said “fairly easy,” and the emphasis is definitely
on the “fairly.”
The small size of the cluster is both a blessing and a
curse. As with NGC 6207, it does keep it reasonably bright, but it’s small
enough and still dim enough to be passed over if you don’t really pay attention
to what’s in your field. 150x is probably the magnification to begin with. As
many observers have noted, what this glob looks like visually is a small,
round planetary nebula.
Visually for me on this night? I was purty happy just to see
it as that “planetary nebula.” I have achieved resolution of 6229 from
good sites under steady seeing, but there wasn’t a prayer of that on this
evening. The Suze? As usual, she impressed, not only resolving some of the
little guy’s stars, but even showin’ some color in them.
Hercules Galaxy Cluster Abell 2151 and NGC 6045A
I reluctantly passed NGC 6210 by. This wasn’t the night for
the tiny Turtle Nebula. Suze doesn’t have enough focal length to show
much there other than a fuzz-spot. Oh, I could have applied high magnification
to the reptile with Zelda, but, strangely, on this very humid evening the
seeing was poor; usually it’s the opposite. Onward to one last object,
then. One I considered impossible all the way up until the 1990s, the distant
Hercules Galaxy Cluster, which lies some 500 million light years from the Third
Stone from the Sun.
The word on this object for amateur astronomers in the 60s –
70s? Burnham does a good job of summing it up with his caption for a 200-inch
Hale Reflector picture of the (unnamed) cluster in the book: “DISTANT FIELD
OF GALAXIES in HERCULES. A very remote group of galaxies, showing a variety of
types in a single photograph.”
Certainly, by the 1990s, I’d seen members of Abell 2151
visually with modern telescopes and eyepieces, and I’d imaged many, many of its
members with my old C11, Big Bertha, and my Mallincam Xtreme. But bring home
the Hercules Cluster with a 2-inch f/5 telescope? Nah. “That’s just too much
for you, ain’t it, Suzie?” She laughed.
You’ll find The Hercules Cluster to the west of the main part of the constellation and the stick figure. It’s near the border with Serpens Caput. I wasn’t sure the SeeStar Atlas includes the Abell clusters, so I searched on the most prominent member, NGC 6045A. Suze slewed that-a-way and began taking her 10-second integrations. Amazingly, 6045 was visible almost immediately, and more members began to pop in as the exposure progressed. Alas, by the time I’d got 21 minutes, the cluster was low and in the limbs of a neighbor’s tree.
That final result? It won’t put your eyes out, but if you zoom in a bit, Suzie’s frame shows a crazy number of wee galaxies. 6045A's wide open barred-spiral shape is even evident. Staring at the unprocessed jpg that Suze sent to my phone, it’s fair to say this old hillbilly’s jaw dropped, nearly to the floor. The freaking Hercules Cluster? With this tiny scope? Man the times they are a-changin’.And that was it, muchachos. It was miserably damp by this time. Luckily, my phone had been showing Zelda the way to targets because the Rigel Quickfinder and the 50mm RACI finder were completely dewed over (and I wasn’t in the mood to hunt up a dew-zapper gun and a battery). It was time for cold 807s and TV with the felines. Wisely, I didn’t even try to get Zelda back inside; that would wait for the morning…I was pretty sure disaster would have resulted if I’d try to get that big OTA into the sunroom in the middle of the night (well 10pm, anyhow). I covered Z, and I called it a night.
Next Time: AstroHopper.
Friday, August 30, 2024
Issue 607: Star Nests in Cygnus
I had just finished last month’s AstroBlog, muchachos, when I was moved to begin the next one. The way the weather’s been this summer, and the knowledge it will likely get worse as September and October approach, impelled me to get back to work rather than take a break. One late July evening it ‘peared the sky might be good enough for the SeeStar, Suzie, to take a few of her little celestial snapshots. The Gulf beginning to churn with storms, I figgered I’d better get after it. I’d do some visual observing of the objects next break in the clouds. Whenever that was.
“Wut objects, Unk? Wut objects, huh?” Well, Skeeter, I’ve kinda been on a roll
revisiting the chapters of my urban deep sky observing book, The Urban Astrnomer's Guide, so I figgered I’d keep on keepin’ on with that for now.
Specifically, with the Cygnus chapter, “Star Nests in Cygnus.” The ol’ Northern
Cross would be near-perfectly placed in the east mid evening, and maybe
the weather gods would indeed show your ever-hopeful Uncle some mercy.
By “star nests,” natcherly I meant “open (galactic) star
clusters.” They were a favorite of mine when Miss Dorothy and I lived downtown
in the original Chaos Manor South. They were the one deep sky object I could
see easily and well. “Opens” became something of an obsession with moi—one
time I set out to view all the clusters in Cassiopeia visible with a 12-inch
telescope from an urban backyard (recounted in Urban Astronomer’s “The
Cassiopeia Clusters”). That’s a lotta star clusters, campers, but, amazingly,
I wasn’t tired of ‘em after that binge and soon went on to survey the Swan’s
clutch.
Anyhoo, after checking-in to the Mobile Amateur Radio Club’s
Wednesday Night Net, I stuck my head out of the radio shack and had a look. As
astronomical twilight came in, it was just as Astrospheric had said: “Mostly clear.” But that blessed clear sky was accompanied
by haze and poor, very poor, transparency. Oh, well, as Unk often says, “Ain’t
nuthin’ to it but to do it.” I’d see what Suzie could pull out of a milk-washed
Cygnus.
I had set the SeeStar up on my old Manfrotto tripod just before
dark. She was leveled (a good idea if you want decent tracking) and ready to
go. All I had to do was remove the scope cover I’d put over her to ward off the
errant shower—they can show up any time of the day or night in the Swamp.
Mashed the power button, and The Suze intoned, “Power on! Ready to connect!”
Zelda. |
The first target would be Messier 39, an old favorite
located to the Northeast of shimmering Deneb. To get to it, I brought up the
SeeStar’s star atlas on the iPhone, searched for and located M39, and chose
“gazing.” Suze performed her usual initial calibrations, and, in a minute or
three, headed for the cluster. Our target was obvious even in the short
“gazing” exposures. As usual, she had placed it dead center in the frame. I
started the exposures, ten second exposures, rolling in, and headed to the
kitchen to retrieve some cold 807s (for me) and catnip (for the felines).
All Unk and the cats did for the balance of the evening was
choose the next target when the stacked results Suzie delivered to my phone
looked good enough. Given the conditions, I didn’t want to go too long. Also,
I hoped to cover all the targets in one night, and, so, limited each open
cluster to 10 minutes or less. With just a few minutes exposure, they looked purty
derned good. I did go a little longer on globular cluster M71 and M27,
The Dumbbell Nebula, my pièce de resistance for the evening. Suzie did a
nice job given the conditions.
Anyhoo, that was part one of the observing for this
one. The next morning, Miss Dorothy asked me if I didn’t miss being outside
with the telescope, “Not on a night like that one,” was my quick reply, but,
truthfully, I did miss being under the stars. That came some days later
when we got another clear—if no more transparent—evening.
Into the backyard went the 6-inch SkyWatcher (who whispered
to me her name is “Brandy,” which seems to fit). It was pretty much a
semi-scrub. Out there in the humid heat, I refamiliarized myself with the
SynScan Pro app on my iPhone that serves as Brandy’s hand control. Once I got
the hang of it, gotos were fine, even with just a two-star alignment. But you
know what? The punk sky conditions were just too much for the girl.
I was disappointed, but not much surprised. Thinking back to
my initial visual testing in the backyard of New Chaos Manor South a decade ago,
that was exactly what I’d experienced. Yes, of course the skies are better than
they were downtown. On a good, dry night, magnitude 5 stars are visible in this
suburban/country transition zone. On a dry night, which is something we
don’t often get in spring and summer (and increasingly, fall) in Possum Swamp. On
a humid summer’s eve, the heavens look much like they did from the original
Chaos Manor South in the Garden District.
How much telescope is needed for rewarding deep sky
observing under these conditions? The aforementioned testing showed that often even
8-inches wasn’t enough. At 10-inches, however, the improvement was marked. The
deep sky went from “kinda icky” to at least “interesting.” It looked to me as
if the visual scope for work from my backyard would have to be my 10-inch
Zhumell (GSO) Dobsonian, Zelda, at least until summer wanes and some
semblance of autumn comes in.
Miss Zelda is a great telescope with a surprisingly
excellent primary mirror. No, she’s not grab ‘n go in any shape form or
fashion, but it’s no problem to leave her outside under a scope cover in our
secure backyard as long as violent thunderstorms are not forecast. The only
question was whether I could still get her safely into the backyard without
damaging her, myself, or both of us.
One mostly clear if hazy afternoon, I found the answer is still
“yes.” To begin, I cautiously removed
Zelda from her rocker box—first time I’d done that in several years, I was
embarrassed to realize. Heavy, but not too heavy; at least not when just
lifting her out and standing her up on her (sorry, girl) rear end. Well, there would
be a problem if somebody decided to push the tube over with a paw, which is why
I locked the felines out of the sunroom to their outrage.
Moving the rockerbox/groundboard to the backyard was simplicity
itself. There’s a nice big handle on the front. Then, I returned to the tube,
lifted it with one hand on the rear cell and one arm around the middle of the
OTA. It’s harder to describe than do but suffice to say that while I wouldn’t
want to waltz Miss Zelda across the dance floor, carrying her ten meters into the yard was no problem, even considering I had to go down three
steps.
The verdict? The tube is heavy. Heavier than I
remembered. Eventually I’ll likely have to use a hand truck to get the scope
into the back 40. But if I must do that, I will do that. The last 30
years, a 10-inch has come to be thought of as a “small” telescope. It’s not.
One is a powerful performer on the deep sky.
Zelda mostly ready to go, I plugged in the battery pack that
powers her cooling fan; she’d been in the air-conditioned house, and, while not
as bad as it had been, the weather wasn’t exactly cool as the afternoon waned. Next?
A little TV with the cats until the long, slow DST hours between now and
astronomical twilight passed…
Nota Bene: The
order of the objects I looked at with Z was the same as in the book, Urban
Astronomer.
M39
It took me a long time to learn to appreciate this
galactic cluster, which lies well away from the Northern Cross asterism, about
nine-and-a-half degrees to the northeast. On a summer’s eve’ as a kid
astronomer, I’d maybe take a quick look at it and move on. All it was was a patch of medium-bright stars, with the more brilliant ones forming a
triangle. It was soon in the rearview mirror as me and my fellow members of the
Backyard Astronomy Society continued our fruitless search for the veil
nebula with our long focal length three and four-inch scopes.
As the years rolled on, and I turned more appropriate instruments
on M39, my opinion of this magnitude 4.6 cluster began to change. What’s “appropriate”?
A scope/eyepiece combo that puts some space around this half-degree size group.
Oh, and aperture doesn’t hurt either. Enough dark space to frame it, and enough
aperture to begin to show off the magnitude 12 and dimmer stars that lurk
inside the triangle of magnitude 6-range suns, and you begin to have something.
While M39 will never be a showpiece, yeah, it is something.
How do you look at it? On this evening, it showed off plenty of stars in Zelda
with a wide field 13mm ocular, but it just wasn’t pretty. I knew the solution: more field, less magnification. Inserting my
35mm Panoptic into Zelda’s focuser rewarded me with the, yes, awful pretty.
All those dim stars higher magnification revealed had disappeared, but just as
in Urban Astronomer, where I switched from a "big" scope to my old Short Tube 80 (mm) refractor, I thought
it was worth it. With plenty of space around it, M39 it looks more distinctive
and just better.
How about the SeeStar, Suzie? As you can see, she’s a
mite field-challenged for this one given the geometry of her chip. Oh, she
shows scads of stars. Everywhere. Yes, the bright triangle stands out. But the
cluster doesn’t have much snap. It doesn’t pop out of the background as
it does with a wide-field visual scope.
M29
Something puzzled me and my BAS buddies back in the day. There’s
only one other Messier object in Cygnus, a rather lackluster galactic
cluster that pales compared to some of the other sights in the Swan. Why? Who
knows, and be that as it may, with M29, it is what it is.
Suze? I devoted a mere 6-minutes exposure to Messier 29, and
that was all it took. Even in that snapshot, many dim background stars are
visible across the frame that weren’t seen in Zelda. The cluster itself looks
much the same; it sure stands out from the background. What helps this
magnitude 6.6 group? That small 10’ size. Dare I say it? It’s almost photogenic.
M71
Despite titling this chapter “Star Nests in Cygnus,” I did
take some detours, including to nearby Sagitta’s M71, which is 5 degrees
south-southwest of its famous neighbor, M27, the Dumbbell Nebula. The only
claim to fame M71 has is that while it is a globular cluster, it doesn’t
look much like one, appearing to be a rich and compressed open cluster like
M11. There was supposedly some debate over its status for a while, but I’m
skeptical about that. One look at M71’s color-magnitude diagram says “globular.”
And that is what it is, a (very) loose Shapley-Sawyer Class XI glob.
So, what’s it like visually? You’d think this magnitude 8.6
object would be as challenging as Lyra’s M56 or Coma’s NGC 5053. Nope, it’s easier
with smaller aperture scopes due to its small, 7.0’ size. It was certainly
visible with a 6-inch telescope on good nights. As I observe in Urban
Astronomer, though, more aperture helps. In the 12mm Ethos in the 10-inch, it’s
an obviously resolved little clump o’ stars.
In pictures, this wee globular is pretty and interesting if
not spectacular. Missy Suzy easily resolved hordes of cluster stars set against
a very rich background. You know what M71 looks like in Suze’s shot? It
looks amazingly like the Wild Duck Cluster. But, no, M71, which I’ve heard
called “The Angelfish Cluster” (?) in recent years, is a globular star cluster,
y’all.
NGC 6910
And that exhausts the Messiers. What’s left galactic
clusters-wise is, yes, NGC clusters. Now, now, don’t take on like
that. Some of ‘em ain’t that bad, like 6910 which those long years ago I
thought was, “A real surprise with the 8-inch f/5! Very nice indeed for a
non-Messier…about 10 – 15 stars visible.” In Zelda with the 150x delivered
with an 8mm Ethos, what was in the field was a scattering of dimmish stars
around an acute triangle of 9 – 10 magnitude ones. As on that long ago night,
there appeared to be around a dozen dimmer stars visible.
NGC 6866
What did I see when I took a gander at 6866 with my old
Meade 12.5-inch way back in the 1990s (it seems odd to say that; lately it
seems like yesterday)? “Beautiful field with the cluster looking like a miniature
M39.” And that’s still accurate; that was also my impression with Zelda: a
vaguely triangular shape of suns (I’ve heard this group called the “Kite
Cluster”). This magnitude 7.6, 6.0’ size
cluster is another NGC open that’s easy to see.
Suzie did a nice job on this one in only 5 minutes. Yes,
there are hordes of background stars, but the cluster is again easy to pick
out. Maybe it even looks a little more like a kite than it does visually, with
two curving arcs of stars that aren’t as noticeable visually forming the sides
of the kite.
NGC 6819
This is yet another example that makes a lie of the old saw,
“All NGC open clusters are the same—boring.”
The somewhat well-known Fox Head Cluster has a combined magnitude of 7.6
and covers a mere 6.0’ of sky. In the book, I pronounced it, “A very
attractive NGC open cluster in the 11-inch Schmidt Cassegrain…looked more oval
than square.” In Miss Z, the impression was, conversely, a diamond shaped
pattern of many tiny stars.
Inexplicably, I didn’t get NGC 6819 on my observing list
and, so, didn’t get a SeeStar image.
NGC 6834
For this one, we leave the “cross” area of Cygnus and head
towards Albireo. Our quarry is a small magnitude 7.8, 4.0’ across group. My
impression in the 10-inch Dobsonian was “small and dim,” and that was also what
my old 11-inch SCT showed in the glorious Day: “Small and dim. In the 11-inch
scope, I see a 5.0’ oval of faint stars…crossed by a prominent line of brighter
stars.
NGC 6830
And yet another good NGC open star cluster glowing softly at
magnitude 7.9 and extending 8.0’. For
this one, I again ventured out of Cygnus to another small nearby constellation,
Vulpecula, The Little Fox, home of the abovementioned Dumbbell. In Urban
Astronomer, I found 6830 to be, “Very distinct from the rich beautiful field
it is set in. Rectangular in shape.” Today? Much the same. A vaguely
rectangular or diamond-shaped pattern of a fair number of magnitude 9-10 stars
and many dimmer ones. Oh, for some inexplicable reason, some call this “The
Poodle Cluster.”
In the Suzie-shot, the cluster is identifiable around a
diamond of brighter suns, but, admittedly, it is beginning to recede into the
background. In the image it’s still easy to pick out but proceeding toward “not
well detached.”
NGC 6823
This magnitude 7.0’, 10.0’ size group is involved with a
large complex of nebulosity which was totally invisible in my urban skies. What
was visible was a nice enough galactic cluster: “A nice medium-sized
open cluster in the 8-inch f/5.” I also observed that the cluster looked
like a miniature Scorpius. I didn’t see that on this latter-day night with a
10-inch. What I saw was a rather shapeless sprinkling of magnitude 10 and
dimmer stars.
That is what I saw with the SeeStar as well. I didn’t expose
for long, and didn’t use a filter, so any nebulosity that might be there wasn’t
visible. I do note some star chains that give 6823 a vaguely flower-like shape.
Albireo
I ended each chapter of Urban Astronomer with a double star.
For this chapter, Albireo was obviously it. Now, the lustrous blue and gold “Cub
Scout Double” is not an object for a 50mm f/5 scope, but Suze still did a fair
job, showing a pair of strongly colored stars.
And that was that. Oh, on my imaging night, I did send Suzie to M27 to see what she could do, and she did a very fine job for a wee telescope. All that remained was to throw a cover over Zelda (I didn’t feel like—ahem—wrestling with the girl at the tail end of a long and hot evening). She’d be fine in our secure backyard, and getting her back to the Sunroom would be a far less daunting task in the morn’.
So…I saw some cool sights and found I could still (fairly)
easily set up the 10-inch. This night
was a win, then, especially since I’d had a good time, and it had brought back
some nice memories of my Urban Astronomer runs.
Next up? Another observing article, but we’ll give Urban
Astronomer a rest in favor of something (sort of) new.
Tuesday, July 30, 2024
Issue 606: Space Summer Comes Again + Combing the Tresses of Berenice with Charity and Suzie
Chalk up another one, muchachos. Another orbit of our friendly G2V star by your aged Uncle. That makes 71. A few years ago, I wouldn’t have told you that. Like many of my fellow Boomers, I’ve wrestled with old age—we just didn’t believe it could happen to us. But I think I’ve finally come to terms with it, at least to the extent of being able to say, “It is what it is.” Of course, I didn’t let any philosophical mumbo-jumbo interfere with another grand birthday in the old style.
As with many of Unk’s birthdays, this one combined “space”
(as in building a new model Launch Umbilical Tower to go with my recent Airfix
Saturn V build), Mexican food, ham radio, and a sizable portion of amateur
astronomy. Actually, the amateur astronomy got done the evenings prior to and immediately
following the big day, since I knew I’d likely be tuckered out from activating
a park for Parks on the Air and too full of Tex-Mex chow and
margaritas to even think about taking a telescope into the backyard…
Indeed, I was. We had a great time at Park US-1042, Gulf
Shores State Park, but oh-was-it-hot. We made 40 CW QSOs with my new Yaesu
FT-891 in just over an hour, and that was enough. It was crazy hot, even
under a picnic pavilion and even with the constant sea-breezes blowing. Back
home, I dumped the sand out of my Crocs, spiffed up a little, and made tracks
for Unk’s longtime fave Mexican place, El Giro’s. Many margaritas cooled
me off, and I was soon ready to tuck into my unwavering birthday fare, the famous
#13. A little TV with the felines thereafter,
and it would be night-night time. I’d hit the backyard the next eve.
If you are a long-time reader of the Little Ol’ AstroBlog
from Chaos Manor South, you know five years ago, it had almost run up on the
rocks. In 2019, there was but one new post—and not until the end of
December of that year! An accident the Rodster suffered at the beginning of ‘19,
and the lingering effects of a rather un-looked for early retirement almost
spelled curtains for the News from Possum Swamp.
I got back in the saddle as 2020 came in—I found I still
wanted to bring the AstroBlog to you—and we are now on the reasonable schedule
of one issue per month. At my age and with my physical infirmities, I don’t
travel as much as I once did. I did make it back to one star party last year and hope to do so again this fall. But… No longer traveling from star party to star
party like a demented Johnny Appleseed means I don’t have as much to tell you
about. It sure ain’t like 2016, the year I did so many events a friend of mine started
calling the annum “Uncle Rod’s Farewell Tour.”
Not being hither and yon much and having cut back on my
astro-gear addiction means the emphasis now is on observing. In part,
that is choice. I just don’t need (and don’t want to spend on) more and more
astro-goodies. In part that is necessity. Post-pandemic, there ain’t as much
astrostuff to spend on. Mostly, though, as the autumn of your Old Uncle’s time
on this world deepens to winter, observing is more important to me than buying.
And most of my observing is now right back where it began all those decades ago,
in the backyard…
And so, we’ve come to summer in Chaos Manor South’s
backyard. This is a better time for me to view the spring deep sky objects than earlier on. They are across the Meridian, into the west,
and out of the trees and the most egregious part of the Possum Swamp light
dome. Oh, there are more bugs than there were, and it’s hotter and muggier, but
at least Suzie the SeeStar, and my friendly old (don’t tell her I called her
that) ETX, Charity Hope Valentine, and I, can get a better good look at the
great galaxies of Spring.
The Number 13! |
Nota Bene: The
imaging was done over the course several evenings, and the visual work on a
couple of separate nights…
Do you have to be crazy to do deep sky astronomy in Possum
Swamp at the height of a Gulf Coast summer? No, but it helps
<badda-bing!>. Me and the girls, Charity and Suzie, did our best, but
every evening was plagued by haze and often by drifting clouds. There were nights
when it didn’t get much under 90F till near midnight. Suzie’s exposure times were limited, 30
minutes being about as long as she could often go. Sometimes, Charity and I would cool our heels for quite a spell while waiting for the sky to improve.
M3
Yeah, yeah, I know, Skeeter. Messier 3 ain’t in Coma but in nearby
Canes Venatici. So what? On any night it's above the horizon, I am gonna take a
look at the ruler of the spring globs (not that it has much competition). Honestly, I didn’t expect much. The sky was
literally milk. There wasn’t a Moon in the sky, however, so Charity and
I remained hopeful and went that-a-way.
One long ago Urban Astronomer observing run, I turned my
scope to Messier 3 from the heavily light polluted backyard of the old Chaos
Manor South. That scope happened to be my humongous C11, and I was amply
rewarded: “MAN is M3 beautiful! 127x with the C11 reveals many tiny stars
from the outer periphery of the cluster and extending right across its core.”
Beautiful M3... |
Susie? As you can see, she delivered a credible
M3, even with just 21 minutes of exposure. Despite the icky skies, Messier 3
shined on—yeah—just like some crazy diamond. Not only that, one of my favorite
little “field” galaxies, NGC 5263, shows off its minute disk in the shot. The
image, by the way, is nearly unprocessed. It’s just the .jpg that Suze sent to
my phone after she stacked it. I adjusted levels a bit, but that was it.
M64
Hokay, over to tonight’s stomping ground, Coma Berenices. I began where Urban Astronomer begins, with one of the constellation’s
showpieces, M64, the Blackeye galaxy.
When Miss Charity stopped her weasels-with-tuberculosis slewing noise
and I put my eye to the eyepiece, there the Blackeye was. Well, the galaxy,
anyway. Given the sky and the fact M64 is now getting down in the west, I
had to guess at the black eye, the dark spot near the M64's nucleus. I
thought I could detect it with the 15mm Expanse eyepiece, but that verged on
wishful thinking.
Which was really not much different from what I’d seen with
my 6-inch Newtonian and younger eyes those years ago at Chaos Manor South: “I
convinced myself I saw evidence of the black eye, but, in truth, I’m not sure
if I saw it or not. It’s incredibly subtle in this aperture in the light
pollution…” Wanna make the dark
feature pop out in the suburbs? 10-inches of telescope and high power on a
night of steady seeing is what is needed.
It should be no surprise by now that The Suzie laughed at
the minor challenge of the Blackeye. Not only is the feature starkly visible in
her images, enlarging the picture and doing some processing revealed surprising
detail. Other than cropping, the pic here is, again, purty much as it
came out of the telescope.
NGC 4565
There are some deep sky objects that never look bad.
Almost any telescope and any sky will give you something of them. That said, NGC
4565, the vaunted Flying Saucer Galaxy is a galaxy, and no other variety
of deep sky object is more damaged by light pollution. Nevertheless, one spring
eve I had a go at the ‘Saucer with my C11 downtown…
With direct vision at 127x, NGC 4565 first appears as a
round nebulous blob about 1’ or less in diameter with a tiny, bright star-like
nucleus. A little averted vision quickly
reveals the edge-on disk that forms the saucer. I’m confident I’m seeing at
least 5’ of disk on either side of the core.”
Blackeye lookin' good! |
I was afraid Charity’s answer to “Have you see the saucers?”
would be NO. My best girl surprised me though, turning up 4565 without fuss in
the 26mm Super Plössl. That said, on this eve we didn’t get farther than the “round,
nebulous blob” stage, and I’m not convinced I saw a trace of the nucleus, either.
By the time Suze set her sights on the Saucer, it was riding
high, and I didn’t think she’d have much trouble with it. I did know that the
higher an object, the more apparent the field rotation, but that isjust the way it is with an alt-azimuth mount. Anyhow, Suzie’s shot shows off the nucleus,
the bulge of the The-Day-The-Earth-Stood-Still flying saucer, and the
equatorial dust lane. Zooming in even
hints at irregularity in the dust-lane. NGC 4562 is easy to see. All that in a mere
25 minute of exposure.
M53
M53 is OK, it really is. But it definitely plays
second fiddle to M3. Its main problem is it’s a little small. Resolution
is not at all difficult, though, as I found with my urban 6-inch: “Round with a grainy, diffuse core. As I
continue to stare…I’m surprised to see stars popping out at the edges.”
That must have been a way above average night. On the
night me and Charity were given, the 5-inch MCT required 200x and some averted
imagination to pull some stars out of the soup. They were impossible to
hold steady and winked in and out like far-distant fireworks.
Charity’s rendition of M53 is pretty pleasing. 22 minutes
shows a fine spray of stars and even shows color in them. But you know
what? In some ways I prefer her 4-minute exposure. Almost as many stars, and a
more even background.
NGC 5053
Lurking near M53 is its little-buddy glob, NGC 5053. It really is Gilligan to the Skipper of M53.
It is loose, very loose, looking much more like an open cluster than a globular
(a quick glance at its color-magnitude diagram, however, shows it to be a glob).
It is not easy for any telescope in the city—I wasn’t always successful with it
even with my 12-inch, Old Betsy.
I think my NexStar 11 GPS did very well to show a few of its
stars and the vague general haze that forms the flattened body of the cluster.
But it wasn’t much, no not much at all. In the ETX 125PE? Was it there
or was it not there at all? I had a tough time deciding. Switching eyepieces, doing lots of looking, and using every visual trick in the
book—averted vision, jiggle the scope, etc.—made me decide I’d seen some hint
of this toughie.
What’s tough for my aged eyes isn’t at all difficult for young lady Suzie. Her 17 minutes of exposure gave The Blah-blah-blah Cluster (my nickname for it) form and substance. Lots of teeny stars. It made me wonder if a darker sky and a longer exposure could have made it look a little like a glob, as shots from good skies do.
And so, the hour grew late—as your aged Uncle reckons such
things now—the dew began to fall ever more heavily, and it was time to wrap up
my birthday evening backyard deep sky tour.
Soon, Charity was safely in her case, and I was again ensconced on the
couch with the felines watching Project Mercury videos on YouTube to the tune
of cold 807s for me and mucho catnip for them.
Postscript… RIP Charity?
The “Tresses” chapter in The Urban Astronomer’s Guide
goes on to seven more objects beyond NGC 5053. Why aren’t they here? Because
Charity and I did not get to observe them. Just as we finished with NGC
5053, disaster struck. I hit the mode key to select the next DSO…and
nothing happened. I mashed it again…and hieroglyphics appeared briefly on
the Autostar display before it went blank. I cycled the power, and it was
clear the Autostar was booting, just no display.
Next morning, I opened up the HC cleaned the ribbon cable
connection with Deoxit, reseated it, etc. No joy. It appears the display is
gone. I am examining my options. I could pay a lot of money for a used Autostar
on eBay that might last a while or might not. Buying a new
Autostar/Audiostar is out of the question.
As you may have heard, Meade has gone out of business
along with Orion. There’ve been no official announcements, but it’s clear
these companies, at least under their current owner, are GONE PECANS. Even if
they weren’t gone, the Autostar, like a lot of other Meade items, has
been unavailable for quite some time. Sure, I could defork Charity’s OTA and
put her on another mount… but it just wouldn’t be the same.
Miss Charity Hope Valentine 2004 - 2024. |
Friday, June 28, 2024
Issue 605: What Do I Use Now?
Muchachos, I make no secret of the fact I miss the go-go days of Baby Boomer astronomy. Which was at its height from the 1980s through the oughts or a little past that, maybe almost to the time of the plague. Like many of you then, I was almost as interested and obsessed about THE GEAR as I was about actually using it on the sky.
There were times in the decades I lived downtown at the
original and storied Chaos Manor South that collecting and dreaming about new Astrostuff
was almost my sole focus in the hobby. It was often all I could do
night-by-night. I was lucky to get out to a dark site once a month, and what I
could see from my oak-enshrouded backyard was limited to say the least.
How things have changed. It seems I am back to observing
with telescopes rather than collecting them. And that is observing in a
relaxed fashion. When you have a decent—if not perfect—suburban backyard as I
do at the new Chaos Manor South, you don’t feel as pressured to go pedal-to-the
metal every time you are out under the night sky.
But that’s not the only reason. Post pandemic, it’s no
secret there’s less of that astrostuff to buy (Taken a stroll
through the astromag ad pages lately?) and what there is is more expensive and
often backordered. There have been some interesting advances over the last few
years, nevertheless, like the rise of the smartscope and black boxes like ZWO’s
ASIAIR, both of which make astro-imaging into a new ballgame. But we no longer
wait breathlessly for the next ginormous Meade technicolor catalog
extravaganza. That sort of amateur astronomy appears to be in the rearview
mirror.
There’s also the ME factor. As in, I am a different me
than I was when I retired in 2013. When we left ol’ Chaos Manor South, all, it
seemed, would go on as it had the past two decades. I’d just transfer the contents
of the Massive Equipment Vault to the new manse. Then, shockingly, your Old
Uncle began to realize he was tired. Tired of ALL THE STUFF. Now that I
could use telescopes, it seemed I was more interested in doing that than
worrying about what, if anything, might come next. And, so, I began to thin
the telescope herd…
Tanya the Rescue Scope |
That’s a good question, Skeeter. I could go on about the
lovely APOs I still have, and the beautiful Losmandy mount, yadda, yadda,
yadda. That would be whistling past the graveyard, though. The only time any of
that gets pulled out is when I need it for a Sky & Telescope
assignment. I don’t choose to use it because I want to use it.
What do I use first and foremost? A pair of 15x70 binoculars I bought from the late (that is hard to believe) Bill Burgess twenty-one years ago. If there’s a more versatile pair of glasses than
15x70s (or so), I don’t know what it is. They offer good aperture, but also
enough magnification to keep compromised suburban skies on the dark side. Also,
they are still handholdable—if a slight pain for extended use. I have numerous
pairs of binoculars, from exquisite 35mms all the way up to 100mm giants. None
get used other than the 15x70s. The Burgess binoculars are what I will and
do use.
When I want or need to use a telescope? If I’m lazy
and/or need wide fields, the scope I grab ‘n go with is one I would have
laughed at 20 years ago. I am talking about Tanya, the Rescue Telescope. She is a 4.5-inch Celestron Newtonian with a
focal ratio of f/5.2 and a spherical mirror. She is perched on an alt-az fork
on a spindly extruded aluminum tripod, the kind I used to preach against those
decades ago. Why would your Old Uncle use a Department Store telescope? Why
would I allow one in my presence?
That is simple. When I want to see something, whether a
planet, or a deep sky object, or the latest comet, or whatever I use Tanya
because she works. The way I want a scope to work. She sits in my radio
shack/workshop of the telescopes, the Batcave, near the door and is ready to go
at a moment’s notice. Oh, she takes a little while to acclimate, but by the
time I’ve rounded-up a box of 1.25-inch eyepieces she is ready to run. When I
am done, or if the sky clouds over, or hour grows late (that is now 10pm) I can
pick her up in one hand, tripod and all, and waltz her back inside.
“But Unk, ain’t the images pitiful?” No, they ain’t.
Yes, there is a limit to the resolution of a 4.5-inch spherical mirror. At
f/5.2 one approaches ½ wave of error. But guess what, campers? At 100x and
lower her images are just fine. The Moon is beautiful and sharp, I can see the
Great Red Spot, and Saturn is the detailed wonder he always has been. She will
even go beyond, a little beyond, 100x without complaint. More than that and the
trouble is more with her little mount than her mirror.
Miss Valentine |
Of course, there are times when I want more. Specifically, a
goto telescope so I don’t have to spend my night squinting up at the hazy
suburban sky with a red dot finder when I am hunting subtler prey (which for me now is DSOs like M82, not some dadgum PGC). And one with a little more focal length to make
achieving higher magnification easier. As with the Burgess binocs, more
magnification makes the field darker and improves contrast. What spells relief?
5-inches at f/15 on a goto mount. That of course is my old girlfriend, the one
you’ve so often read about in these pages, Miss Charity Hope Valentine, an ETX-125PE.
I used to make fun of Charity’s sometimes varying goto
accuracy. Now? I don’t care if she puts something on the edge of the field
instead of smack in the middle (which she often does anyway). I am no longer obsessed by such things. Her
optics are sharp, dead sharp, and she has enough aperture to make most of the
deep sky objects I visit, the bright and prominent ones, “acceptable.” Which is
enough for me now, it seems. At any rate, as with the binoculars and Tanya,
when I want more telescope, Charity is what I will use.
Are “telescope years” like dog years or more like human years? I ain’t sure. One thing I am sure of is that Charity is almost 20 years old now. There is the chance she will let out the Magic Smoke some night. I’ve taken care of her and done any repairs she’s needed. But it could happen. If it did, her replacement would be a six-inch f/5 SkyWatcher Newtonian on a goto mount. The optics are good, the goto is accurate, and it is controlled from a smartphone, something I find handy in my old age as I get lazier and lazier. Right now, the SkyWatcher gets out under the stars when I need goto, but a little more field than what the f/15 Miss Valentine can offer.
How about eyepieces? Oh, I haven't got rid of any of them. No need to; they don't take up much room and most do get into a focuser occasionally. The same old crew is still here, ranging from time-honored Vixen Plössls to high-toned Televue Ethoses. If I needed more, I wouldn't hesitate to still buy oculars, but I seem to have what I need. Since the telescopes I use are 1.25-inch only, naturally the 2-inchers don't get pulled out often. Luckily, the Ethoses and Explore Scientific eyepieces I own are all 1.25-inch capable. "Come on, Unk. Which ones do ya use?" OK, I'll fess up. That's most often the 1.25-inchers in the old Orion eyepiece box. Those Vixen Plössls, some Expanse Wide Fields, and that wonderful König I bought at a long-ago star party.
Dang! Almost back where I started! |
Staying on the topic of what I will use, but switching gears
a mite to astro-software, there have been changes aplenty there as well,
muchachos. Yes, sometimes I just grab the Sky & Telescope Jumbo
Pocket Sky Atlas and use that to plot my journey. But I find I see more
if I generate an observing list with software. And my aging eyes do find it easier
to decipher a chart on a smartphone or laptop screen than on dew-laden paper.
So, yeah, I still use an observing planner, if not the sophisticated sort I
once did.
Back in the glorious Day, when I was decidedly more
ambitious than I am now, I’d use huge and powerful planning programs like SkyTools
or Deep Sky Planner to generate my object lists. Those are two wonderful
pieces of software and I recommend them highly if you are more hardcore than
latter-day Unk. Now? The lists I can
generate with the SkySafari app on my iPhone are more than good enough. Click
“observe,” create a new list, and start populating it with objects, all with a
few touches of the iPhone screen. No, it ain’t got the power of DSP or SkyTools,
but—soundin’ like that proverbial broken record—it is what I will to use and is
mostly all I do use.
I don’t just use SkySafari for list-making, either. I
use it for almost everything astronomical ‘round here. As y’all may
know, I’ve at least tried just about every piece of astronomy software from Sky Travel (Commodore
64) onward that has come down the ol’ pike. All the biggies. And I’ve loved
many of them and found many of them indispensable for our pursuit. Now, though,
SkySafari does what I need, does it well, and is beautiful.
I do love me some SkySafari! |
When I finally got tired of dumb old Winders and got myself
a MacBook Air M2, I thought, “Well, dang, now I can get the Mac
version of SkySafari!” Alas, the Mac page at the maker’s, Simulation
Curriculum’s, site was gone. The program was still apparently available
in the app store but had not been updated in years. What the—? I temporarily gave up the idea of SkySafari
on a laptop and loaded up the Mac flavor of Stellarium.
Then, recently, I decided to do some research about SkySafari
on the Mac. The gist of it? Seemed as how the old Mac SkySafari was dead.
As dead as the Intel Macintoshes. But that didn’t mean I couldn’t
have SkySafari for my Mac, it ‘peared. Many iOS apps now run jus’ fine
on the new Macs, the Silicon Macs (machines with an Apple M1 processor
or better). Was it possible I could run SkySafari Pro on my Apple
Computer, my M2? ‘Deed it was.
For less than 20 bucks I could download SkySafari Pro
from the Mac app store. Which I did. After it installed? SHAZAM! There
was my favorite astroware on a big(ger) screen and looking pretty—awful
pretty! I haven’t had a lot of time to play with it yet but suffice it to say
it seems to work great on the Mac, looks beautiful, and, not surprisingly,
seems to have every feature of the iPhone app (which is what it really is,
after all).
Anyhoo, there you have it. That short list is the astronomy
tools I use, binoculars, a couple of smallish telescopes, my iPhone, and a
laptop once in a while. But I’m keeping on trucking, onward and upward as they
say, whoever “they” are.
And what’s onward from here? This installment was supposed
to cover my reobservation of the objects in Coma from my book, The Urban Astronomer’s Guide. The “Tresses of
Berenice” chapter, that is. Urania had other ideas, keeping her sky
veiled down here in the Swamp night after night. Coma is sinking now, and I
hope I get a shot at it before the Gulf storms begin spinning up. Yay or nay, though,
I’ll be back here next month with more of my down-home astro-foolishness...
Excelsior.
Wednesday, May 29, 2024
Issue 604: Unk’s Yearly M13, The Quest for Simple but Good
Suzie's M13 |
“After what, Unk? Wut you talkin’ ‘bout now? Too much
Yell last night? Did you bump your head gettin’ outa bed? What?” Simple,
Skeeter: my yearly quest to image that greatest of all Northern Hemisphere globular star clusters, Messier 13. That is a
long-running astronomy ritual with your old Uncle. Like my annual Christmas Eve
observation of M42. Weather ‘n stuff conspired to make me miss the Big Glob
last annum, and I wasn’t gonna let that happen again this year; I’d get started
as soon as possible, like RIGHT AWAY.
The only question was “How would I get M13?” The last decade, the answer has been “As
easily as possible.” Yeah, some years I’d drag out big mount, SCT, computer,
and CCD and go whole hog, but those years became fewer as I hit my mid-60s.
Mucho fewer. And soon enough, the days of setting up my SBIG CCD on a C11 were
gone forever. As the years roll on, and the gear seems to get heavier and the spring
and summer nights ever hotter, I've looked for ways to corral ol’ Herc (or whatever) without busting a
gut or being a sweat-drenched wreck at the end of the run.
The first Quick and Dirty approach I took to M13 was video,
deep sky video. As y’all know, during the years of The Herschel Project, I was all about video. So, it seemed a natural to go
after M13 that-a-way. No guiding. I could even use an alt-azimuth mounted
scope. The original Stellacam (analog black and white
video and <10-second exposures) did a credible job.
The Mallincam Xtreme that followed it was better still with
less noise and longer exposures. But while I didn’t have to worry about guide
scopes and polar alignments, that was still a load of gear: scope, mount, camera, cables, monitor,
digital video recorder, etc. There was also no denying the results didn’t look
that great. Oh, the videos looked pretty good, and the still frames from them
were acceptable. But attractive? Not really. I looked for that much wished-for and sought-after
Better Way.
At about this time, quite a few refugees from the analog deep
sky video scene began experimenting with a similar imaging mode. This was
short-exposure imaging with digital cameras. CCD cams, DSLRs, you name it. The
idea was to take a bunch of short—as in 10 - 15 seconds or so—exposures and
stack them together in the usual way. I was rather skeptical of the idea,
thinking that at a minimum 2 – 3-minute subs were required for a decent image.
However, I had a camera suitable for experimentation—my ZWO ASI
120mc color planetary camera. While I could have used an alt-azimuth scope for
my testing, I chose to put the OTA on an equatorial. I figured that would
eliminate noise and other trouble from field rotation and would give the
short-sub idea its best chance at success.
And away we went. The C8-on-a-GEM setup was a slight pain,
but not too bad. Soon my old Ultima 8 OTA, Celeste, was riding on the CG5 with
the li’l ZWO cam on the rear cell. Other than that, I had a laptop set up on
the deck running the amazingly versatile FireCapture software, which is just as much at home saving single
exposure frames of a deep sky object as it is planetary .avi files.
M13? Easy as fallin’ off a log. As you can see in the image
here, M13 with the 120mc is considerably better than the inset longer exposure (1-minute subs) of my stacked Meade DSI image from many a Moon ago. I was pleased.
But I put the ZWO away and never came back to it for the deep sky. Instead, I
took to doing my yearly M13 with an 80mm APO and a DSLR. That was easy to do,
but f/6 80mm plus DSLR frame size produced a rather miniscule M13. In
retrospect, I could have gotten better images with my ZWO and the little refractor.
That has been the story the last several years. Me using a small, short refractor and a
DSLR to do the Great One. Was I satisfied with the images? No. As
above, M13 was just too small, and the 80 APO and DSLR were not well-suited for
the suburban environment. That’s where my Yearly M13 came to rest for a while, but
that was then, ladies and gentlemen. This is now.
What is different now when it comes to taking decent
deep sky images easy-peasy? Do I even have to tell you? It is the coming of the
smart telescope. I’ve talked about my little
ZWO scope frequently here—I am very fond of her. She's not perfect. Some of the
images are better than others, I’ve observed, and it’s not always clear why.
Oh, no doubt you could achieve more consistency as far as perfect stars
in every shot by downloading individual sub-frames and stacking ‘em yourself. I
choose not to do that because I am rather lazy these days and find the stacked
.jpgs Suzie delivers to my phone almost always more than acceptable.
When I thought it was dark enough to begin, I trotted out,
turned Suze on, connected to her with the iPhone, and used the manual altitude
slewing buttons (a recent addition to the app) to raise the girl’s little OTA out
of parked position. The reason for that was so I could install a dew shield I’d
purchased. Not because of dew, though. The scope’s built-in dew heater has always
kept that at bay, but I wanted to block some of the ambient light that inevitably intrudes
into a suburban backyard. I thought images would look better with minimal
processing without the gradients the neighbors’ yard lights inevitably cause.
Which dew shield? Where do you get such a thing for
the SeeStar? Take a stroll through the eBay. You’ll find a surprising
number of sellers offering dew shields and other plastic 3D-printed SeeStar
accessories. I got mine from an outfit called “West Coast Astro.” On the
plus side, it is reasonably attractive and works fine. On the minus side? I couldn’t
use it the first night after I received it; it wouldn’t fit the SeeStar. I had
to do some sanding of the barrel. Not a lot, just a little and then it was
fine. On the plus side again? The seller included a bag of Haribo gummies in
the box—just like Adrian of Adrian’s Digital Basement often receives in
his Mail Call packages… so I was placated.
Me turning on the Suze, connecting to her with iPhone, and
installing the dew shield was the extent of my night under the stars. How do I
feel about that? I’m not sure. There is certainly something to be said
about a calm and peaceful night under the shimmering stars of spring. Instead,
I spent the balance of the evening on the couch in the den with Tommy, Chaos
Manor South’s resident black cat, watching the aforementioned Adrian’s Digital Basement
to the accompaniment of cold 807s (me) and ‘nip (Tom). It was relaxing, yeah, but decidedly lacking that “romance of an evening under the
stars.”
On the other hand… An
imaging run done the conventional way is usually spent staring at a laptop
screen rather than the stars. What I shoulda done, I guess, was grab the
Burgess 16x70 binoculars and do a little bino tour while Suzie did her thing.
Next time, perhaps. And I will admit that even purely visual observing ain’t always
a picnic. Heat. Bugs. More heat. Dew. Sweat. And, when I was a young’un, the
sneaking suspicion THE VISITORS might pounce on
me as I stared into my Ramsden. In other words, some, not all, but some,
spring/summer visual observing runs are better to relive in fond memory than to
experience.
Postscript:
This past week I got Suzie out for a longer go at the Bigun.
15 minutes does produce decent images with the SeeStar but doubling that to 30
minutes makes the shots look a little smoother and more finished. Half an hour is
what I aim for when I am granted clear skies for that long. When M13 was done,
I shot M92, too, which also looked right nice.
Before shutting down, I devoted a couple of minutes to The
Turtle, NGC 6210. As I’d feared, it was pretty small in a 50mm f/5, so I cut
things short and shut ‘er down. In retrospect, I should have given Suzie more
time on the nebula. It’s possible that in a longer exposure, I could have
picked up a trace of the two ansae, the nebulous extensions on either side of
the disk. I didn’t, so all I got was a little green ball. Next time, maybe.
And that, muchachos, is one of the things that has kept me in this business nearly 60 years down the line. There is always that Next Night to look forward to...