Uncle Rod's Astro Blog

Here we are, muchachos, we have walked through that door into summer. What does that mean for your aged correspondent at Chaos Manor South? Rain, rain, and more rain. Thunderstorms. The possibility of hurricanes in the Gulf (though with an El Niño coming, that may not be as likely this year). In other words, just about no observing. Astronomy weather apps like Scope Nights are predicting “not so hot” or “downright terrible” night after night.

So, we’ll hit a rest stop on the Messier Road this month. I felt like it was time for a break, anyway. Much as I love those deep sky objects, the same thing every month, even though I try not to make the Messier Project articles rote recitations, gets old. I’m not going to be able to make any new observations or images for a while, anyhow, it appears.

The genesis of this article came when I was hunting for something (who knows what?) in the copious files here at Chaos Manor South. I came across an old issue of Sky and Telescope, one of the first I appeared in (I had been writing for S&T’s sister magazine, Night Sky). For want of much else to do on a warm and muggy Possum Swamp afternoon, I sat down with the magazine and began idly paging through the fat December 2004 issue.

What was my impression? “LOOK AT ALL THE ADS!” While The Internet was an ever greater tool for astronomy dealers in 2004, most still believed in print advertising. Then I noticed something else. How many of the manufacturers and dealers who appeared in the issue are gone. Sure, astro companies come and go and always have. Onetime giants (in a small amateur astronomy way) like Unitron and Cave and Criterion came and went and left not a rack behind.

Despite that, it’s become apparent to me that some kind of an amateur astronomy golden age (of equipment, at least), one that stretched from the 1980s to the first decade of this strange new century, has passed. These are some of the outfits that inhabited that golden age. Some I loved and bought from, some I didn’t, but all were in their way unforgettable...

Questar

The little company with that memorable address, New Hope Pennsylvania, was, like many telescope manufacturers, the product of one man’s, Lawrence Braymer’s, dreams. His dream was to make Gregory-type Maksutovs as well as they could be made. So it was that the Questars came into the world. There was a 7-inch and even a 12-inch (very occasionally), but the 3.5-inch was always the most popular, if for no other reason than that while it was expensive, the larger apertures were insanely so.

How was/are the 3.5’s optics—which were never made by Questar? Usually, exquisite. Cave made the mirrors and correctors in the early years, but for most of Questar’s existence they were done and done well by J.R. Cumberland. It wasn’t all gravy, though. The telescope’s relatively simple design didn’t age well—for some. The fork limits access to the southern celestial hemisphere. Also, well into the age of goto and computers, there weren’t really any electronics in the Questars, only RA clock drives, which meant you had to polar align the Q3.5 for astronomical use. There wasn't even a declination drive (later there were upgrades available, including digital setting circles and dec motors).

What happened to Questar (who recently ceased operations and let longtime staff go with no notice)? Various and sundry things. The price was always a problem. Both in that it was high, and that there is a practical limit to what you can charge for a 3.5 inch telescope. Questar passed through several hands (Braymer died in 1965) and went into bankruptcy once, but kept on trucking, if in reduced prominence compared to the golden years of the 50s - 70s. Also, while for many the 3.5 was the ultimate classic, for some it just looked old. The final nail? Cumberland closed in 2024, and for the last two years Questar has focused on servicing existing instruments.

Yes, the optics in the faux Questar ETX 90 weren't bad, but they were not in the same league as those in a real Questar. Worse, Meade’s build-quality was light years—parsecs—behind that of Questar. The company will be remembered as the people who made a little telescope loved by those who owned it and lusted after by those who didn’t. If you want more information on the big Q, get yourself a free copy of my Used CAT Guide.

Meade

The whole sad story is known to most of y’all—all-y’all, I suspect. However, if you’d like to read the story of the  demise of the (onetime) biggest telescope company in the world, read this AstroBlog entry. I still cannot believe Meade is gone. It still seems impossible. I did have a love-hate relationship with the company; I don’t believe any Meade scope I bought was perfect, and some were quite literally projects, but I loved them all. RIP Meade, 1972 – 2024.

Coronado

David Lunt’s Coronado Telescopes brought H-alpha solar observing to the masses. Well, masses of amateur astronomers (and quite a few radio amateurs), anyway. His breakthrough was the PST, the Personal Solar Telescope, which initially sold for $500. Its images were not competitive with H-alpha rigs costing thousands of dollars, but they were still very good indeed.

So, what happened? Meade is what happened. In 2004, Lunt sold his company to Meade to (in part) give Coronado the resources to keep up with the demand for their solar scopes. All seemed rosy for a while, Coronado remaining in its Arizona location. Then, following Lunt’s death in 2005, the changes began. In 2006, Meade released the following, which coincided with the beginning of financial problems that would lead to its slow decline:

"The Company also reported the planned closure and consolidation of its Coronado(R) Instruments manufacturing and distribution facility in Tucson, Arizona, which will result in an additional estimated decrease of $800,000 in annualized operating costs. This consolidation will eliminate 16 employees by August 31, 2006. All Coronado operations are being consolidated into the Company's Irvine facility, with no associated increase in SG&A expense expected for that facility. "

Nevertheless, the Coronado “division” at Meade continued to produce decent telescopes—if ones with more QA problems than were normal with the original Coronados, I have been told. The end came when Meade fell. What will I remember them for? One of the first looks I had through a hydrogen alpha instrument. 

Orion

By “Orion,” I mean the U.S. Orion, “Telescope and Binocular Center,” who at the end was the owner of Meade (!). When the company began, it made the items it sold. In fact, Tim Gieseler founded the company in 1975 specifically to market his drive correctors. From there, he went on to be a dealer of a wide array of gear, including Meade, Celestron, TeleVue, and Vixen. As the years rolled on, however, and especially after Gieseler sold Orion, they began to rely on imported products. Specifically, products made by Chinese optical giant Synta.

Why did Orion fail? As far as I know, no insider has yet come forth with details, but it’s not hard to figure out. Orion’s sales had been declining for years, including during the pandemic when other astro-sellers did very well. Why? Part of it was the increasing emphasis on Synta to the exclusion of much else. With the coming of SkyWatcher (Synta) to the USA, people found they could buy, for example, a Synta EQ-6 mount from them for less money than they could from Orion.

At the end, there was not much reason to buy from Orion. Their legendary customer service had evaporated. What will I miss? Those wonderful old catalogs that seemed to come every week. More about the fall or Orion is at the link above. Anyhow, they went down at the same time as what was left of Meade, 2024.

University Optics

Most astro-companies make and/or sell a wide variety of astronomy gear. So it was with University Optics. This Ann-Arbor, Michigan firm sold everything from mirror grinding kits to eyepieces and everything in-between. But it was eyepieces that they were famous for. Relatively inexpensive oculars that were high in quality. Their Orthoscopics and Königs were particularly well-regarded and University’s eyepieces remained popular even with the advent of wide and ultra-wide oculars.

What took them down? Time. Jan W. Seyfried started the company in 1960 and kept it going till his death in 2014. University Optics continued in business for three more years before closing. I haven’t thought about them in a while, but I believe in later years Sayfried's son was helping him with the business, carried it on after his father passed, and then—for whatever reason—decided it was time to pull the plug. What do I miss? Those eyepieces, of course.

Parks Optical

Throw that (the scope I mean, of course) into the back seat of your Corolla!

Parks was always a bit of a puzzle. Why did they carry on selling heavy and expensive Newtonian telescopes year after year when few wanted them anymore? Parks was founded in 1952 by Dr. Maurice Sweiss. He was not interested in selling inexpensive telescopes like Criterion and Edmund, aiming to be a cut above the hoi polloi. How were Parks Newts? I don’t know. I have never encountered one—not one. I do have one of the their 6-inch f/8 primaries, which is pretty good, though not perfect.

Why did they fail? They didn’t so much fail as slowly wither away. Parks still focused on Newtonians and Cassegrains through the 1990s, a time when most amateurs wanted SCTs and Dobsonians. Also, there were some missteps. In the early 90s, they thought they had a breakthrough innovation, telescopes that could be switched between being slow classical Cassegrains and fast Newtonians, the Parks H.I.T. telescopes, which would be available in 10, 12.5, and 16-inch apertures.

People who hadn’t paid attention to Parks in years took notice and there was much discussion about the H.I.T. on the Fidonet astronomy board. Unfortunately, optical quality was reputed to be poor. I had a friend who was planning to buy the 10-inch, thinking it would be perfect for him (despite my warnings about what it would be like hauling that huge mount to the club dark site). Luckily for him, Parks struggled to manufacture the telescopes, couldn’t quote him a delivery date, and he bought a Meade LX-200 SCT instead. By the turn of the century, the company was even less active, relying on their eyeglass/optometry sideline. What do I remember Parks for? Running ads for huge Newtonians year after year—an interesting throwback, at least.

Scope City

Scope City was the dealer arm of Parks, and was based in Simi Valley, California like Parks, but had retail stores in Las Vegas and San Francisco as well.  I bought from them on occasion when they had something I couldn’t find at Pocono Mountain or Astronomics, my goto dealers. Scope City was OK. Their prices were average and so was their customer service. They were fine but didn’t distinguish themselves in any way. 

What killed them? I suspect competition with that other big California astronomy dealer with brick-and-mortar stores, Orion, didn’t help. I’d also guess the decline of Parks took them with it, with Scope City disappearing at about the same time as Parks. What do I remember about them? Sadly, a scam “Scope City” website that has appeared periodically over the years.

Pocono Mountain Optics

The only pic I have of the Pocono bunch (TSP '97). They are set up along the far wall.

Why mention Pocono? They’ve been gone these twenty-five years. Because when they had their house in order, they were one of the best astronomy dealers I’ve ever bought from. They had a big presence at the Texas Star Party and smaller events as well. What spoiled Glen Jacobs’ party? I remember it being said that opening a second store, “Pocono Mountain West,” had something to do with it. And that personal problems played a part as well. Anyway, I used the Desert Storm cover I got from them to project my truss tube Dob, Old Betsy, for well over a decade. What’s memorable about them? Great product selection, great service.

Lumicon

This is another one I can’t believe is gone. Most remember Lumicon for their filters, but they sold a lot more stuff—off axis guiders, film hypersensitizing chambers, even digital setting circles. The creation of Dr. Jack Marling, an astrophysics PhD, the company was one of the big players in amateur astronomy from its founding in the late 70s, till it went out of business for all practical purposes in the late 1990s. You can still buy Lumicon filters, but they have nothing to do with the original Lumicon.

What happened? By the early 1990s, the company encountered financial difficulties and Marling had to sell it. The person he sold it to was Maurice Sweiss, the  owner/founder of Parks Optical. He thought the acquisition would allow him to broaden his product line, especially with the highly regarded Lumicon light pollution reduction filters.

That worked well at first…but… as the 1990s ended, there were other problems afflicting Parks in addition to those above. Like their inability to adjust to Internet marketing, and a general decline in the service they provided their customers. Not long after the turn of the century, I tried to order a set of "Lumicon" digital setting circles from them, but they weren’t interested in/couldn’t actually provide them to me. Shortly thereafter the company was gone. What will I remember about ‘em? Those groundbreaking filters.

Adirondack Video Astronomy

If there were ever a small astronomy company that’s memorable (for me), it’s Adirondack Video Astronomy. You can read the story of my introduction to deep sky video imaging here but suffice to say I was all about astro-video for years. I used the company’s Stellacam II deep sky video camera for about half of The Herschel Project (until I got a Mallincam Xtreme). When skies or telescope wouldn’t allow me to see the fuzzy I was after visually, onto the C8 when the Stellacam. Herschels were nothing; it would show PGC galaxies in 10 second exposures.

The Stellacam was the brainchild of John Cordiale and was sold by Adirondack Video Astronomy of Glen Falls, New York. If memory serves, Cordiale didn’t own the business; that was a Jim Barot. While they sold an array of products not  unlike those sold by any other astro-dealer, the Stellacams are what made them the success they were in the early 2000s.

What killed “AVA”? A failure to keep up. Mallincam quickly left Adirondack in the dust. They had what we astrovideographers wanted, a cooled color deep sky video camera,  which AVA struggled to produce. Also, AVA never promoted their cameras as much as they could have and didn’t engage with the astronomy community to the extent they should have. They were another fixture in amateur astronomy that just faded away. They promised a color camera for a couple of years, but that never happened. I believe AVA still exists as a video equipment/production company, but there are no more Stellacams. What do I remember about them? ALL THE FAINT FUZZIES in near real-time.

My how your old Uncle does run on! I suppose that is enough for now. If I get enough huzzahs, I may do a part two of late greats.

Next Time:  I plan to try to bag My Yearly M13 (image) ASAP, and I guess that’s a good time to do the other Hercules M for the Messier Project, too.

 

Well, muchachos, down the Messier Road we go. Again. I’ll have some different articles for you in the coming months so the Messiers don’t get old (could they, really?), but tonight we are in for some Messier Masterpieces.

Though, by midmonth, I began to wonder if I would bag a single M for you. Our formerly dry spring is a thing of the past down here in the ‘Swamp; as that old Moon waned, the rains came—did they ever. I had to strategize. The SeeStar images here are older ones, both dating back to the time when The Suzie first came to stay at Chaos Manor South. I figgered it was best to concentrate on visual in the limited amount of time I’d have under the stars.

That visual telescope? I won’t lie; Unk was awful lazy. It’s already warm tending to hot, even into the dark hours—when they get here, damn this DST—and so humid that I felt like I could cut the air with that proverbial knife. So, no 10-inch Dob. The scope of choice would be a Dobsonian, yes, but Little Debbie, the 6-inch f/5 SkyWatcher. Also in the interest of making best use of the time I had under the stars, I would use Debs in full goto mode. While she is easy to use manually, or in “Freedom Find” mode (like digital setting circles), I knew I couldn’t dawdle on these late April evenings.   

Canes Venatici is an unassuming little constellation consisting of two medium bright stars, Chara (Asterion) and Cor Caroli, lying just northeast of the Dipper/Plough handle. You’d think the average deep sky hound wouldn’t give these dogs a second look. Ha! This is one time when looks sure can be deceiving. The constellation’s small area contains some of the most stupendous deep sky objects in the heavens.

Tonight, we’ll be back to comparing what Unk saw from the back 40 of Chaos Manor South, to what John Mallas saw from a dark site on long-ago nights. I enjoyed seeing what ace observer Sue French thought of the objects I viewed last time, but I guess John Mallas’ The Messier Album is just a touchstone with me and always will be.

Messier 51

I ain’t saving the best for last—if you consider the famous Whirlpool Galaxy the best of the Canes bunch. Oh, it can be a stunner from dark skies, but from a humid backyard? Well, we’ll see…

M51, NGC 5194, was first recorded by, yes, Charles Messier. He spotted it on October 13, 1773: "Very faint nebula, without stars."  Finally!  So far in this series, there haven’t been a lot of Messier objects actually discovered by Messier. To be clear, he saw M51, and only M51, not its famous companion, NGC 5195. That had to wait until 1781 when Chuck’s bestie, Pierre Méchain, saw that M51 was “a double galaxy.”

The Whirlpool appearance? That took even more time, until 1845, when Bill Parsons, the Earl of Rosse saw its spiral structure with his 72-inch dob-like scope. The galaxy’s starkly visible spiral arms (with enough aperture and dark skies) is one of the things that make the Whirlpool so striking. The other being the companion galaxy, NGC 5195. 

There it rested for many a long year. Nobody knew what  this funny “spiral nebula” was. Some thought it might be a Solar System in the process of forming. Most admitted they had no idea what M51 and the similar spiral nebule scattered across the sky were. Knowledge of that had to wait until the 20^th Century, the coming of the giant California telescopes, and Edwin Hubble and his contemporaries.

Brass tacks on M51? It is a near face-on spiral of Hubble type SA(s)bc pec. From its spot in Canes not far from the Dipper’s handle, it shines at a magnitude of 8.10. That doesn’t sound bad at all, but remember, that’s how bright this 11’12” x 8’24” object would be if it were compressed down to the size of a star. As is, its surface brightness is 12.77, not terrible, but it will not put your eye out.  The companion? NGC 5195, an SB0 peculiar galaxy, shines at magnitude 9.55 and subtends 4’21” x 4’23”.

You don’t have to know much about galaxies to know why M51 has that “pec” (peculiar) tag in its Hubble type. It and NGC 5195 are interacting. In deep images, it’s clear the “bridge” connecting the two, which has been pulled off the galaxies by their encounter, is accompanied by clouds of matter/stars flung off into intergalactic space. One thing not so obvious? NGC 5195 is in the background and is receding from M51.

What did I think of M51 in my salad days? When I got past the novice stage, it wasn’t one of the tougher galaxies for me. Hell, I once saw it from a spot just a mile or so from our big 1960s shopping center, Bel Air Mall, with a 6-inch f/8 Newtonian. It looked like nothing more than two blobs—a big blob and a smaller blob—but it was there and easy enough to see. So it was on the April evening of 2026 when I turned Little Debbie to it: two blobs. It was maybe easier to see for me than it was years ago, both because of years more observing experience and because f/5 Debbie’s shorter focal length made it easier to find an eyepiece that frames the pair well.

If You want to see spiral structure, get thee to a dark site. There, a 6-inch or 8-inch will show it convincingly. You really want to see the spiral pattern and the bridge connecting the two? For that, I need a 12-inch like my long-gone friend, Old Betsy, and dark skies like those of the Texas Star Party. Don’t have either? A small smartscope will have no problem showing mucho detail from suburban digs, as Suze did in this spring 2024 shot.

John Mallas was a master observer with a dark observing location. I know that, but what he brought home with a long focal length achromat, his f/15 Unitron, amazes me still. While John says his observation of the bridge and spiral pattern were possibly spurious and due to his familiarity with photographs of the Whirlpool, I believe he saw traces of both, quite a coup for that old-fashioned refractor.  I certainly agree with his declaration that M51 is  “one of the finest objects in the heavens.” That being the case, get outside and have a look at it ASAP. It is riding high in early evening right now, but will all too soon be crashing into the west.

Messier 63

M63, the Sunflower Galaxy, is mostly deservedly a renowned deep sky object. Like M62 over in neighboring Coma Berenices, this galaxy hold up well under light polluted skies. Its discoverer, Pierre Méchain, didn’t have to worry about light pollution, but he was hampered by his telescope’s crude design and small aperture. Nevertheless, he saw it. This was his very first discovery of a Deep Sky Object when he spotted it on June 14, 1779. He must have been excited, since he passed the discovery on to his friend Charles that very evening.

Messier 63, NGC 5055 is an SA spiral galaxy of magnitude 8.60 and a size of 13’10” x 7’56”. Despite its relatively large size, the galaxy remains bright thanks to its intermediate inclination to us. The Sunflower name is due to its multiple, dusty, patchy arms which supposedly make it look like an enormous cosmic blossom.

From dark sites with my 12-inch Dobsonian or C11, M63’s arms were easy enough to see. But whether in the eyepiece or in long exposure images, I’ve always had a hard time imagining this as a sunflower. Oh, the bright, elongated core does sorta look like a flower’s pistil, and I suppose the patch arms are the petals…but… What has it looked like to me most of the time? With most of my observing over the decades being done from light polluted backyards? What I saw one long gone spring evening with the old C11, Big Bertha, was typical:

M63 doesn’t reveal any of its spiral arms in the 12.5-inch Dobsonian. The disk is fairly large…and I can see both a smooth brightening towards its center and the occasional hint of a tiny, point-like nucleus. After trying a variety of eyepieces…I begin to think I am seeing spiral structure, but it is incredibly subtle and may have more to do with what I remember from photos…than with what I’m actually seeing.

John Mallas saw more with his 4-inch than I did with my 12-inch. He was using that Unitron from a dark site under drier conditions than I usually have, though. Nevertheless, seeing the spiral detail he recorded (his drawing of the galaxy is not much different from the book’s photograph by co-author, Evered Kreimer) is quite a feat and is one reason I keep coming back to this book all these long years down the road.

Messier 106

M106, NGC 4258, is strange. Mostly that strangeness concerns the fact that here we have a bright and detailed Messier galaxy that is rarely talked about by amateur astronomers. I can only suppose that is because it’s in a rather barren area of Canes Venatici northeast of the Dipper’s bowl.

M64 is a magnitude 8.40 Hubble Type SAB galaxy with an intermediate inclination to us. It’s large at 18’36” x 7’12”, but its inclination to our little rock keeps it quite prominent. In size and appearance, M106 is like M31. In other words, this is one big spiral in the eyepiece and in reality. M 106 is yet another discovery by Pierre Méchain. We don’t know much more about that than that he discovered it in 1781—presumably in the spring—and passed the info to Messier. Charles did not add it to his catalog, however. In fact, it was not a “Messier” until 1947 when Helen Sawyer Hogg added it to her version of the M-list.

Under dark skies with medium aperture instruments, M106 has an odd look. That is due to the presence of one spiral arm that’s different in apprance from the others. This large arm is yellowish and appears to have a preponderance of older suns. There are also some large dusty patches toward M106’s center. I can see these features from dark skies with larger instruments without difficulty. From the ol’ backyard with a scope like Little Debbie, I must be satisfied with a slightly elongated glow with a compact core. On the best nights, fleeting arm detail pops in and out of view.

Our old friend John saw a strongly elongated galaxy looking a little like NGC 7331 in shape. He also recorded “a fat central knot of fuzzy light.” Not much different from what Debs showed me, but given his drawing, Mallas was able to pick up the elongated disk with more ease than I could in my backyard with my seventy-something-year-old eyes.

Messier 94

Many years ago, when I first moved to the old urban Chaos Manor South, I began to call M94 “Old Reliable.” On most nights, I could depend on seeing M94 with any telescope I turned to it. This Sab near-face-on galaxy shines at magnitude 8.2 and, since it is only 11’12” x 9’6” (less is apparent visually), it stands out very well indeed.

What makes this galaxy so bright? It is compact, sur, but what cranks it up is its center, a blazing disk. The galaxy is thought to harbor a supermassive and (maybe) feeding black hole at its center. The oddness doesn’t end there, outside the central regions is a ring where a huge amount of star formation is taking place.

This beast is another Pierre Méchain discovery, with him observing it on March 22, 1781. Pierre got word of his new find to Charles, who not only added it to his catalog, but observed it with his small scope on March 24, 1781. To them, it was just a wee nebulous spot. As with other galaxies, its nature wasn’t known until the last century.

For me? I was always happy to commune with M94, whose nickname is “The Croc’s Eye Galaxy.” Under a dark sky with larger instruments, it does begin to resemble a reptile’s eye with its bright center, star ring and other faint details. For me and my little scope at Chaos Manor South, though, the galaxy looked like nothing more than a distant, unresolved globular cluster, a fuzzy spot of light with a bright center. From suburban sites my C11, however, could begin to pick up further details including the inner ring and traces of the elusive arms.

John Mallas saw essentially what I saw with my 4-inch and 6-inch telescopes from my urban backyard, a disk with a bright center. He does record one additional and interesting feature: an “extension,” a near straight “arm” connected to the disk. What he saw I am not sure. One of M94’s tight spiral arms at the very edge of detection? Maybe. Seeing even a trace of the Croc's spiral detail is a stretch for a 4-inch achromat, I’m afraid, but…maybe…

Messier 3

I suppose I did leave the best for last. Oh, the rest are beautiful, but Messier 3, NGC 5272, is spectacularly beautiful. It is a Magnitude 6.3 globular star cluster of Shapley-Sawyer type VI (“intermediate richness”). At mag 6.3, this 18’.0” x 18’.0” globular star cluster really lights up the spring deep sky. While I always think it as being in Boötes, it is just over the Boötes border in Canes.  

Lo and behold, another M originally discovered by Charles, who bagged it on May 3, 1764. Given his small telescope, what Messier discovered was nothing more than a small nebulous ball. First resolution of M3 into stars was by the world’s greatest amateur astronomer, William Herschel, in 1784.

I don’t believe I ever resolved M3 when I was a kid touring the deep sky with a 4-inch Palomar Junior reflector. Likely because I didn’t know how to resolve it, but not just that. In those days, amateur astronomy gurus preached two things:  "Don’t use high magnification," and "Resolving globulars requires 6-inches of aperture." These things aren’t always or even often true. Some globs may require that much aperture (all globulars are not the same, not hardly), but many only require it at low magnification. I can begin to see resolution in M3 with a 3-inch apochromatic refractor at 150x. In my backyard, Debbie had no trouble showing stars in the glob under our resolutely gray skies. The SeeStar, of course, was not challenged.

Mr. Mallas? What he saw with his Unitron is like what I see in my 3-inch William Optics fluorite refractor (an f/7), Some stars around the periphery of the cluster, and mucho graininess across the core. M3 has long been a fave of mine and is always a nice change of pace from spring’s dim galaxies. By the time the season ends, I become convinced it is just as good as M13. Of course, the first look I get of M13 as it climbs away from the horizon disabuses your silly old Uncle of that notion.

Totals: 21 Down, 89 to Go

Next month? On to the dense galaxy forests of Coma Berenices.

       

Little Debbie's new light shroud/dew shield has made a big difference!

As I have often said, “In spring, a young (or not so young) astronomer’s mind turns to thoughts of galaxies.” It’s difficult to believe spring is suddenly rolling along, and the summer star pictures are making their presence felt in the east, but here we are. Time to get after those island universes, muchachos.

If only it were that simple. At first it looked like it might be a good galaxy season this year. Clear skies had been the rule as winter transitioned to spring. Weeks went by with nary a drop of rain. Hell, the big topic with the OMs and YLs at Breakfast with the Hams at the Whataburger turned from scuttlebutt about the latest DXpedition to, “When are we gonna get some rain?!”

Of course, that didn’t last. Just as the old Moon waned and the spring stars climbed higher…yep, you guessed it. Clouds and thunderstorms returned to Possum Swamp. I did get a couple of decent if not quite perfect evenings, though, and thought I'd better get back on Messier Project Road while I could; spring is absolutely flying by.

I didn’t have a lot of dark-of-the-Moon nights, but I was able to visit Ursa Major’s wonders, M101, M81, M82, M108, and M97  on a couple of passable, if hazy, evenings. At least it was warm enough that your aged Uncle didn’t flee inside till 10pm. I did take some pictures, but I concentrated on visual observing when I could (not with M101 from my suburban backyard, of course). Said visual observing was enhanced by my latest project. I had done what I should have done a long time ago and rigged up a shroud/dew shield for my 6-inch SkyWatcher collapsible Dobsonian.

It is a good telescope, but the slightest bit of ambient light spoils the party. I’d tried various dodges, like wrapping fabric around the truss (difficult because the wee scope only  has two truss tubes). Finally, I hit upon the idea of using thin, black craft foam. And placing it inside the truss tubes.

After considerable cussing and mistakes (your old Uncle is an absolute menace with scissors) I was done. The plastic shroud moves with the tubes and upper cage (if you can call it that) and collapses with them. It has offered major improvement to field darkness—even when I thought stray light wasn’t getting into the system, it evidently was. If you face the same problem, a nice feller on the Internet thought of the idea before I did and has a good YouTube video on making a shroud for SkyWatcher’s small collapsible-tube Dobs. Just Google.

Anyhoo, let’s poke around in the bear’s den a bit…. We’ll be moving on from John Mallas and The Messier Album for tonight, and I at first thought I’d see what Scotty had to say about these deep sky objects. But then I changed my mind. Let’s see what that other dean of deep sky observers, Sue French, thinks of tonight’s DSOs.

M101

Every kid with a new telescope wants to see M101, the Pinwheel Galaxy. I know I did when I was an 11-year-old with a 3-inch reflector. Looking at pictures of this beautiful near-face-on galaxy in my few astronomy books had a rather profound effect on little Rod.  Those wheeling spiral arms made me believe astronomy, amateur astronomy at least, was for me. Of course, I longed to see this distant giant with my own eyes, and it looked so pretty in its pictures that I figured it would be easy to see. Alas, a wet-behind-the-ears amateur with a tiny telescope in suburbia didn’t have a prayer of seeing it. Indeed, I never even caught a trace of it in my Tasco.

Let’s do the just-the-facts stuff before we go further with observing. M101, NGC 5457, was like many of the other “Messier” objects, discovered by Pierre Méchain, who pulled it out of a dark French sky on 27 March 1781. Stats? This is a Hubble SAB type spiral galaxy. While it has the not-too-intimidating magnitude of 7.9, remember, that is how bright it would be if this large (28’48” x 26’54”) object were shrunken down to stellar size. As is, at near 30’ across it is challenging from poorer observing sites. Some rate M74 as even more difficult, but I disagree. M74 can be seen in drier and less hazy autumn skies. M101 is tough.

So, how well has your silly old Uncle been able to see it? From a dark site, it is not much of a problem. You want a telescope/ocular combination that places enough empty field around the galaxy to provide some contrast, but given that, it’s often easy. It doesn’t even take a big scope. Many years ago, the Pinwheel was spectacular in my old Ultima C8 from the pitch-black skies of French Camp, Mississippi and the Mid South Star Gaze, showing plenty of spiral detail. From the clear skies of West Virginia and Spruce Knob Mountain at the Almost Heaven Star Party? Like shooting fish in the proverbial barrel with 10x50 binoculars.

That’s out in the dark. How about the backyard? You must be satisfied just to have seen a trace. I was determined to observe the Pinwheel for my Urban Astronomer’s Guide, but nothing I tried worked from old Chaos Manor South’s urban backyard. I finally took my (focal reduced) C11 to the public Schools’ Environmental Studies Center in the suburbs. I could see it then, yeah… As a slight (and I do mean slight) brightening at the field center. I was able to replicate that observation with an 8-inch f/5 Newtonian.

At the new Chaos Manor South with the 6-inch f/5 SkyWatcher (who says her name is “Debbie”)? I simply have not been able to do it so far. Maybe I’ll wait for a particularly dry evening (“dry” is as important as “dark” for this one, just as with M74). I did want to see it somehow, though, so I gave little Suzie, the SeeStar S50, a shot. Easy-peasy. Even with just 45 minutes of exposure (there was enough light pollution-scattering haze that I was loath to go longer) the Pinwheel looks good as a bright-backyard snapshot.

So, what does Sue French think of the Pinwheel in her (excellent) book, Deep Sky Wonders? From a Dark site with her 10-inch, Sue calls the galaxy, “[A] grand Catharine-wheel firework shedding multiple spiral arms.  Two arms north of the core unwrap to the west.” While Sue’s views were like what I’ve seen with 8 – 11-inch instruments from dark locations, it’s clear she is a better observer than I am and picked up more spiral structure and more easily than I have. Bottom line? If you want to see spiral arms, get thee to a dark site (or turn a smartscope loose on it).

M82

On to the (Exploding) Cigar Galaxy. For any deep sky tourist, Messier 82 (and nearby M81) are prime stopovers. Since I talked about M81 in the last installment of the Little Old AstroBlog from Chaos Manor South, we’ll stick to M82. What is my fondest memory of this one? Not how it looked to me as a kid, but as an adult.

We’ll get to that in a minute, but let’s bone up on the Cigar’s background. M82 and M81 were first seen by Johann Bode in 1774. However, in 1779, Pierre Méchain  independently rediscovered both Ms  and reported them to his buddy, Chuck. So, I guess you can say Pierre is  batting a thousand tonight.  

This strange galaxy’s specs are impressive. It shines at magnitude 8.4—and looks it. M82, NGC 3034, is only 11’18” x 4’12” so its surface brightness remains high. It is classified as an irregular galaxy and is in a close to edge-on orientation to us. If you must observe the deep sky from the suburbs, edge-on galaxies are, you’ll find, some of the easiest to see (if not always easy). Anyhow, a look at M82 with even a small scope hints that something bad has happened to it. That was no doubt a close encounter with M81 a long, long time ago.

Also a long time ago, if on a human scale, I was doing a series of columns, “From City Lights to Deep Space,” for my local astronomy club’s newsletter, the pieces that later went on to form The Urban Astronomer’s Guide. I had my share of failures with deep sky objects from my urban back forty. Mostly when I was working at the low end of the aperture scale, using my time-honored 4-inch Edmund Scientific Palomar Junior reflector to see what I could dig out of urban skies. M81 admittedly wasn’t much—I’ve never seen its spiral structure at a compromised site with any scope—but M82 was a different story. The little cigar was bright and crisscrossed with a dark lane or three.

To go beyond that, larger aperture and a dark sky are required. Seeing the red gas plumes being emitted from the core? As far as I know, you need a camera, but you don’t necessarily need long exposures. I was able to see the “explosion” part of this exploding cigar with ease from the Chiefland Astronomy Village with my Mallincam Extreme deep sky video camera in 15 second shots. A hint of that is visible in Suzie Q's shot here if you zoom in. Maybe I should give the girl more time on the Cigar some night. 

Visually today, from the better skies of the new Chaos Manor South with a little more aperture? In 6-inch Little Debbie (she hates it when I call her that, “What am I? A cupcake, Rod? Don’t answer that!”) the view isn’t worlds different from what it was in my Pal Junior. The disk of is brighter, though, and the dark lanes and patches easier. With her 10-inch, Sue goes beyond what I’ve seen easily in similar aperture instruments, “This scope revealed the tapered form of M82…with three main dark patches. A broad one east of the galaxy’s center cuts across M82, with the brightest portion of the galaxy lying to its east.” Suzie turned in a nice portrait of the pair. The usual problem was present, though:  M82 is easy to OVERexpose.

There is a lot to see in M81 and M82, but you won’t see it with quick visits. Study, at least half an hour of study, on each is not too much. That will pay off, though. While you may never be in Sue French’s league as an observer, you will find that every time you visit you see just a little more.

M97

Ah, the good old Owl, M97, NGC 3587. Yes, this was another one I longed to see as a kid. Unlike M101, though, looking at this one’s photos gave me TOUGH ONE vibes. I wanted to see it, though, and most of all to see the eyes, those two weird dark spots staring across the light years. Amazingly, I did see it. With that very same Palomar Junior mentioned above.

The Owl Nebula is, of course, a planetary nebula, the corpse of a solar mass-range star that has shed its outer layers and is now a fading white dwarf (that central star is a dim magnitude 16). At magnitude 9.9, this medium-sized (3’24” x 3’18”) planetary is not a challenge for even marginally experienced observers.

History-wise, M97 is another catch by Messier bestie Méchain, who spotted it on 16 February 1787. There’s no mention of dark spots by him, and evidently the eyes were first seen (or at least recorded) and the “owl” name given the nebula by the Earl of Rosse who observed it with his 72 inch reflector.

The night I set out to catch an Owl in 1966 was one of the Saturday evening observing runs of our kid astronomy club, The Backyard Astronomy Society. Frequent naysayer Wayne Lee laughed, proclaiming I didn’t have a dog’s chance in hell of seeing such a faint object from his mama’s backyard. But there it was, if barely, No eyes, but the faint puffball of the planetary’s disk was plain in my ½ inch Ramsden eyepiece.

The secret to seeing the eyes in these latter days? They are not always easy, but an OIII filter can make them easier. While it might sound like an “averted imagination” observation with Little Debbie from the backyard of today's Chaos Manor South, I'm convinced I've spotted them. Maybe. The 6-inch showed the disk of the nebula without difficulty, however, if with a filter. Like many planetaries that were considered challenging 40 or 50 years ago, the OIII, a filter that enhances the Oxygen III emissions of planetary nebulae, has made all the difference in the world.

This being a rather small object for Suzie, the shot here was done last spring with Evie, the 4-inch Evolution smartscope. I was just learning to use the telescope, so the brief exposure wasn’t anything to write home about, but the eyes and the triangle of dim stars hidden in the nebulosity are easy to see in my snapshot. In 10-inch Zelda, the eyes are often visible from the backyard and always from a somewhat darker site I occasionally use.

Ms. French also turned her 10-inch reflector to M97. Ace observer that she is, she had no trouble at all with the dark patches. She notes that the nebula appears slightly oval. It is (very slightly), but I don’t think I have ever noticed that. Maybe I’m always too fixated on the eyes to get the bigger picture.

M108

I also saw this nearly edge-on galaxy, Messier 108, NGC 3556, the Surfboard Galaxy, as a novice observer; maybe on the same night Wayne Lee and I and the rest of the gang finally conquered the nearby Owl. On those long-lost evenings, I was even able to see some details with mucho difficulty. However, they gave me the wrong idea about this galaxy. In my small telescope, it looked quite a bit like larger M82, and me and my buds christened this one “Cigar Junior.” In truth, it is a far more normal—if dusty—spiral galaxy.

M108 is an SB galaxy that shines at magnitude 10 and subtends 8’42” x 2’12”. As with the big Cigar, being edge-on makes it easy(er) to see with small telescopes from bright backyards. Technically, this galaxy was another Pierre Méchain discovery on 19 February 1781, but it was “lost”  and subsequently recovered by Messier on March 24 of that same year.

In these latter days, knowing what M108 is, a dusty, not exploding, galaxy, that’s how I tend to see it. Truthfully, though, in a 6-inch at medium power, it still retains that M82 look for me. Even Suzie’s brief exposure, however, hints at its true nature. In the French 10-inch? Sue mentions, “mottled,” which to me hints at its M82 guise. But she goes on to call it “patchy,” which is an indication of its true nature. She doesn’t mention it looking anything like M82, either. Am I the only one who sees it that way (at times)?

And that is a wrap, campers. I know this has been a long one for “only” four objects. But they are terrific ones; there is just so much to see in this old bear’s den. If you’ve clear skies, get out there and scan the dipper while you can! Me? Little Debbie is safely resting in the Sunroom, and I am sitting in the den with the cats, drinking cold 807s, and supposedly watching YouTube, but actually still contemplating the Realm of the Great Bear.

The Bottom Line:

21 down 89 to go. 

Next Time? Canes and Coma…if the weather gods allow it…

 

What? No Messier Project this time?! Well, muchachos, who wants “the same” every month? Month after month? I thought we’d take a semi-break for this installment and talk about a book that’s not only one of my favorites, but one I don’t believe I’ve mentioned in all the years the little old blog from Chaos Manor South has been on the air. As you might have gleaned from the title, that book is Turn Left at Orion.

Before we get started, though, my thanks to all who have enquired about Miss Dorothy. She is much improved, back home after a month in the hospital and in rehab, and is getting around with a walker. She can do many things herself now, safely. She’s even been out for lunch to the famous Heroes Sports Bar and Grill with her friends. Dorothy still has a road ahead of her, but her improvement allowed me to think about the AstroBlog and even offer up a short(er) one this month.

Anyhoo, Brother Guy Consolmagno’s (SJ) and Don Davis’ Turn Left at Orion, first published in 1989, has sold over 100,000 copies since it appeared, quite an accomplishment for an amateur astronomy book (let me tell you). However, I don’t hear it talked about quite as much as I used to. Maybe that’s because when it first came out, novice amateur astronomers began their travels across the sky the same way we always had, by star-hopping. Now, of course, many begin with computerized goto. Finding your way to targets is, as you might have guessed, a major part of Turn Left.

I’m not saying one way of navigating the sky is better than the other. If you like to star hop, star hop. It was—for me—a matter of pride to learn the sky in detail. However, if you’re more interested in seeing than hunting, I can’t fault you for that. By all means go goto, I did a long time ago. Many professional astronomers, I note, do not have more than a casual knowledge of the layout of the heavens. Luckily, finding things is not all there is to Turn Left at Orion.

Finally, introduction-wise, why did it take me so long to get around to talking about Turn Left? I didn’t have a copy for the longest time. In fact, I believe the book went missing when I moved into (old) Chaos Manor South all those long years ago. I meant to replace it, but never got around to it. Occasionally, I’d think, “You know, that star hopping book was mucho fun. Wish I still had it. I should buy another copy.” But I didn’t. Until last year. A used copy was being sold by a nice feller at last year’s Deep South Star Gaze for the princely sum of five bucks. You can bet I snapped it up.

What is the book about? What’s it good for? Guy sums it up elegantly in the introduction. After relating how much trouble he had with star atlases and other astronomy books, and how he didn’t begin enjoying the stars until his friend Don helped him find some good objects, he concludes, “[I]t occurred to me that all the books in the world weren’t as good as having a friend next to you to point out what to look for and how to find it.” That’s what Turn Left at Orion is, that friend at your elbow guiding you to wonders.

Following the introduction and some preparatory material on directions in the sky and other basics, as well as some valuable words (and sketches) concerning what deep sky objects will actually look like in a small telescope, we come to the meat of the book: A journey across the sky to hundreds of beautiful objects arranged in seasonal order. The book is in no way revolutionary or even innovative in its instructions for star hopping. It doesn't need or want to be. Turn Left just explains the process simply and clearly—like some kind person did for you early in your astronomy career. 

Where would I begin with Turn Left at Orion? Even with spring here, the winter objects still dominate the early evening sky—and early evening is when you can expect old Unk to be in the backyard with a telescope in these latter days. We’ve already been through a selection of winter wonders in the last couple of Messier AstroBlogs, though, so, yeah, let’s turn east to the coming of the galaxies. Why did I say "semi" break from the Messier Project? You cannot visit this area and not look at two special Messier objects.

Go out as soon as it’s dark—damn this DST—look northeast, and what knocks your socks off? The Great Bear and her Dipper dominate that part of the sky in early spring. There are countless faint galaxies scattered across the Bowl and, indeed, sprinkled through the whole constellation, but if you want eye-candy think “M81 and M82.” That’s just what Unk did the night I hauled my 6-inch SkyWatcher Newtonian and the Turn Left into Chaos Manor South’s backyard.

So, off to the Dipper. While the authors say you don’t need to know the constellations to use the book, that’s not really true; you need to at least be able to identify brighter stars, and prominent constellations and asterisms. That said, the book’s instructions for getting to M81 and M82 are time-honored simplicity itself,

Find the four stars that make up the bowl of the Big Dipper. Draw a line running diagonally across the bowl from Phecda (the one at the handle end that’s not part of the handle) to Dubhe, the star at the opposite side of the bowl. Step from Phecda to Dubhe and one step again along that line.

We are given some advice as to what to look for in the finder as we move across this somewhat star-barren area, but I’ve never worried about that. I did what I always have done, jumped from Dubhe the same distance it is from Phecda, and put my eye to the eyepiece.

Suzie's M81

So, what did ol’ Unk see on this so-so evening on the first day of spring? One look in the 20mm Orion Expanse eyepiece (the 6-inch f/5 has a 1.25-inch focuser) showed I was on the correct field, with M82, the famous Cigar Galaxy, almost centered (just luck, y’all). A little slewing around, and I got its companion, M81, Bode’s galaxy, in the field with it.  

We will revisit the two on a Messier Project night, but I was happy with the view. M82 showed a prominent dark lane crossing its disk, and M81 was, well, OK. While my S50 Smartscope, Suzie, easily brings back its glorious spiral shape from my suburban backyard, I have never seen a hint of that from compromised skies—with any telescope. You get an elongated disk with a brighter core. On nights of superior quality, I have occasionally seen subtle mottling, maybe a hint of the arms. Or maybe mostly averted imagination.

The best view I’ve ever had of M82 was from the uber-dark skies of the Prude Ranch during the Texas Star Party. My old 12-inch, Betsy, would show the arms in their glory there, but even then they wouldn’t exactly put your eye out.

What do our authors think of the pair? I commend them for not being too cautious. Some books of this sort are afraid of raising a novice observer’s hopes too high when it comes to deep sky objects in a small telescope. I think Guy and Don give us the “just right” here and elsewhere in the book,

"M81, the more rounded one, is not perfectly round, but rather elongated…it’s slightly brighter in the center. M82, the thin one, is lumpy and irregular in shape. On a really good night larger telescopes (6” to 8” or larger) can show a dark lane of dust.”

I have seen M82’s dust lanes from downtown Possum Swamp with my 4-inch Palomar Junior, but again, I think our authors strike a good balance. Not too sanguine about what you’ll see, but not too cautious, either.

And so it goes for the rest of the book:  Guy and Don take us to an object, tell us how it looks (in a smaller instrument), and tell us something about it (as was known in the late 1980s in my first edition). They don’t just stick to the Messier list or the deep sky, either. Their beat includes the Solar System, and we also visit interesting stars and even some NGC objects. Turn Left at Orion is still in print and readily available. 

In other words, this book is a winner whether you’re a beginner or an experienced observer who just wants to visit some Good Ones, especially with a smaller scope—goto or manual. Yes, the book forms a good list for use with a goto scope. However, I enjoy it most the old-fashioned way since getting there—the trip—is often at least half the fun.

Any criticisms? Turn Left at Orion is devoid of astrophotos. I don’t believe there is a single one. I'm sure that is by design, since the authors don’t want to give a novice the wrong idea about how a deep sky object should look in an eyepiece. There are plenty of eyepiece drawings, and while not masterful or elaborate, they are good enough to show Joe or Jane Newastronomer what they should see.

“Hmm…dew’s really falling now.  Reckon I am going to carry the SkyWatcher back inside. I want to check on Miss D, feed the felines, and maybe even crack open a cold 807 or three.” We didn’t go far tonight, but we did go far enough to bring forth my memories of the 1980s and simple telescopes and a classic of a book I used on nights when the stars were still new and fresh for me.

Next Time: Back on the Messier Road we go. I need to clean up a few Winter objects, but we’ll also get started on spring (if the spring storms let us).

Muchachos, this will be a short one. Those of you who are Facebook friends of mine already know my wife, the dear Miss Dorothy, fell and broke a hip. I am grateful to those of you who asked after her and expressed your concern. After multiple hours of surgery, she is on the mend and has been transferred to a rehabilitation facility. I didn’t have much time to work on the blog, but I did want to keep to the Messier Road…

Taurus

M1, the Crab Nebula

Messier 1, Ol’ Crabby, as I called M1 as a boy, a supernova remnant, was discovered by English astronomer John Bevis in 1731. Like more than a few M-objects, it was subsequently “lost,” only to be rediscovered by Charles Messier in 1758. Where does the "Crab" business come from? In the 1840s, Lord Rosse thought the nebula resembled a crab in his big, Dob-like reflector. Why he did, I do not know. It doesn’t look anything like a crustacean to my eyes, or even in Rosse’s original drawing. As most of you know, the Nebula is the remnant of the “guest star” of 1054 recorded by the Chinese. A famous pulsar hides within its folds.

So, how does it look? If you’re a wet-behind-the-ears 12-year-old observer with a 4-inch Newtonian, it doesn’t look like much from a suburban backyard. This was one of the first deep sky objects little Rod located, and suffice-to-say, he was not impressed. I likely passed over it a bunch of times, since, based on the observatory astrophotos in library books, I thought it would be mucho brighter. What it was was a dim oval of light in the field of my ½-inch Ramsden eyepiece. I was disappointed. M1’s visual magnitude figure, 8.8 made is sound reasonably easy. Alas, it’s 8.0’ across, fairly large, so that light is spread out.

That was novice amateur astronomer moi. How about expert observer John Mallas in The Messier Album? John begins by mentioning he had seen M1 as a dim patch in binoculars and in the 40mm finder of his 4-inch, a Unitron refractor. That’s quite a feat in my opinion, though Mallas was observing from far darker skies than I had as a boy, I suppose. He also says he was able to see some “extremely difficult” details in his Unitron, far more than little old me saw with my Palomar Junior. His drawing shows he was at least making out the basic shape of M1.

As with many nebulae, a light pollution reduction filter is key to seeing more detail. In my 12-inch, Old Betsy, an OIII filter finally allowed me to finally observe the filaments that crisscross M1. While the filter enhances these streamers of gas, it darkens the main body of the nebula. With no filter, in Old Betsy and my current “big” scope, Zelda, a 10-inch, the gas filaments disappear, but the nebula's zed or lightning bolt shape becomes clear. The other night with the 6-inch Dob (who has stubbornly not yet told me her name), we were back to the “dim oval” stage.

Suzie, the 50mm ZWO S50 smartscope, had zero trouble with Old Crabby. 45-minutes of exposure in equatorial mode revealed many of the details of the astrophotos in my 1960s astronomy books. Quite amazing, if you ask me. The color is the only thing that has me scratching my head. I’d expected a little green from OIII emission, but that’s not what Suzie’s dual-band filter delivered. I will not quibble with Suze; she did a terrific job for a wee little girl.

M45

The seven sisters, the Pleiades, were covered in my blog article on the 2025 Deep South Star Gaze here.

Orion

M42 and M43

The Great Nebula in Orion is the deep sky object to end all deep sky objects—in the Northern Hemisphere, anyway. I’ve talked about my first looks at M42 as a kid before, notably here, so there is no reason to further gild that lily. It is terrific in any scope or even in smallish binoculars. If M1 tore me down, M42 built me back up and inspired a lifetime of deep sky observing.

As for the “Orion” (as we kid astronomers called it) backstory, that’s a little puzzling. There is no clear record of it from antiquity. Which is strange, since even from modern light-polluted cities it is visible naked eye as a distinctly fuzzy star in Orion’s sword. Has it changed? Become brighter? No one knows. The first reliable record of it comes from Nicolas-Claude Fabri de Peiresc, who had a look at it on a chilly French evening, November 26, 1610. As for specs, it is a mindblower with a visual magnitude of 4.0. Despite its size of 40.0’ x 20.0’, that high magnitude value keeps it bright, and it is easy in any optical instrument—or with none at all. The whole field, which includes the comma-shaped companion nebula, M43, is festooned with dust and gas.

I simply never tire of Messier 42. After 60 years of admiring it, I always find something new. After I got old Betsy and acquired some LPR filters in the early 1990s, I saw more than ever. Notably, intricate detail in M43 and the space between it and the main nebula. Though Old Betsy is long gone, I find the view in the 10-inch nearly equal to what I saw in the 12-inch. And I see more today. My eyes aren’t as good, no, but I can observe M42 on any clear night in a suburban sky far superior to the city one I had to deal with in Bet’s heyday.

John Mallas does a fine job of summing up the glory of M42, “Here is one of the most remarkable areas in the heavens. So many details are visible in even a small telescope that it is difficult to make a realistic drawing.” As is often the case, John’s drawing of the Great Nebula is more of impressionistic than realistic. Over the years, some have criticized his style, but a long time ago I discovered that if you view the drawings in the book under a red light, they look remarkably like what you see in the eyepiece of a small telescope. The Kreimer image wouldn't win any prizes today, but back in the long-ago it was a masterpiece, a revelation.

The very first object I imaged with Suzie two years ago was M42. That was the place to start, a nice bright object while I was learning to use the smartscope. My results firmly clued me in that there damn sure was something to this smartscope business.

M78

The other Messier in Orion is the (seemingly) small reflection nebula M78. It’s yet another M not discovered by the Man himself, but by his eagle-eyed friend Pierre Mechain, who stumbled across a patch of nebulosity in 1780. He told Messier about it, and Chuck immediately added it to his catalog as another comet imposter. It is similar in size and brightness to M1, being at magnitude 8.0 and 8.0’ across, but to me, anyway, it seems easier to see in a small instrument.

M78 is just one small part of an area littered with reflection and emission nebulae. It is merely the brightest member of an interconnected group that includes NGC 2064, NGC 2067, and NGC 2071. All these objects are part of the so-called “Orion B” molecular cloud complex, which is about 1,350 light-years from the third stone from the Sun.

I observed M78 routinely as a boy; the brightest portion of the complex, NGC 2068, is not difficult in a small telescope. In fact, it was the first deep sky object I found by star hopping. I was not overly impressed, though. In a 4-inch from the suburbs, M78 is nothing more than an oval nebula surrounding a pair of stars. When did I begin to see more here? Not till quite a while later when I had darker skies and bigger telescopes. And nebula filters. “Nebula filters?! This is a reflection nebula, not an emission nebula, Unk! A filter won’t help.” Not quite, Skeeter. There is emission nebulosity here, too, and when I glommed onto that fact, I began to see even more in the area.

John Mallas observation of M78 lies somewhere between what I saw as a kid and what I can see of the nebula now. He describes it as comet shaped, which had me scratching my head till I realized he was seeing the faint finger of nebulosity that extends to the east, quite an accomplishment with a 4-inch achromat. 

By the time I got around to turning the S50 on M78, I was aware how powerful the little telescope is, so I shouldn’t have been surprised at what she brought back—but I was. Swathes of gas and dust crowd the frame.

The Bottom Line:

16 Down, 94 to go...

And that is going to be a wrap for this one, muchachos. I am off to visit the lovely Miss Dorothy. I missed posting the January AstroBlog, barely, the first time the blog has missed a month in a long time. I intend to make it up with a “bumper” February article, an extra one, if the sky and events cooperate. Excelsior!

Christmas Eve has once again come to Chaos Manor South. It snuck up on your aged correspondent. Wasn’t it just yesterday that Unk celebrated his summertime birthday with a POTA activation and margaritas at El Giro’s? Enough of that. It is what it is; Christmastime is here! We’ll get to the Yuletide doings ‘round the manse in due course, but first let’s talk about the next bunch of Messiers…

Perseus and Auriga

It wasn’t just Christmas that snuck up on your Old Uncle. I belatedly realized the western reaches of Perseus the Hero are getting awful close to the Meridian by mid-evening, and that’s not a good place for picture-taking.  With no time to waste, Unk set up Miss Suzie, the ZWO smartscope, in the back forty on a clear but damp late fall evening and got to work.

Messier 76

First up of Perseus’ two Ms was the Little Dumbbell Nebula (aka, “Barbell” and “Cork”), NGC 650, a well-known if not oft-observed planetary nebula. Once again, we have an object not discovered by Chuck Messier himself, but by prolific observer Pierre Méchain (in 1780). M76 is a magnitude 10.1 planetary nebula, the corpse of a dead star, that measures 3’07” x 2’18”. And there you have the two things that account for M76’s relative lack of popularity with observers: It is small and sounds as if it will be faint.

I had intended to observe M76 visually with Zelda, the 10-inch Dob, but wimped out. What I shoulda done was haul Miss Zelda outside in late afternoon. Alas, I got distracted by other things, and it was dark before I knew it. I wasn’t about to lug her down even the few steps of the deck in anything but broad daylight, so I settled for little Tanya, my 4.5-inch f/5 rescue-scope Newtonian.

I suppose getting under dark skies with Z for a few nights at the Deep South Star Gaze got me back in the red-dot finder groove, because I had no problem getting the Little Dumbbell in the field of a 10mm Plössl (one of the two the humble eyepieces Celestron included with Miss T.). I wouldn’t say the nebula was bright without a filter, but it was doable. While some will tell you M76 is a tough Messier, it’s not. The nebula’s small size keeps its surface brightness relatively high, and adding a light pollution reduction (LPR) filter makes observing it like shooting fish in the proverbial barrel. I routinely viewed this planetary from the suburbs with my old and long-gone ETX-60 (with a filter).  

OK, so what was M76 like in The Tanya? Unfiltered at 57x with the Celestron Plössl, the nebula was a small rectangle of haze just at the limit of visibility. While dim, it was obvious the second I looked into the eyepiece. It still didn’t put my eye out when I replaced the el-cheapo ocular with a decent 6mm Orion Expanse (95x). I added an OIII filter, and, yeah, better (the OIII is the filter for most planetary nebulae). I even imagined I at least detected the streamers of gas that wrap around the central bar of M76.

I plan to move on from John Mallas and Scotty Houston to other observers as this series progresses but seeing as how I was observing with a 4-inch just like John M. (if one with a far less impressive pedigree than his big Unitron), I thought it would be appropriate to turn to The Messier Album once again.

I wondered how the Little Dumbbell looked in Mallas small-aperture scope… It looked good: “A rewarding object in Mallas’ 4-inch refractor. M76 is a miniature of the Dumbbell and is more closely described by this name than is M27 in Vulpecula when both are seen in a small telescope.” I agree the Little Dumbbell is a fascinating object in a 4-inch, but we differ on the appearance of the nebula. John mentions seeing two distinct lobes. I’ve noted this two-lobed nature in the past, in Tanya, however, the nebula was just a nebulous bar. It’s the same in the Evered Kreimer photo in the book, but Suzie’s shot does hint at the dual lobes.  

Suzie had zero trouble imaging the planetary, but I wasn’t satisfied with our results. While Astrospheric and Scope Nights had predicted clear weather for the entire night, Siri disagreed, intoning, “Clouds at mid-evening!” I thought my favorite AI girl was skipping a few gear teeth, but it turned out she was correct, as she usually is. I had less than 20 minutes on the nebula when a message popped up on the ZWO app: “Image discarded, not enough stars,” Rut-roh, I popped outside and looked up: Clouds, thick clouds, and plenty of ‘em. We got another chance the following night and accumulated 45 minutes of exposure.

Let’s face it, M76 is small for a 50mm f/5 smartscope. Nevertheless, Suze turned in a credible effort. After zooming-in via cropping the image (zooming is more practical using Suzie’s EQ mode, since you don’t have to worry as much about egg-shaped stars as you do in alt-az), the two streamers of gas are prominent, as is the nebula’s green OIII color, and even some tinges of red. Good show, girl!

Messier 34

The other Perseus M, open cluster M34 (NGC 1039), is probably a Giovanni Batista Hodierna find; he appears to have observed it from Sicily in 1654. If he did, nobody outside Sicily heard about it. What is known for sure is Charles Messier—who doesn’t seem to have known about Hodierna’s work—saw it, resolved it, and cataloged it a decade later: “A cluster of small stars, a little below the parallel γ Andromedae; in an ordinary telescope of three feet [focal length] the stars can be distinguished.”  M34 is bright at magnitude 5.8, but also spread-out at a size of 35.0’.

I gave Tanya a shot at M34, but no-go. With Christmas Eve approaching at a breakneck pace, the weathermen said the last chance I'd get to see the Spiral Cluster would be dicey at best. As darkness fell on a warm and humid evening, Tanya was dripping with dew after a mere half-hour outside. I could tell fog was creeping in and got on what I was pretty sure was the correct field post haste. Nada. Knowing I didn't have time to fool around, I dashed inside and retrieved the SkyWatcher 6-inch f/5 Dobsonian.

With a little extra aperture, M34 was visible in a 20mm Expanse (Synta-made) widefield ocular at 37x. Visible, yeah, but not what you'd call "rich." Nevertheless, I declared it a win on a night like this one. The brighter cluster stars were there, but dimmer members and the scads of background suns were absent. That lack of background stars actually made M34 stand out better. "Spiral cluster"? Maybe it's just me, but I scratch my head over that one. What I see is a medium-rich group dominated by star chains.  

John Mallas calls this “A very fine cluster,” but opines that this is an object for smaller apertures due to its large size. That is still somewhat true, but we now have richest field telescopes and widefield and ultra-widefield eyepieces. Today, this one is a standout in larger-than-4-inch scopes, too.

Suze did a fine job on this galactic cluster, but her image highlights the cluster’s “problem” in images and with larger aperture instruments under dark skies: It tends to melt into the rich background starfield.

Onward to Auriga we go. The three famous Auriga open clusters are a sentimental favorite of mine. I could occasionally coax my Old Man, W4SLJ, out of the house for a look through my Palomar Junior on long-lost 1960s nights. While he was mainly interested in seeing the Moon and planets, he did like M42, and, maybe even more, the Charioteer’s clusters. He referred to them as “The Big Three,” and always requested I point my little scope at them on winter nights. How I wish I could have shown SLJ these three wondrous star nests from the dark skies of the Deep South Star Gaze with my 10-inch telescope… Anyhow, we begin with the westernmost group.

Messier 38

Yep, yet another DSO not found by ol’ Chuck. M38 (NGC 1912) was first recorded by Hodierna on a chilly Italian evening around 1654. This cluster was forgotten or overlooked by the astronomers who followed him before being rediscovered by Guillaume LeGentil in 1749. Its specs clue you in that this is one good open cluster: magnitude 6.8 and 20.0’ across. Bright and big, but not too big.

This cluster, my second favorite among the Big Three, was a wonderful sight in Miss Zelda from the dark backwoods of Louisiana. M38 is nicknamed “The Starfish Cluster,” and it is easy to see why. While there are many dim background stars, your eyes are drawn to the chains and patterns formed by the cluster’s brightest suns. They seem to suggest yes, a starfish—or maybe an octopus or cosmic spider. The starfish effect is enhanced by the fact that the more prominent cluster stars are of similar brightness. Best view? In my old 16mm 100° “Happy Hand Grenade” ocular at 78x.

In John Mallas’ beautiful—if small-aperture—Unitron, his impression was “[S]quare-shaped with a clump of stars at each corner.” I can see that, yeah, the central region, the “body” of the starfish or spider, is squarish. I don’t see clumps of stars, though, I see chains. Neither of us is wrong. Looking at galactic clusters is like looking at clouds; you see what those shapes suggest to your mind. Overall, Mallas was impressed, “For small apertures, this is a beautiful cluster in a rich field.” With that, I agree, but the same goes with larger apertures with appropriate eyepieces.

In the ZWO smartscope, M38 looked much as it had to my eye in Louisiana. OK, OK, I’ll admit Suze saw more background field stars from the backyard than I did with a 10-inch from a dark site. There was a bonus, too, one I overlooked with the Dobsonian. At the edge of the frame is another open cluster, little (5.0’) magnitude 8.2 NGC 1907. Not only did I miss it in the eyepiece at Feliciana, I didn’t notice it in Suzie’s shot until the exposure was done. If I had, I’d have reframed the picture to show it better—or at least have turned off the ZWO’s watermark.

Messier 36

M36, NGC 1960, was first seen by Hodierna in 1654. He had no idea what it was, being unable to resolve its stars with his small instrument. It was merely another intriguing “nebulous patch,” which could be anything.  Following Hodierna, it was rediscovered and lost again time or two before being spotted by Messier in 1764 with his 3-foot telescope. Charles was the first observer to resolve the cluster. M36 is both smaller (10.0’) and brighter (magnitude 6.5) than neighboring M38.

This M-object is often called “The Pinwheel Cluster.” I’m not sure that’s what I saw with Zelda on those Louisiana nights, though. Oh, it was beautiful, but my impression was mostly of a rich splash of stars with a medium-dense center. It’s tight but doesn’t begin to look like a loose globular. Maybe 10-inches was too much aperture to give a pinwheel impression, resolving too many dim stars. Anyhoo, I liked it best in the 13mm Ethos (115x).

Mallas, thanks to his smaller aperture, had an easier time seeing an overall shape. However, he doesn’t seem to have seen a pinwheel either, “Outward streamers of faint stars gave a crab-like appearance.” He does note the same thing I did, the lovely color contrast among the cluster’s suns.

Not too much to say about the smartscope’s take on this one. M36 is without doubt the weakest of the three Auriga clusters. It looks good in Suzie’s shot, but pales alongside M37, of course.

Messier 37

The last of the Big Three, M37 (NGC 2099), is another one bagged by Hodierna (in 1654). It was promptly “lost” and rediscovered by Messier in September 1764. In our trio of beauties, M37 is the standout. At magnitude 6.2 and 14.0’ across it is both the brightest and richest of the Auriga clusters.

For Unk, there is no contest; M37 is the best, the richest, the most beautiful. In the 10-inch, it was a mind blower, looking more like a loose globular than a galactic. What I saw was a triangular core about 5.0’ in size surrounded by an outer halo of stars bright and dim, all looking tiny and marvelous. The cluster’s renowned red central star was more than obvious. My most memorable view of M37, however, was with my old C8, Celeste, one dark winter’s eve’ sixteen years ago at the Chiefland Astronomy Village:

This gorgeous open cluster in Auriga was just indescribable in the 13 Ethos. At times it looked almost like the south’s great globular cluster, Omega Centauri. At other times, it assumed weird shape and substance. One time I found myself seeing the central triangular area of the cluster as the head of a raging bull, M37’s red central star forming its baleful eye: the whole thing a miniature Taurus.

John’s opinion of M37 in The Messer Album mirrors my own: “This is one of the finest open clusters in the heavens.” Maybe I’d change that to “the finest.”  This group is often called the “Salt and Pepper Cluster,” but that doesn’t seem adequate. Maybe the old “diamond dust on black velvet” cliché is the best description of this wonder.

There’s nothing to complain about in Suzie’s picture of this great cluster. It’s just beautiful. It’s not a criticism to say it looks less like a loose globular than just a rich galactic cluster; that’s the difference between eyepiece impressions and looking at an image. When you study a photo of M37, it is obvious the group doesn’t come close in richness to even a loose glob like NGC 5053. I am very pleased with little Suzie’s image, though.

Cleanup on Aisle Cassiopeia!

I should have stopped by Messier 103 when I observed M52 at Deep South. Somehow I forgot about it, though, so I made my way over to this spectacular cluster once Zelda and I returned home.

Messier 103

M103, NGC 581, is another one discovered by Messier’s friend and fellow observer, Pierre Méchain, in 1781, and was added to the Messier list by the man himself. What’s special about this young, metal-rich cluster (Magnitude 6.9, 5.0’)? It was the last object added to the Messier catalog by Messier himself.

Yeah, I sure wish I’d turned the 10-inch to M103 during the star party, but I didn’t, so I'd have to see what a small reflector would do with the group from home. When Miss Dorothy and I moved out here a decade ago, my backyard skies were often impressive. Now, they have gone from the “suburban-country transition zone” to the “suburban” category.

I viewed M103 on the same night as M34, and it also got the 6-inch treatment. Despite haze that was rapidly thickening to fog, the cluster was immediately visible when we were on the field. However, the lovely arrowhead of stars that defines it was, well, small, real small. Tanya would have had a hard time here. In a 9mm Expanse (83x), the 6er gave a decent view. The Arrowhead even gave up a few of its dimmer suns. 

John really dug M103. How could he not? “A grand view! The stars form an arrowhead which is also seen in photographs. A 10x40 finder resolved the cluster, but the 4-inch showed the fainter stars, many of them colored.” Indeed, one of the most beautiful aspects of this group is the contrast between the cluster’s blue-white stars and one bright, orange luminary.

Open clusters are duck soup for the S50 smartscope from the suburbs, and Suzie’s image is a nice one. The only way I might improve upon it is to give M103 a longer exposure than the 10 minutes I allotted to it. The picture’s not bad, but there is a little more noise than I’d like.

Christmas Eve 2025 at Chaos Manor South

It is again time for ho-ho-ho and mistletoe and presents to pretty girls...