Ad Astra Observatory

I used to be good at this.
Omg, gaggle of geese flying over. Local dogs wigging out.

But, I digress.

I got Really good at planetary, but had higher hopes, and this led to a continuing journey with deep sky photography. Trixie and I will paint these walls together, degree by degree.

Again, I fear, I digress.

The sky is big. Like. Real big and stuff.

Seeing the sky through any telescope is a delicate technique. You align your optics, you learn with the moon to focus and magnification. But it’s all by hand, you see. You hug the newt to point her at your target. The moon. A planet. A bright star, oh hello Debbie, how are you, just checking my finder is centered, no need for alarm. Ahem. You get the idea.

And focus. Sweet focus, the first time that favorite target snaps into clarity. The tiny moves of the focus knob. Just… That… Right… Spot. And the seeing, boiling away — I have a fondness for the atmosphere, but at times, I could wish for it to be more still. A mere simmer, perhaps, and not the stars waving like flags on a flagpole?

Anyway, it’s tricky.

Cassandra the Cassegrain, known to her friends as, simply, Cassie, is a bit temperamental. The method of focusing a commercial Schmidt-Cassegrain Reflector, is to move the primary mirror towards and away from the secondary, using a screw-driven mechanism. Like a big washer, riding on top of a hex nut. It’s .. pretty stable .. but let’s say the mirror wobbles a little as you move it around. I have a fairly steady hand, as you turn the knob, the star (or &c) moves, a *lot*. Sometimes you have to move the mount a little to re-center. It’s a thing.

Ohh, and because Cassie has a steel tube, it shrinks slightly during the night, as she cools under the clear dark sky, which is essentially open to deep space — use an IR thermometer (great for campfires), and point at the bottom of a cloud. Now point at the clear blue sky. Now at something the same temperature as the air, maybe a tree or a big rock or …? anyway. I’ll let you do that science yourself, because, and I beg your pardon, but again. I digress.

The tube shrinks, so you have to refocus once in awhile, always ‘in’ a bit, to compensate for the cooling temperature (translates to some tiny amount, which I overshoot several times before saying “yep, looks good to me”) and then letting the scope settle for the shot.

I found that if I closed the hatch (can we agree that the door between “us” and “space” is called Shutter, and the one between “bridge” and “observing deck” Hatch?), I couldn’t see as much wobble, from the space heater in the bridge. That steadied the skies considerably. It gave Cassie and I some time to get to know one another, watching the stars somewhere under Leo’s hindquarters. 😐 It’s wicked uncomfortable up there right now.

So there I was, just me and a telescope and a mount, playing the focus knob and getting it just right. This has been a good run, getting everything working really well. How long has it been since I just sat next to the scope, turned the focus knob, and looked out at the sky? It was magical. I had a lot of fun, and I got to know quite a few things about my still-kind-of-new scope.

It was quite pleasant. I think I like these optics a lot.

Leo was looking really pretty. This was where I found Jupiter for the first time, near Regulus in Leo. Ah, nostalgia.

So, Cassie needs a new focuser. I will get everyone ship-shape and Bristol fashion at some point, but it was fun to just be at the eyepiece (ok, so it was a computer screen) for an evening. And we’ve all done a little victory lap.

Now, you, dome automation. Come here, and tell me.. Which way is the Shutter pointing? 😐 Turtle is not angry with you, HD-10. Just disappointed.