Witt’s End

It's Not About Stories People Tell, It's About …

Last night was (relatively) quiet here at the Witt observatory (aka our driveway). A few coyotes up the road singing Meat Me In Saint Louis, a cameo appearance by Fred who seemed to be on task to get to the back deck, and a surprising number of meteorites still around from last week’s big shower. I opted to look into the Sagittarius region of the galaxy even though it’s low in the sky, it’s loaded with great targets that I can barely see above the trees.

First of two I’ve never looked at was the Small Sagittarius Cloud, M24. Small is a relative term in astronomy. This baby is 600 lightyears wide and proved to be beyond the width range of my scope. It consists of millions of stars ranging from 10,000 to 16,000 lightyears away. I got about half of it and will try for the full image when conditions are better. Easy to understand why it’s called a star cloud.

The other gem in the Sagittarius region is the Sagittarius Cluster, M22. Small by comparison with only 500,000 stars, however, they’re clustered into a nice tight package. This elliptical cluster, one of about 150 in the Milky Way, is considered to be one of the brighter of the bunch. This is a stack of 159 images. Can’t wait to get more than 27 minutes on this target. Dew was an issue last night. You’d think I’d remember to turn on the dew heater …

Well, last night, down in the CVNP, was a yet another strange night. It was dusk as I was setting up. I was surrounded by bats! Both Large and Small Brown bats, seining the air, eating all those yummy mosquitoes. Made me happy. And I was not worried about them getting stuck in my hair. Speaking of the air, it was the kind you can wear. I could see dew forming on my car and felt it on the camera before It was dark. Having learned from dew-induced  mistakes of the past, I was well prepared to make those same mistakes again.

My primary target last night was the Tulip Nebula. It sits about 8,000 light years out there. You probably know it by its more popular name, SH2-101, or Sharpless 101. It’s an emission nebula located in the constellation Cygnus. It’s a whole lotta interstellar gas and dust. I set the Seestar scope to task and went about my challenge of imaging the Milky Way with my Nikon gear. Here’s the Tulip. This is about an hour’s worth of saved images, stacked in the Seestar’s system, with a bit of post processing in LightRoom Classic. Can’t say that I see a tulip there—however, I do see plenty of stars. (Those little blue streaks on the left side are heat-induced artifacts that the Seestar gurus are trying to eliminate in the software. Not to worry.)

As for the Milky Way and the 99% humidity. I’ll spare you the drama and say the Milky Way does not exist in Northeast Ohio and I’m never going to waste my time and energy trying to image it. I’ll get some pix when I head to Maine in a couple weeks. Meanwhile, here’s what it looks like when humidity creeps onto your lens while you’re not paying attention. Let’s call it art and move on …

There’s something about astro photography that’s frustrating—everything. Take last night for example. I had all good intentions for getting the Milky Way arched over a favorite tree in the Cuyahoga Valley National Park. I take lots of images of this tree, but never with the Milky Way in the shot. Last night sky conditions were about as good as it gets here in northeast Ohio. I’ll skip the part of the story where the three dudes approached me (at 10pm in total darkness), armed with a mirrorless point-and-shoot camera, saying they were heading back into the woods to get some pictures of owls. Could I give them some tips on how to do it? (These guys were straight out of the movie, Listers, cast.) I really didn’t want to disappoint them since they were all bigger than me. (In the background did I hear banjo music?) I gave them my top-10 astro photo tips for finding owls in the dark. Really?

So, trying not to laugh, I got them on their way and concentrated on the task at hand. My first target with the SeeStar scope was going nowhere so I switched over to the Pinwheel Galaxy, aka M 101. For whatever heavenly reason, the SeeStar was collecting more rejects than good images and I ended with 105 rejects and 102 keepers. Bundled up the images looks like this:

For the primary target, the Milky Way, I finished with more strangeness. I did not realize that as the night progressed and the sky darkened, the “light dome” of the city of Akron would ruin the shot. Grrrrr. This is what 19 images stacked up looks like. If you squint a little and look to the right of the tree, you can see something that resembles the Milky Way. That’s about as good as it gets in northeast Ohio.

{“SLSFrameType”:”Composite”,”Description”:”Made from 19 light frames. Algorithm: Max Horizon Accuracy”}

So, for the fun of it, and because I haven’t made any star trails lately, I pointed the camera south (you’re supposed to point the camera north, Clyde) and let it run off 306 images that I had to stack this morning. Yawnnnn.

And here’s yer bonus image of the night. Ever wonder what it looks like when a lightning bug lands in the middle of a 14mm lens—and blinks? Here it is:

Well, last night’s session from Clyde’s Observatory was a toss up. The trees put up a good fight, however, I persevered and salvaged one image, M8, aka, the Lagoon Nebula. Stunning, however, almost always too low in the sky for me to see. Last night, I made a guess, if I aimed between a couple trees, I might just get an image. For the most part I was right. Had to toss out about half of the 150 shots to great this stack. (Image made with SeeStar S30 scope, post processing in LightRoom Classic.)

M8 is a giant emission nebula, which means it is a star-forming cloud of interstellar gas. It’s 5200 light years from my driveway, but still visible, naked eye, on a really clear night. What’s really cool about this nebula is that it has its own star cluster (just left of center so it must be a Democrat) that gives off enormous amounts of ultraviolet radiation which ionizes the gas, causing it to shine. (This will no doubt be on the final, so pay attention.)

The target I was really after was the comet 10P/Tempel 2 which was close to Earth last night. The trees won that battle. It was really low in the sky, however, I thought, just maybe … The thing that really killed the shot was the damned street light at the end of my street. Had to shoot right into it. Even I know ya can’t do that. If the comet is still around tonight, weather permitting, I’ll give it another shot from a different location.

Stay tuned,

If you think all stars look alike (like skunks, for example), stay tuned. Speaking of skunks, last night’s encounter was a bit too close. I was working with one of my scopes, minding my own business, when Petunia, lady friend of Fred, walked within 12 inches of me, destined to get into the garage. Well, the profanity I used was not something you’d want your grandchildren (or Republicans) to hear. She looked at me and scampered back into the safety of Susan’s flower garden.

But let’s talk about stars—not just yet. The Crescent Nebula has just moved into my line of sight so I gave it a shot—not too accurately. It’s a great target that I’ll have to work on when conditions are better. Consider this a trailer (not to be confused with a preview). It’s an emission nebula, about 5,000 light years out, formed (primarily) by fast-moving solar wind colliding with slower moving wind ejected by the red giant star, Wolf-Rayet. The result of the collision is a shell and two shock waves—one moving out, the other moving in. Cool. (Pay attention ‘cause this will definitely be on the final exam.) (75 images stacked and processed in SeeStar 30)

My primary target, and the reason I hauled out the big scope last night, was to image the beautiful star, Albireo (in the constellation of Cygnus if you’re looking). It’s listed as a double star, but here’s a pro tip—it’s really a quadruple! Cool.  Albireo A (the gold one) is about 400 light years distant, as is Albireo B, the blue one. However, they are both binary systems, visually bound, not gravitationally bound. It takes about 120 years for the stars to orbit one another. Scientists are studying these stars and think that there might be three or four more stars involved that we just cannot see. For now, seeing this gold and azure combo shining out there (through a scope—not naked-eye visible from here) is a real treat. (11 images stacked, made with Celestron Evolution 8 and Nikon D850)

Those of us, of a certain age, can tell you exactly where we were on this day 57 years ago. Some were having babies, others worried about whether they were going to find a meaningful career. I asked my grandfather if, when he was growing up, did he think he’d ever see men walk on the moon. He turned and gave me that grandfatherly look and said, “I didn’t think I’d ever see men fly.” Oh, right.

So here’s that same moon from 57 years ago—well, not the photo. That’s from our hazy sky.

And if you need something to think about, I read this morning about a huge ring-shaped sunspot that popped up over night. It’s 100,000 kilometers across—big enough to swallow 7 planet Earths. Scientists think (science is not a liberal conspiracy, by the way) that this emerging active region has an unusually twisted magnetic field that could produce Earth-directed solar flares this week. Had to get out and take a picture this afternoon, just in case …