Some thoughts on the joy of amateur astronomy

Lately I've been chatting with my friend Tim about amateur astronomy & telescopes.  He has gotten bit by the bug, and has a young daughter who is starting to get interested in the stars.  It's really wonderful to see people (especially little people) get excited about a hobby like astronomy.  It's a little oddball, a little anoraky as my British friend Mark puts it, but discovering the universe can generate a WOW feeling that can last a lifetime.

The discovery process that happens at the light of an telescope eyepiece has change vastly since I started many, many moons ago (about 25 years now).  Tim asked me about this scope and that scope, showing me some of the latest models that are internet ready, GPS-enabled, computer driven, and the like. WHOA WHOA WHOA! These scopes have come a LONG way. They are incredibly easy to use and make finding objects as easy as pushing a few buttons.  Which got me thinking about my astronomical experiences…

It's a chilly late autumn night, the sky is bright with stars and crystal clear, long since the haze of summer. I'm bundled up with a winter jacket; it's always colder than you think sitting still outside at night.  I've got my red-filtered flashlight in hand and star charts laid out, or maybe even a Burnham's Celestial Handbook for a really detailed sky map.  Tonight I'm going to find a galaxy that I've never seen before.

I'm plotting my hunt: "Ok, I find that star, then hop to the star just to the left that's a little dimmer." I go to my scope and get the first bright star centered, then hop right over to the next.  That was easy.  Go back to the star chart… it looks about 1 field of view above that star, then 1 field of view over to the right… then maybe just a little bit below that. 

Back to the scope. Still have that 2nd finder star in the field of view, great. Ok, I move the scope up a bit.  Then over to the right, according to plan. Should be right there…just scan a little around that area…and a-ha! Nothing. Deep, black space. Crap.  Time to start over.  Back to the bright finder stars.  Give it another try.  And a third try… Better check that star chart again…

Ok this is a little frustrating…but patience is a virtue, right Mom? Maybe I'll try again in a few minutes, so I'll just move the scope around a little, scanning the area to see–whoaaaaa what is this?  That's got to be something, it has to be named something–it's a star cluster!  Thousands of stars together in one big mass.  Thousands of suns, possibly hundreds of planets, who knows.  What is this thing called?  Back to the star charts…what constellation am I in now…

And that's the way a night goes as an amateur astronomer. Some nights are throwaways, but some nights are pure gems…even if you didn't get to see what you planned, you may find something else just as amazing.  It's a process to be enjoyed, consulting star charts, learning constellations, figuring out how to star-hop to faint objects…all with a dose of frustration and a dollop of amazement.

Which leads me back to the telescopes my friend Tim and I talked about.  They are definitely whiz-bang cool, and you can rattle off the Messier objects in quick fashion with few of the mistakes I described in my night out under the stars.  But is it worth it? By leaving all the details, calculations, and estimations to technology, you miss out on the real essence of amateur astronomy. The thrill of the hunt, as they say.  Anyone can google pictures of a Messier object that are far better than anything you would see in an amateur scope, which is basically what you're doing with a "point-and-shoot" computerized scope–leaving the hunt to someone else and being presented with the results.

For someone who has never seen a galaxy or a nebula, or even the rings of Saturn, I definitely know the appeal, there will surely be a "wow" factor in seeing the real thing. Over time though, celestial objects don't tend to change–there is truth to the term "galactically slow" after all–and seeing the same thing becomes old hat. Which could lead a once-interested amateur to give up and move on to another hobby.

So I suggest turning off all those computerized finders and just enjoy the process. Find a telescope and explore, don't let it take you somewhere. Don't be so concerned about bagging 10 Messier objects (let alone all 127) in a night, instead enjoy the time spent learning where things are, which constellation is which, how to sight with your telescope, and on and on. It's relaxing, even rehabilitating, and you'll have so much to learn and see that you'll have years and years of enjoyment, frustration, and amazement in front of you.

Tags: Astronomy