I want a warmer hobby...
We went out for a walk this afternoon...myself, Jojo, my old man and his missus. The day had started cloudy...then cleared to blue sky and a plummeting temperature...
So off we trotted...and up the cloud bubbled. Was still bloody freezing though. We saw a few deer, which was nice, and generally had a lovely time. Sunset was amazing, on the freakin' clouds.
We came home, got some dinner in us, then, as I sat at the kitchen table I glanced out the window and there's the freakin' moon, low and fat and BRIGHT.
The cry went up: "Clear sky, clear sky!" And it was action stations...find many layers of clothing, grab phone (meant to bring digi camera...forgot...LAME. I remembered as we left Brighton, but never mind).
So, torch out, dressed up with scarves and hats off me and the old man went. (Except he knows the garden like the back of his hand...so doesn't turn the torch on. I just flail about in the pitch black, following the sound of his footsteps.)
Ladder in place, hatch open, we climb to the dome...fan heater off (can't have a heater ruining the air flow and risking condensation on the lens).
Aperture open, following a strict sequence of events to the weighted pulleys pull the lid and roll it down the other side of the dome...then 'Jack up!' (snigger a bit, and work the hydraulics to lift the dome high enough to fit the wheels) Fit the wheels and axles in place...then 'Jack Off' (much sniggering, the same conversation we have every time.."We must find a better way of saying that...") we release the hydraulics.
Telescope on, warming up, searching for GPS. We peer out into the darkness...the moon is rapidly sinkng behind the hedge...
We give up on the GPS locks, we manually set the 'scope to look at the moon.
Now, you have to bear in mind many things...the moon was very low (meaning we're looking through a LOT of our atmosphere) It's not THAT cold, the night was hazy...and I took it on my mobile phone, which won't focus properly when stuffed into a telescope eye piece XD
But despite all that, not too shonky.
Obviously you're not seeing the whole moon here. You're seeing the 'disc' of the moon we focussed on, so the circular look is the shape of the eyepiece, not the shape of the moon (As you know if you saw the moon - it's well under a half at the mo) So this is a tiny 'disc' of the moon. Oh, and I didn't have the moon filter on either...oops!
Then it went right behind a fir tree. Bleh. So we decide to try to set the scope properly...for some reason, despite us aligning it on two stars and doing everything right...it wouldn't hold a lock. I ask the old man if he'd like a chocolate (had the foresight to bring supplies) He would. He refuses to let go of the remote for the 'scope...despite all it doing is telling us it won't lock...so I have to unwrap some chocolate and put it in his mouth for him. Yes, he is only holding a remote, no, I don't know a. why he's holding it. b. why he needs TWO HANDS to do so. I tease him about being elderly and needing to be fed by his nurse.
So we give in and set it all again. FINALLY we have the programme up and running.
So we take a squint at Saturn (also very low...a bit hazy, and the rings are currently only between 1 and 5 degrees from being completely 'flat'...we argue over whether they are currently 1 or 5 degrees. No one wins.) It is impressive, we see rings. We argue over whether needing glasses normally means that if you are not wearing them whilst focussing the 'scope you will always focus it incorrectly for someone with perfect vision. I win.
We look at Pleiades (shiny). We look at the Great Orion Nebula (green and gassy). We look for the Crab nebula and decide it's impossible to see. We have ridiculous panics as we look for stars which we don't know the exact location of and therefore have to scramble for the star map as the scope begins moving...We grope around in the darkness...I discover the Old Man's ear feels quite a lot like the rubber eyepiece on the telescope (but manage to work out it isn't before glueing my eye to it)
We have the age old arguments inherent in rotating the dome 'Are we standing still and pushing the dome, or are we walking the dome around?' I always walk it...Old Man always SAYS he'll walk it, then stands still and pushes...meaning I catch up with him. Then we argue over the complete pointlessness of me saying 'Which way round?' - meaning clock or anti-clock...and him saying 'towards me'...when we're standing on opposite sides of a circle.
Then we both decide it's so bloody freezing we have to give up and go in. We do everything in reverse to park the 'scope and the dome in their correct positions, and lock them down.
When we leave the observatory the grass is completely solid underfoot, crunching and cracking underfoot, the frost is so hard. Old Man says 'Ahh! We shouldn't walk on the grass!'. I point out there is no way to reach the house without walking on it. So we run on tip-toe instead.
Basically, most of the time observing heavenly bodies is spent insulting and mocking each other whilst slowly losing all feeling in your body. It's a bloody grand life.
So off we trotted...and up the cloud bubbled. Was still bloody freezing though. We saw a few deer, which was nice, and generally had a lovely time. Sunset was amazing, on the freakin' clouds.
We came home, got some dinner in us, then, as I sat at the kitchen table I glanced out the window and there's the freakin' moon, low and fat and BRIGHT.
The cry went up: "Clear sky, clear sky!" And it was action stations...find many layers of clothing, grab phone (meant to bring digi camera...forgot...LAME. I remembered as we left Brighton, but never mind).
So, torch out, dressed up with scarves and hats off me and the old man went. (Except he knows the garden like the back of his hand...so doesn't turn the torch on. I just flail about in the pitch black, following the sound of his footsteps.)
Ladder in place, hatch open, we climb to the dome...fan heater off (can't have a heater ruining the air flow and risking condensation on the lens).
Aperture open, following a strict sequence of events to the weighted pulleys pull the lid and roll it down the other side of the dome...then 'Jack up!' (snigger a bit, and work the hydraulics to lift the dome high enough to fit the wheels) Fit the wheels and axles in place...then 'Jack Off' (much sniggering, the same conversation we have every time.."We must find a better way of saying that...") we release the hydraulics.
Telescope on, warming up, searching for GPS. We peer out into the darkness...the moon is rapidly sinkng behind the hedge...
We give up on the GPS locks, we manually set the 'scope to look at the moon.
Now, you have to bear in mind many things...the moon was very low (meaning we're looking through a LOT of our atmosphere) It's not THAT cold, the night was hazy...and I took it on my mobile phone, which won't focus properly when stuffed into a telescope eye piece XD
But despite all that, not too shonky.
Obviously you're not seeing the whole moon here. You're seeing the 'disc' of the moon we focussed on, so the circular look is the shape of the eyepiece, not the shape of the moon (As you know if you saw the moon - it's well under a half at the mo) So this is a tiny 'disc' of the moon. Oh, and I didn't have the moon filter on either...oops!
Then it went right behind a fir tree. Bleh. So we decide to try to set the scope properly...for some reason, despite us aligning it on two stars and doing everything right...it wouldn't hold a lock. I ask the old man if he'd like a chocolate (had the foresight to bring supplies) He would. He refuses to let go of the remote for the 'scope...despite all it doing is telling us it won't lock...so I have to unwrap some chocolate and put it in his mouth for him. Yes, he is only holding a remote, no, I don't know a. why he's holding it. b. why he needs TWO HANDS to do so. I tease him about being elderly and needing to be fed by his nurse.
So we give in and set it all again. FINALLY we have the programme up and running.
So we take a squint at Saturn (also very low...a bit hazy, and the rings are currently only between 1 and 5 degrees from being completely 'flat'...we argue over whether they are currently 1 or 5 degrees. No one wins.) It is impressive, we see rings. We argue over whether needing glasses normally means that if you are not wearing them whilst focussing the 'scope you will always focus it incorrectly for someone with perfect vision. I win.
We look at Pleiades (shiny). We look at the Great Orion Nebula (green and gassy). We look for the Crab nebula and decide it's impossible to see. We have ridiculous panics as we look for stars which we don't know the exact location of and therefore have to scramble for the star map as the scope begins moving...We grope around in the darkness...I discover the Old Man's ear feels quite a lot like the rubber eyepiece on the telescope (but manage to work out it isn't before glueing my eye to it)
We have the age old arguments inherent in rotating the dome 'Are we standing still and pushing the dome, or are we walking the dome around?' I always walk it...Old Man always SAYS he'll walk it, then stands still and pushes...meaning I catch up with him. Then we argue over the complete pointlessness of me saying 'Which way round?' - meaning clock or anti-clock...and him saying 'towards me'...when we're standing on opposite sides of a circle.
Then we both decide it's so bloody freezing we have to give up and go in. We do everything in reverse to park the 'scope and the dome in their correct positions, and lock them down.
When we leave the observatory the grass is completely solid underfoot, crunching and cracking underfoot, the frost is so hard. Old Man says 'Ahh! We shouldn't walk on the grass!'. I point out there is no way to reach the house without walking on it. So we run on tip-toe instead.
Basically, most of the time observing heavenly bodies is spent insulting and mocking each other whilst slowly losing all feeling in your body. It's a bloody grand life.