How has your observing changed over time?
I have shamelessly stolen this idea for a thread from Cloudy Nights, simply because I think it's a great subject for discussion. CN user JayInUT started a thread asking how people have changed, as deep sky observers, over time.
Here is my input:
Like everyone else, I suppose, I began with the planets and Moon before becoming interested in deep sky observing in 1993 and I'm now purely a deep sky observer.
I began with a 60mm birder's spotting scope, before getting a simple 6" homemade Dobsonian and I've also owned 8", 12" and 18" (my current scope) telescopes over the last 20 years.
It used to be that I would just take my charts to my observing site and hop around a bit, from object to object. This wasn't very productive and, nowadays, I have observing programs and stick to them which is much more effective and I am currently working my way through the Herschel 2500, constellation by constellation, although I do sometimes get distracted by trying to find dim little UGCs and MACs in the vicinity of bright NGC galaxies, with varying levels of success (in the case of MACs very little!)! I also make more notes and sketches than I did which helps improve my observing, rather than boring, unadorned lists I made when I was a novice observer. I still try and get as many objects in as possible over the course of a session but not at the expense of quality, i.e. I want to have a good look at objects and take notes rather than just 'hit and run'. I also try and write something down about each and every object, but when you're confronted by similar-looking dim little ovals it's hard to write something different on them - if I come away from a session with few or no notes or sketches then I feel it is a session wasted. Unless I am doing a sketch of a bright and detailed object, or a cluster of galaxies, I don't spend vast amounts of time on one object, usually around 2 to 5 minutes.
I like all deep sky objects but I am primarily a galaxy observer with globular clusters and planetary nebulae competing for my second favourite class of object.
I am not into outreach. If it's a good clear Moonless night, I would far rather be doing my own observing than showing bright objects to the public (that's not to say that I don't like the odd session of outreach, once a month or so, when the Moon is around, down at our society's observatory showing a few things to interested visitors - apart from anything else, it is sometimes nice to have your ego massaged by public visitors impressed at your star-hopping skills! ;) ).
I don't use GoTo, as my scope is a Dobsonian and I haven't really got the funds or the inclination to fit it with digital setting circles, especially as I have spent 20 years star hopping with the result that, 99 times out of 100, I can find stuff reasonably quickly and easily that way. Years ago, though, I wished I had a GoTo system as I could never find anything and it was frustrating, but that was no bad thing because I got used to it and proficient at it; the result is that I believe I know the sky better than those who have only ever used a GoTo system. I would like a tracking platform, though, to make the use of high magnifications easier.
What about everyone else? :)
Both better and tougher with age
Quote:
Originally Posted by
FaithJ
I have shamelessly stolen this idea for a thread from Cloudy Nights, simply because I think it's a great subject for discussion. CN user JayInUT started a thread asking how people have changed, as deep sky observers, over time.
My observing habits have changed drastically as a result of aging. As a cautionary tale, understand that many things you take for granted today will degrade, or disappear altogether. Remaining engaged becomes a matter of working around these losses. Not surprisingly, the most discouraging is steady loss is visual acuity. This starts in one's 40s as the inconvenience of presbyopia makes it a challenge to switch between near a far. I remember first working around this by using magnifying glasses to read things in the dim red light. Count on needing separate reading glasses and star hopping slowing down considerably as you move between looking at charts and at the skies.
In fact, thank heavens for digital setting circles! Not as a crutch for laziness, but as a critical tool to simply locate objects—especially the tough ones in those relatively blank areas of the sky. I did my time star hopping, a skill I was proud of, so I feel only a little shame in turning to them out of necessity. Floaters and the early stages of cataracts makes it impossible to even see the less bright stars. Finding the Sombrero Galaxy, something I could quickly point to in past years, would be an exercise in extreme patience. Indeed, hallelujah for 10K encoders! Also, you learn to hang on to anything else that helps: more aperture, better eyepieces, and don't forget the observing hood!
Age improves the vintage of the best and brightest objects, and heightens the accomplishment of tracking down the really obscure ones. I look at fewer objects in an evening, and I enjoy them more. There really is no limit in how many times I can look at, say, M104. Seeing it many times over the years through different combinations of optics and under different viewing conditions gives perspective. Every once in a while I see an object better than I can remember ever seeing it before: that is a grand moment. Getting a glimpse of one obscure Hickson group can give meaning the the entire session. A really good night is a combination of old favorites and fresh challenges.
I used to jealously guard observing time for myself. Sharing the eyepiece with others only slowed me down. Now I find sharing improves my odds of tracking down the challenges. Setting aside a little time sharing with newbies is almost a duty, one that occasionally allows me to re-exerience some of the early wonder I remember. Observing has become more of a social experience. I'm more interested in quality over quantity. If I can go to bed with one really good obscure faint fuzzy, I'm a happy observer.
One big advantage of being a "seasoned" observer is that we generally know what to look for and how to look for (or at) it. Our visual acuity may be shot to hell, but we are now cunning. And patient! Despite the challenges, I think I'm a better observer and definitely one who appreciates the moments better.
Kemer