When
you walk outdoors on any clear night and gaze upwards, you may see
2-3 thousand stars, if you're away from interfering city lights.
Every single star you spot resides in our Milky Way Galaxy. There are
a few hundred billion stars out there in our home galaxy, though
you'll see, naked eye, at most a couple of thousand. Get yourself a
pretty decent telescope and you'll maybe see a few tens of thousands
of Milky Way stars, but that's still just a very small fraction of
the total.
There's
another quite different kind of astronomical object than stars in our
home galaxy to look for: Andromeda Galaxy. It's much farther away
than any star within our galaxy, but it can still be observed,
because it's so huge. Due to its distance, however, we can't
distinguish with the naked eye any of Andromeda's individual stars.
All we see is a milky smudge.
The
other night my neighbor came by for a two-person star party. He
brought the beer, I set up my telescope, and we set out to view the
heavens. As our solar system planets are currently not visible
overhead in this November's night sky, Andromeda was our best
celestial object for the evening, so we set up to view it.
Andromeda
is not an easy thing to locate... at least for me. That's why I
bought a very nice telescope a couple of decades ago. It comes with a
small but amazingly capable computer that both steers the telescope
to celestial objects and then locks onto them, following them across
the night sky, as the Earth rotates. It's a wonderful little tool;
align the scope to the North Star and another prominent star, and
you've calibrated it for the night. Now all you do is type in the
name of one of several thousand celestial delights in the tiny device
and the scope will slew itself around, to stop and aim itself at the
object you chose.
Unfortunately,
the problem for an old analog guy like me, when trying to operate one
of these digital wonders, is that I can't always understand the
instructions. The directions confuse me and my thumbs are just a
little too slow and clumsy, and I screw it up. I know if I had a
12-year-old computer nerd with me, he'd have the whole thing nailed
in five minutes.
Unable
to perform the alignment procedure accurately enough to have the
little computer locate any celestial choice of mine, I must do it
manually. So when my neighbor arrived he and I partnered, in an
analog attempt to find Andromeda. I had been successful a couple of
nights earlier (after an hour or so of effort) so I knew it could be
done.
Despite
our diligent attempts, we failed. I thought at one point that we were
zeroing in, but alas, we saw no Andromeda. No big smudge; just more
stars. Maybe the beers were impeding our astronomical skills.
Whatever the limitation, Andromeda was not to be found that night.
What
we did discover, however, was a phenomenon that every night sky
observer comes upon, if you spend more than 15 minutes looking up on
a clear, dark night: there are so many other things to see. Over the
next couple of hours we gazed at the Pleiades, the Hyades, and then
we dove into the core of our Milky Way Galaxy, where you can see so
many stars that they blend into, well, a milky trail across the sky.
The only thing that terminated our evening was the November chill
penetrating into our bones, and opening the last two beers.
