Stupid Things to do While Imaging

This is designed as a light-hearted romp through the wilderness of bad practices when imaging (or doing astronomy in general).  The sad part is, that at one point or another, I have been guilty of every one of them and sometimes a number of them at once.  The sadder news is that any one of these can (and often have) ruined a perfectly good observing/imaging opportunity.  In my case, since in Houston I traveled 90 minutes and in Dubai travel 4 and 1/2 hours to get to my dark sky site, ruining a session is a real downer.  But take heart.  Except where noted, little more is lost under each of these foibles than your precious time and injury to your pride.  So read on and please try to learn from my many mistakes.

 

You’re a bright, intelligent person (and good looking to boot).  Probably went to college, maybe even have a post-graduate degree.  Have a real day job where people actually take you seriously.  What could the guys who designed the product, wrote the software code, and built the equipment, possibly have to teach you.  Feel free to wing it and always, always wait until you’re in the field to try things out. 

Well-made equipment is difficult to break (believe me, I’ve tried) so you are hard pressed to really mess something up by stubbornly maintaining ignorance.  But it can sure spoil a night.  I’ll cite a perfect example.  Several months ago I upgraded to a new Paramount MX.  When it arrived in Dubai I couldn’t wait to get it out in the field (and besides, those instructions are so lengthy).  I did at least take the time to read how to unpack the mount (Software Bisque, in their infinite good sense, makes it damned near impossible to ignore the bold and frightening warnings about possible crushed and severed fingers; and given how solid the mount is, I don’t doubt it for a minute).  But who really needs to read all the other text.  So off I went, 4.5 hours into Oman and up to my perch on Jebel Shams.  Hooked everything up, turned on the mount, and got repeated errors that the mount was not recognized.  Seems I overlooked the minor matter of loading the drivers.  So I packed up and drove 4.5 hours back home.  Even then I didn’t bother to read the manual, but shot off a note to Software Bisque (one of my dream jobs is to be the guy that gets to open the emails from dopes like me.  It must be a hoot).  They ever so politely pointed me to Appendix A of the manual where, large as life, they describe the whole process in idiot proof detail (unless, of course, you are too stupid to read it).

 

Just cause you spent a small fortune on the stuff, no need to handle it with care.  Besides, you’re still a nimble fellow (or at least you were 20 years ago) so you’ll react like a cat if anything starts to tumble.  Dark, schmark.

Ok, here’s one that can hurt so if you ignore everything else in this article, please, please learn from me here.  There is a curious thing about astronomy; you tend to do it in the dark (though I would love to hear from solar observers to see it their experiences are all that much better).  Of course, that has not stopped me from dropping things at home too.  So far I have dropped (all from sizable heights onto various hard surfaces (concrete pads, tiled floors, packed dirt)) my Televue NP101is (slipped out of my hand when I was trying to balance on an older mount; near heart attack, but came away with only scratches); My SBIG STF8300 system (CCD, OAG, Filterwheel) not once, but twice (the second time at home just last week after just getting it back from repairs on a wonky filterwheel – note that went out without me dropping it); and my computer (last week in the same incident with the 8300; don’t ask, you don’t want to know).  Since I don’t seem to be able to learn myself, all I can tell you is SLOW DOWN.  Take the time and care you would if you were holding your baby (I’ve dropped those too, but don’t tell my wife). 

 

Take a second and go look at the picture of my Current Imaging System.  Go on, I’ll wait. . . . Welcome back.  Did you happen to notice something.   If you look closely, there sure seem to be a lot of cords running around.  I run my system using a nifty little Honda 2000 generator which, though sold here in Dubai, has two US plug ports.  I run two heavy duty extension cords from the generator and at the end of each I have added a three prong extension.  Between my computer, the CCD, the mount, the OTA focuser and heater, and my Flatman XL (for my flat fields), I use all six.  Add to that various USB cords (I am sure I am forgetting something somewhere; oh yeah), guiders cables, hand controller cords, and the like, and you end up with just a bit of stuff laying on the ground, all of which is attached to an imaging system I have spent a lot of time and treasure accumulating.  And, did I mention it’s dark?  Here is one area where I do take some extra care because if you don’t you will quickly end up with a dangerous tangle of spaghetti that loves nothing more than to snag on to something, anything.  Feet are always a concern, but don’t forget the tendency of cords up around the OTA to wrap themselves in knots and lock up the mount at the most inopportune times.  I have a designated “NO GO ZONE” that runs from my computer table to the mount.  No cutting through that gap under any circumstances, even if it means taking the time to walk around the mount.  And when the mount is slewing, I always get to my feet and make sure the cords don’t find a way to cause mischief.  (Actually, I don’t think  the equipment is really out to get me, but a healthy dose of paranoia never hurts).          

 

“Who needs a jacket, it’s at least 50 degrees outside” (Fall/Winter/Spring).

Anybody who has spent a night under the stars in 50 degree weather knows how quickly your teeth start chattering, even when you are properly bundled up.  And when it drops into the 40’s and below, expect to spend a pretty miserable night unless you are prepared clothes wise.  50 sounds plenty warm when you are taking a brisk walk or are pretty much doing any physical activity in the day time.  Problem is, when the CCD is busy taking a 4 hour sequence of exposures, you aren’t doing a whole lot.  And we got that whole dark thing happening again.  So dress the part.  Lots of layers you can put on and peal off.  Remember that your feet and your head are part of your body too, and so are your legs and arms.  They all suffer unless you dress properly.  And the best part, it’s dark so nobody can see you (even the other guys with their red flashlights are unlikely to comment, since they are dressed the same way).  Warm and stupid looking beats fashionable and freezing every time.  Some of my favorite gear includes the Yukon hat, complete with earflaps, my daughter in Toronto got me for Christmas (yes, I even wear it in Oman; it gets chilly on the mountain at night).  Another is a pair of gloves with the fingers cut out, but with a mitten flap to cover the digits when I’m not typing).  I may look like an idiot, but I’m nice and toasty (a thermos of hot chocolate or the like doesn’t hurt any either). When I lived in Norway I learned some local wisdom our first winter: "There is no such thing as bad weather, just bad clothing." Great advice, just make sure you follow it or you will suffer the consequences and severely reduce the pleasures that the night sky has to offer.

“Mosquitos? What Mosquitos?” (Summer).

Unless you enjoy wearing a hair shirt or keep fleas as pets on your person, do yourself a huge favor and take along some Deep Woods Off or something similar in the summer months.  Trust me on this, you’ll still get eaten, but it will be much less of a feast for our little buzzing friends.  Of course, if you are observing at the same place I am, by all means go out unprotected.  They’ll be so happy, the rest of us will have a night of peace.  For the same reason, at least think about wearing a light weight long sleeved shirt and long pants.  Your ankles and elbows with thank you. 

 

You’re 2/3rds of the way through a sequence of 50 10 minute exposures that will take all night to complete.  But you just can’t take your eyes off that computer screen.  Why would you ever want to look up when you can sit watching the seconds tick by until the next download (that will look just like the previous 37) or be mesmerized by the subtle dance of the autoguider graph.

I will finish with this one for now,  I have been as guilty of this one as anybody.  Something zen-like about watching those seconds tick by.  But right behind your head is a show of infinite variety, filled with awe inspiring sites.  Whether you use a second telescope, a pair of binoculars, or just your naked eyes, get away from the computer screen for a bit (trust me, it’s not going anywhere and you can keep checking back every 5 minutes or so if you just have to).  Stretch your legs and look up for god’s sake.  It’s why you are out there in the first place, to marvel at the wonders of the night sky.  And, if you stay up all night as I do (cursing the coming dawn cause you always need time for just one more image) there is no better way to watch the pageantry of the constellations as they slowly and majestically parade before your eyes (ok, sorry to get carried away, but just thinking about it makes me wax poetic, even if its crappy poetry).    

As I have mentioned elsewhere, I currently image (and observe) from a mountain in Oman which sits at 23 degrees North latitude.  That opens up a whole new Southern horizon, even compared to my views in Houston at 30 degrees North.  Last weekend, while my CCD churned away and the MX kept its station with the rotating stars, I watched the Southern Cross climb and pass through the meridian.  The whole damned Southern Cross, with room to spare below Acrux, its southernmost star.  Hugging it to the lower left was the inky blackness of the Coalsack.  Above it and to its left (West) hung the entire bulk of Centaurus and to the right, the star clouds of Carina, including the Eta Carina nebula.  I sat in my comfy portable recliner (a nice find at REI) and swept up the area with my 10x50 binoculars, as well as marveling with my naked eyes.

But you don’t need those wonders (though I’m certainly not knocking the opportunity).  The sky from 40 degrees North holds everything you need to get out of your chair and explore the universe.

Clear skies and happy imaging!