Part One: Getting There
Part Two: Problems with the Pup
Part Three: From Scorpions Tail to Princess' Galaxy
Part Four: The Pre-Dawn Sky
Part Five: Afterwords and Reflection

Although my all-too-short vacation at Crater Lake National Park in south central Oregon was not specifically intended for observing, I did manage to spend a little time at the eyepiece. To be sure, the trip would have been equally enjoyable without the scope - but I brought the 80mm Pup along anyway.

The trip up was solitary and uneventful. Thursday September 20's, early rise was soon followed by a 4am revving up of the engine and a rolling out of the driveway for points north. The beautiful Santa Cruz Mountains were soon left behind and a long stretch of interstate lay before me. Eight hours later (near Mount Shasta City), the fourlane and I parted company. I found myself shooting northeast to Klamath Falls Oregon. By 2:30pm, pulled into Crater Lake National Park some hour and a half before the expected arrival of my confreres from Washington State.

Figuring on a long wait, decided to drive up to caldera rim and bask in the splendour and sunshine of this most extraordinary of natural wonders...

Arrayed before me was the huge lip of a grand cauldron. Steep slopes of scrub brush, conifer, sand, and stone plummeted down to the crystalline waters of this 7 thousand year old wonder. These unsullied waters had collected inside the remnant basin of a twelve thousand foot volcano. That volcanic mountain (Mount Mazama) had erupted to blast the region of 5 states and two Canadian provinces with ash - some 7 or 8 thousand years after the earliest Native Americans had crossed an evanescent landbridge from Siberia.

The indiginous people of the region still speak of the great catastrophy of Mazama's immolation to this very day...

The sky above Crater Lake was also the sky below Crater Lake. If anything. those waters beneath me were "bluer" than the atmosphere above. The lake which gives the caldera its name is only fed by direct precipitation. No stream breaks the craters rim. Only rain and snow fall upon the lakes surface or cascades down its precipitous banks adds to its bounty. - There are probably no finer waters, anywhere...

I returned to the park headquarters to meet my friends. By 4:30pm, David (who hosts astro.geekjoy on his server) and Mary Jeanne arrived. We made plans for the afternoon. Among them was to head up to the Rim Village (which I had just left) and take dinner at the Lodge Restaurant. Upon arrival (late in the afternoon) we found the restaurant overbooked and were content to take hors d'ourves while exchanging small talk and further evolving our plans.

David and Mary Jeanne then set out to camp for the evening while I headed up to the highest accessible point on the rim. This was to be my one and only night of observing. We would meet again the next day for a hike down to the lake itself.

Cloudtop Overlook lies near the easternmost point on the caldera's rim some 7.960 feet above sea level. Earlier in the day, I had spoken to a resident park ranger. The ranger recommended this particular spot for its clarity and expansive horizon. As it turned that ranger was also an amateur astronomer whose "kit" included a 16 inch Meade Starfinder dob mounted on a trailer. I was most impressed...

What the ranger didn't mentioned was how windy and cold Cloudtop could get. This inherent inclemency plus the fact that the 80mm Pup was optically unhealthy (one sick Puppy) was enough to make the whole observing experience far more enjoyable in retrospect than in reality...

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Part Two: Problems with the Pup

As the Sun set gloriously to west amidst radiantly golden orange clouds, I assembled the Pup. Meanwhile, a further east the Moon entered day two of her moonthly cycle. Selene thin silvery crescent was soon centered in the 6x24 finderscope and main tube.

But I could not tell if efforts to re-collimate the Pup earlier in the week were successful by looking at the Moon. Seeing stability could easily mask any lingering problems with the scopes optics. In fact, to the uninitiated eye, poor seeing stability is indistinguishable from poor optical alignment and inadequate refinement of optical elements. As expected, the two day old Moon was not saying much - but it did appear that there were some problems with chromatic aberration...

If this were indeed the case, it was plain to me that the culpret was the physical separation of the Pup's doublet lens elements earlier in the week. That separation occured while attempting to bring the 80mm to the point where it could further my double star and limiting magnitude observing projects.

Mare Crisium seemed the lunar study of choice. The great crescent of maria showed beautiful ripples upon its dark surface and was occasional broken by a variety of smallish craters. But concerns about the Pup overwhelmed my appreciation.

It is sometimes a burden to be a "scopist". Even a poor scope will reveal details otherwise inaccessible to the eye... Galileo would have been astonished by the 80mm achromat even in its then current state of "dis-ease". Until the end of the 17th century, the 80mm Pup would have been a hugely prized instrument capable of "cutting edge" research and incalcuable discovery...

The expansiveness of the horizon at Cloudtop Overlook is unparalleled. One disappointment I had with Fremont Peak, is the looming peak itself populated with conning towers and flashing lights to the south-southwest. Such is not an issue at Cloudtop. The night sky is everywhere - even below your feet - reflected off the waters of the caldera...

But the winds they do blow unabated. Images in the Pups field danced unceremoniously about. Despite several layers of clothing, I was chilled to the bone. And the lack of crystal clarity in the scopes images failed to distract me from "thermal distress".

Spent about a half an hour attempting to turn up "The Winged Messenger" - Mercury - through the Pup's finder after sundown. As the sky darkened there were numerous repeated efforts. At no time did the planet choose to reveal itself. So I turned the Pup on Vega for a quick startest. Image focus traversal was terrible. Coma! Astigmatism! Yuck!

This promised to be a "low power observing occasion".

Even so, had no trouble resolving the Double Double or holding the 12.3 magnitude M57 deepfield star at 133x. It's amazing how bad things can get with a small scope and still get good" results. Was even able to elongate 1.4 arc-second Pi Aquilae!

But despite limited high power results, went ahead with the plan to sweep the sky at low magnification. In retrospect this may not have been the best choice...

For you see it has been my experience (and through my eyes only perhaps?) that whenever I observe using magnifications that allow exit pupils greater than 2mm (40x or less through the Pup), there are difficulties with astigmatism and coma in star images. This ceratinly was the case here - with a vengence.

Another reason to stay with lower magnifications was the very sad chroma, coma, and astigma seen on the few very brief, painful views made of Mars at 160x.

But a good dark sky is not to be wasted. By skydark it was easy to hold stars well past magnitude 5.5 in the Lyre. Later, was able to hold at least two stars inside the Queen's chair as well.

At 132X the Pup was at least showing airy disks on Polaris and other stars of equal and dimmer magnitude. This tells me that skies were at least 7/10 in terms of seeing stability. This reality, plus the fact that I could have easily held a 12.5 magnitude star through the little scope suggests that the transparency of the night was around 6.0 ZULM.

Now you may note that 6.0 ZULM is not particularly deep for being some 8,000 feet above sea-level. - And you would be correct! There were some high thin clouds above that probably knocked a half-magnitude off the expected depth of the sky. But what really amazed me was the fact that such clouds did not "reflect" surface light back down and complicate the picture.

Although 6.0 seeing is possible in Backyard, Boulder Creek (on the very best nights), and more frequent at the SCAC Bonny Dune Observing site, neither location gives anything like the view from Cloudtop Overlook of low sky angles. There is no question in my mind that stars above magnitude 5.0 were possible just a few degrees above the horizon! Only two faint light domes - one from Klamath Falls (south) and another from Medford (west) - were seen.

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Part Three: From Scorpion's Tail to Princess' Galaxy

So there I was, a dark, reasonably steady sky from horizon to horizon, tail of the Scorpion to west-southwest and Perseus outstretched bowl-like arms east-northeast. Three seasons of the heavens before, above, and behind...

The stargazing plan for the evening was quite simple, begin with Open Cluster M7 in Scorpius then follow that Great Highway of Lights - the Milky Way - to Cygnus overhead. All at a 16x! Image scale for everything was very small. The vast Lagoon Complex took up less than a third of the Pup's 3 degree field. The double star member within the Trifid was insoluable. Swan and Eagle Nebulae appeared as little simulcrums of themselves. All nebulae were bright and present. Faint extensions of the Swan were easily detected.

The Small Sagittarian Star Cloud appeared much larger than previously envisaged. No clear line of demarcation was visible through the low power Pup. However, snaking its way among the stars were various voids where star counts mysteriously fell way. These "voids" were obvious and numerous throughout the 80mm achromat's three degree field of view.

Encountered many examples of "dark nebulae" along the Milky Way - both telescopically and unaided. This type study is rather unheralded among amateurs but perhaps those with rich field scopes looking for a suitable challenge will take up this kind of work in the future...

Unlike M7 and various other open clusters encountered - the Wild Duck cluster was small and "grainy". At 16x, averted vision required to sensitize the eye enough to resolve individual stars. To be sure, the solitary eighth magnitude proginator sun was easily held direct. And the neighboring eighth magnitude pair could also be resolved.

From Scutum moved up to Cygnus. Spent some time confirming that a fast scope (such as the Pup) could give suggestions of NGC6888 - the Crescent Nebula. At 16x, the keystone asterism associated with the Crescent was very difficult to pick out. But yes, there it was, the Crescent Nebula, faintly glowing against the night sky...

Speaking of Cygnus - as suspected through Argo, much of the constellation is replete with faintly glowing gas, dust, minute distant suns and rife with dark regions of obscuration. The Milky Way is, par excellance, the place where rich field scopes and 80mm binoculars can truly feast. Beginning amateurs and more advanced practitioners alike should seriously consider a concerted effort to study its many wonders using such modest equipment as binoculars and fast achromats...

Went on to view the Veil Complex. The large crescent of the Eastern Veil showed remarkable structure at this low magnification. Sure, only the frontier was possible but this in itself was a real treat. The less difficult southern extension of the Western Veil was more illusive but definitely present. The southern section, though visible, lacked any real sense of frontier. Finally only a faint shimmering of the northern veil was possible. Both these dimmer sections gave only the appearance of "texture". Even so this was very impressive. From Backyard Boulder Creek, the nebula enhancing ultrablock filter is needed to just barely hint at the southern section...

My final study along the Milky Way was the North American Nebula. Even without a filter this large roughly "continental shaped" region was obvious. - No, it didn't jump out at the eye, but yes, there it was. This large region of faintly glowing luminosity was set against one especially dark region of gas and dust. That region (Lynds935) was itself huge and sprawling. Its general appearnce that of a large dark eagle sweeping down out of the sky.

At 16x, the entire galaxy fit in the 3 degree field. At such low magnification, its central core was intense and star-like. Extending outward in elongated fashion, was a huge core region covering almost a quarter of the field of view. Further out spiral arms unfolded. Their sweep blending to the very limits of the field. As such, I was seeing a miniature of our own galaxy. That starlike central core being the "Hidden Mystery" in the midst of the Milky Way - with that great central condensation of luminosity driven by the "Heart of Darkness" in its midst.

Of course, the great star clouds, and nebulae both dark and light block us from seeing our own galaxies central fire - but there it was blazing in our twin galaxy some 2.8 million lightyears away in time and space.

As we all know, M31 is accompanied by two main satellite galaxies. At 16x, the view of M110 was extraordinary. The vaguish ellipse seen in 150mm Argo at 50x, gave way to some evidence of a central star-like core and brightish core region. This blending into a well defined ellipticity. Undoubtedly, the best view had of M110 since viewing it through that 14.5 inch dob at a recent star party. Also noticed how "square" M110's location is to the main galaxies core - almost a perfect right angle (though M110 itself angles off some 45 degrees in orientation from that line).

But something was missing. M32! Took a lot of searching and knowledge of this definitely globular-cluster like satellite galaxy to turn it up at such a low magnification. But knowledge of its general position in relation to M32 core and M110 soon unmasked the "fuzzy star" for the galaxy it was...

Between M31 and M110 one normally expects to see one or more "dark lanes". The lanes are usually seen as "subtle voids" where the galaxy's light is in abeyance. Surprisingly, neither of the lanes were in evidence.

Since the Pup's equatorial mount was properly oriented to Polaris, had no trouble turning up the fainter, more distant NGC185. Simply slewed due north while keeping an eye on the field of view through the main tube. And there it was, much dimmer than M110, but definitely present.

If there was no question about the presence of NGC185, there was hope of seeing the lower surface brightness NGC147. In shifting my eye west caught a faint shimmering of luminosity. Couldn't be held direct - but there it was. Just the other side of the edge.

Earlier that evening I had taken a look at Barnard's Galaxy in north-eastern Sagittarius (also at 16x). Due to light pollution, viewing Barnard's Galaxy at such a low magnification was impossible from Backyard, Boulder Creek. But there it was - certainly as susceptible as NGC185 - and perhaps even a tad brighter.

So, in a single evening I had the pleasure of seeing our own galaxy and one of its satellites, plus our twin galaxy and four of its companions. Our destiny as a galaxy is tied to that of M31. I can think of no better a pairing...

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Part Four: The Pre-Dawn Sky

Sleeping fitfully, I woke to see Saturn and the Pleiades approaching the skies middle third. The Great Huntsman could also be seen making his ascent to the southeast.

Given the Pup's ill health and the relentless wind, that view of Saturn was less than satisfying. The planet's orb just would not achieve focus. Ring regions were ambiguous. Neither the Cassini Division nor the planet's South Equatorial Belt could be detected with any sense of certainty.

The Pleiades sparkled like diamonds and were visibly immersed in subtle nebulosity. Huge extensions of faint luminosity were seen well outside the brightest stellar fires that light the cluster and lend so much "star haze" to their region.

Took a look at the region of Alnitak in Orion's belt. Sure as anything, the Flame Nebula (NGC2024) showed itself as "duplicious" in essence - two faint lobes of nebulosity broken by the more obvious of the two bars seen through 150mm Argo on the best seeing nights back in California.

Needless to say, any kind of optics can give a decent view of the Great Nebula - as long as the sky is even half-way dark. But the special treat of this particular M42 view was the fact that the "darkness cliff" on the far side of the Trapezium was easily seen at 80mms. Direct and puissant with presence...

Of course, by this time I was ranging over the magnifications available to me through the Pup. Saturn is meaningless at 16x. The Pleiades are superb at low power but 44x is really needed for both Flame and Great Nebulae...

At 44x, despite the Pup's optics, had only the slightest difficulty turning up the 7.9 magnitude star of the Trapezium.

Finally, Jupiter got high enough for a peek. The Galilean's were all visible - nicely aligned to their primary. Two bands could be seen against the planets "fuzzy" globe at 160x.

The eastern sky had yet to brighten, but I was ready to turn in. Packed away the Pup and returned to the sleeping bag...

There would be one other viewing occasion while at Crater Lake. Rose early to show friends Mary Jeanne and Vanessa (who had joined our group the next day) around the Gas Giant populated sky. Conditions were much better. We observed from a boreal forrest. Gaps in the sky were windows above our campsite. The Pup was unbeset by winds. And that same calm favored the retention of body heat. Something that, under 5 degree C conditions, I personally like to hold onto.

On this second occasion (Saturday morning, the 22nd) the ladies gave the usual ohhhs and ahhhs over Saturn's Rings, the Great Nebula, and Jupiter's Galileans. We also took a look at an absolutely radiant Venus - far overpowering nearby Regulus.

Turned the poor sickly Pup on Castor. Still did a decent job of resolving this bright closish pair however...

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Part Five: Afterwords and Reflection

There is, like most things, an afterword to all this. And there is also a summing up of thoughts.

The Pup is now better - but has yet to achieve the level of performance needed to give high quality views of the sky. Efforts over ensuing days have only returned the optics to their former state. It will take much subtle manipulation of the relative position between the two elements in the object glass to achieve this. As a budding "optician" I welcome this opportunity to improve my understanding and develop hands on skills along this line...

There is a breed of amateur astronomer whose love of the sky is such that they will brave any conditions to turn scope to sky and inhale the light-fragrance of the cosmos. Sadly, I am not one of them. My "need" to observe is more cerebral. Sure, like most observers, I can be motivated viscerally to take scope in hand and turn it toward the night sky - but this is something that occurs only after periods of abstenance. Frankly, I am out under the heavens far too much to "re-charge my loins" in this manner. So cold, and wind, and scope dis-ease can easily undermine my enthusiasm for a night's observing. And these factors certainly evinced themselves in Crater Lake...

But now, in retrospect, I look back on this particular venture through an "mnemonic veil". I sit warm and comfortable at my computer typing up the experience. And that experience blends with kindred experiences to weave a beautiful tapestry of rapturous nights out under the stars.

That's how I will always remember that night above the Sapphire Blue Waters of Crater Lake...

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