Messier Year in a Night

Most dreams come by dark of night. Luckily for 18th century astronomer Charles Messier, that was precisely where his dreams could best be realized. Messier dreamed of comets. Discovering such celestial road shows was all the rage in the 18th century (and still causes excitement today). Like most dreamers, Messier probably thought his dreams unattainable, making such a dream all the more appealing.

Since dreams are largely concerned with things new and different, they also tend to bring problems. We rarely dream a thing easily done, probably because most of life comes undreamt and were we to dream it, a host of problems would beset us! While seeking comets, Messier encountered lots of problems. One big problem was that he kept finding comets everywhere. But those ‘comets’ never seemed to go any where, they just remained comfortably parked in space between the stars.

Although many of Charles Messier’s comets didn’t exactly have tails, he told others of them anyway. In so doing, Messier made a list publishing it in the French almanac Connoissance des Temps. After all, if Messier kept running into pseudo-comets, others would too! That list (The Catalogue of Nebulae and Star Clusters) is now more than 100 ‘comets’ long and 2 centuries old. Today, it’s still in use, despite the fact that astronomers have gone on to discover not thousands, nor tens of thousands, not even hundreds of thousands, but millions of ‘comets’. Like most of Messiers’, these comets don’t seem to go anywhere either.

Not all Messier’s comets looked like comets. Even through his smaller instruments, more than 2 dozen resolved into stars. Nor was Messier the first to see them. A few had been known for centuries. Some were first seen by observing partner Pierre Mechain, many by other telescopic astronomers of the era. Drawing lines wasn’t where Charles Messier was at. If it wasn’t a fixed star, the Moon, or moving planet and had anything unusual about it, it pretty much qualified for his list whether he was the first to see it or not. After all, Charles Messier wasn’t a Philosopher of Science, he was a man on a mission. And that mission was finding anything that even smacked of comet!

Unlike Charles Messier, I haven’t made a career of looking for comets. (Perhaps this has something to do with the fact that I don’t live in the 18th century.) If I come across something comet-like while sweeping the sky with my telescope and it isn’t already on someone’s list, I can be pretty sure I’ve independently discovered someone else’s ‘comet’. In observing the night sky, I, like many other amateur astronomers, have made numerous independent discoveries of such deep sky studies – simply because I didn’t know a particular galaxy, cluster or nebula was there when I first came across it.

I’ve often imagined what it would be like to instantly travel to another distant world. Graced by a canopy of unfamiliar stars overhead and accompanied by a few choice optical instruments, I’d soon set out to chart my own course across the heavens. How would I proceed? What equipment would best suit me? What value would my discoveries be to myself and others? Such questions are interesting enough to ponder. I can only imagine such a thing, the earliest telescopic observers of the Night Sky lived it.

Today, I know too much about the Northern Hemisphere sky to live such a dream in earnest. Perhaps someday I’ll be able to approach unseen parts of Southern Hemisphere sky in this way.

My personal experience with astronomy began four decades ago. As a child, I was a frequent and precocious visitor to a particular branch of the public library system of Jacksonville, Florida. In that library, I inhaled every book on space science and rocketry available. Although I read astronomy, it was only later that ‘the oldest science’ became my primary interest. (I’ve never launched more than a bottle rocket in my life.)

In the olden days, amateur astronomy pretty much revolved around three main areas of observation: Lunar-planetary, variable and double stars. The average amateur felt fortunate to have a six inch German-equatorial mounted Newtonian reflector or a three and a half inch, long-focus achromatic refractor. Due to great focal length, the refractor was usually turned on Moon, planets, or double stars. A six inch reflector could have had loftier aspirations, but such a scope was often directed to those same studies plus variable stars. Very few observers took the time to track down faint fuzzies. Precisely because, with few exceptions, that's what you’d see.

As things turned out, I have a six inch and almost 3.5 inch refractor today. Sure, I still look at the moon, planets and stars. But I visit with galaxies, clusters and nebula too. Many are listed on Charles Messier’s list, far more are not. Amateur astronomy has changed. Amateur astronomy has gone deep…

By the time of my new millennia return to astronomy, an explosion in scope apertures, types and mounts had occurred. The advent of digital setting circles and "goto" electronics had also simplified astro-navigation. All this astonished me. A whole new universe had opened up in my absence. Amateur’s resolved dense globular clusters, saw spiral arms around galaxies, detected central stars in planetary nebulae, even photographed in color! Whole new possibilities for visual exploration and digital imaging had been made possible by advancements in optics, digital processors and computing.

Then there was also the Internet with its thriving community of ‘astronuts’ posting scope reviews, observing reports, CCD images, digitized photographs even as others argued how many galaxies could dance around M84 & 86 in a single field of view and the relative virtues of Apos, Newts and Cats.

There was a lot to catch up on. My youthful experience was limited to a handful of the more spectacular Messier studies (such as M42, 31 & 13), double stars and, of course, the Moon and bright planets. During that time, the NGC (New General Catalogue) was a scholarly tome referenced only within the inner sanctums of the world's great observatories. In my absence, deep sky observation escaped the observatory bottle and found a home in the backyard's of amateur astronomers everywhere. Amateurs were framing images of the cosmos antiquating many taken from the great observatories by professional astronomers during the first half of the twentieth century.

To get caught up, I needed a plan. Fortunately, I still retained much of what I’d learned as a kid. I understood how time of night and season of year determined what could be seen at any given time. I appreciated the importance of having well-maintained, quality equipment under a sky of good transparency and fine stability. And I had a solid grounding in the technical jargon used to label deep sky studies: Planetary Nebula, Bright Nebula, Globular Cluster, Open Cluster, Spiral Galaxy along with their properties: Cumulative magnitude, apparent size, right ascension, declination. Most important, I knew enough to get started finding my way around the night sky - by eye, binoculars, finder scope or main tube.

So I put together an observing plan. That plan had me out every possible night from September 23, 2000 through September 16, 2001. During that one year, I tracked down and documented some 300 deep sky studies: From galaxies to open and globular clusters, bright and planetary nebulae and double stars. With great effort and plausible deniability, I was even able to locate the furthest denizen possible using modest amateur equipment - 3 billion light-year distant quasar 3C273. Today, I credit what familiarity I have with the night sky to the disciplines of that single year - a year that would be very difficult for me to ever repeat again...

While developing my year-long observing plan, I placed special attention on four main astronomical factors: A particular studies type, right ascension, declination, and surface brightness. Each factor had a huge impact on a particular study's visibility. Any one factor could completely preclude it from being seen at any given time or from any particular locale. Other factors (such as equipment, visual acuity, experience level, environment and seeing conditions) also determined the susceptibility of any given deep sky study (DSS) to view. Successful is the astronomer who takes all these factors into account and makes an honest appraisal of the limits of available equipment, seeing conditions and personal skills involved. Yet despite my best laid plans, several planned studies eluded my eyes, scope and skies. I was generally, but not always, successful.

Out of success and failure, I came to realize that a lot goes into being a practical astronomer. Most important was the desire to get out under the Night Sky at all. But since desire, like cloudless nights, can’t be relied on, discipline too was necessary. Desire can get you started, but only discipline can see you through tough times to a satisfactory conclusion. The gain of all this wanting and willing is skill-in-action. Skill-in-action however, requires an objective demanding, in turn, a critical mass of knowledge, equipment and opportunity.

So we begin any plan with the notion of opportunity. You can’t find it if it isn’t visible. When assessing visibility, the first step is to know where a thing is. Only then can you begin to determine when it might be seen.

A particular study’s right ascension binds it to the time of year and hour of night it can be seen to best advantage. Right ascension may be thought of as the position (in hours and minutes) any study takes on a twenty-four hour clock. On this particular clock, zero hour bisects the vault of the sky at 6:00 PM on the day of the winter solstice. Every hour greater than zero hour is another hour later in the evening (on that same day). Each hour spans 15 degrees of the sky (at the celestial equator). All this makes sense when we realize that, under ideal conditions (like living on a tropical island inhabited by an indigenous population of hula dancers), we can see, at best, 50% of the sky at any given time. And that 50% is made up of a dome-like, hemispherical expanse of 180 degrees. The other half of that dome? Well, its largely being eclipsed by another astronomical body of enormous importance – the Earth!

This leads to our second planning parameter: Declination. Living anywhere other than along the Earth's equator prevents us from seeing the entire span of the cosmos. In fact, the further we live from the equator, the less of the total celestial vault we can view. Assuming again that we live on an island whose horizon is the ocean surface it’s pretty easy to determine how much of the sky we lose (south or north). If our island is at 20 degrees north latitude, we lose 20 degrees of the southern sky beneath the waves. So any proposed study with a declination greater than -70 degrees (-90 + 20) never appears and can be politely removed from our observing plan. No amount of aperture or superior optics will ever reveal an object further south from that island. However, the 20 degrees of southern sky lost to us is recovered by realizing that studies within 20 degrees of the north polar axis remain above the horizon.

Right ascension, declination, time of year, time of night and where you observe from. These five parameters can be thought of as the hard stops of astronomical observation. Yet there are soft stops as well…

As a particular study approximates the horizon, sky conditions make it more and more difficult to find and view. In effect, the atmosphere robs it of its light, while undermining contrast and adding noise to image quality. This effectively reduces susceptibility in two ways:

Speaking practically, most amateurs would agree that a study less than 10 degrees (one extended fists width) above the horizon is effectively unobservable. Certainly, it may be seen, but little of its grandeur and beauty remains. The combination of factors cited above leeches luminosity out of its image and adds a grey murky haze throughout the field of view. Finally, if a study includes resolvable components (such as the tightly-packed stars of a globular cluster) the additional turbulence of the sky at lower elevations blends its individual lights into a single inchoate mass. The result is a loss of resolution comparable to smothering a speaker grille with a pillow then attempting to distinguish an oboe from a saxophone.

This leads to a little practical astronomy done without much in the way of equipment. Go outside on any reasonably dark, cloud and moonless night. Find yourself a location as far away from obstructing trees and artificial illumination as possible. Look directly overhead and make a small chart of all the stars you can see down to the very faintest. Repeat this same kind of chart for stars near the horizon. Include as much of the sky as your think necessary in both charts. Once you’re done, refer to an astronomical atlas to determine the magnitude of the very faintest stars included on your two charts. This one experiment will give you an idea of how much atmospheric extinction occurs between the overhead sky (on the zenith) and the sky down low near the horizon.

If lucky, you’ll see stars to magnitude 5.5 overhead and 4.0 within 10 degrees above the horizon. The same amount of atmospheric extinction will also afflict any unseen studies in the same part of the sky and will cut the aperture of any telescope you may use in half. So that big gulp 12 inch Dobsonian reflector you may be using has been reduced to six inches by simply giving it the tilt toward the horizon…

Aside from the fading effect of the sky, each DSS has a native surface brightness. This brightness is based on its size, total (or cumulative) magnitude, and the unique way light is distributed across it. Some studies (such as Seyfert Galaxy M77 in Cetus) have very bright nuclei but rapidly dim to the frontier. Others (such as the dwarf elliptical galaxy M110 in Andromeda) show a far more gradual dimming from the center outward. Large objects with high cumulative magnitudes (such as M33) can be more difficult to find than small objects of much lower magnitude (such as M57 in Lyra). Including a DSS on an observing plan whose brightest feature is outside the reach of a particular telescope is a sure recipe for frustration. If the study also happens to be low in the sky, a great deal of scattered light is nearby, or the atmosphere is generally less transparent than hoped, difficulties multiply.

NOTE: To assist in evaluating specific deepsky studies for susceptibility, special DHTML calculators were created for this website. One, the Limiting Magnitude Calculator allows you to determine the dimmest star that may be seen through most scopes depending on sky condition, position, and other factors. A second, The Deepsky Susceptibility Calculator may be used to determine which potential studies can actually be found or properly viewed (under optimal seeing conditions). A third, the Double Star Resolution Calculator can predict whether a particular double star nay be resolved by a scope of given aperture and at what magnification. Finally, there is a Double Star Separation Calculator which can be used to determine the apparent separation of close double stars encountered during observing sessions.

All these influences, of course, portend difficulties when it comes to the main subject of this book – observing all 110 deep sky studies attributed to Charles Messier in a single night, but there others as well. Unlike DSS type, right ascension, declination and surface brightness, some factors are more conditional and transient, while others are under a greater degree of the observer's control. These include:

Of all factors influencing view quality, the one most subject to the astronomer's immediate control is gaining experience under the night sky. To do so, there’s nothing better than implementing a detailed plan including a large variety of deep sky studies for eyepiece identification and study. Once a plan is implemented, there’s no better test of skills than to find a large number of reasonably difficult DSSs over a short period of time. To assist in this, we amateurs enjoy a special legacy passed down from an early figure of astronomical investigation.

While seeking fame and fortune as a comet hunter, Charles Messier compiled a list of over 100 comet-like objects. Messier's list is made up of an engaging and varied mix of DSS's which can be found by any diligent amateur possessing a quality 65mm or larger aperture scope. Even so, but for three particular objects (#'s 74, 76 & 91 on the Messier list), 107 can be found with such a modest scope - even on nights of unexceptional virtue.

Finally, it just so happens that every study on Messier’s list can theoretically be seen on a single night. This is possible because no object on that list is positioned later than right ascension hour 23 and minute 24 or before hour 0 and minute 42. (Another factor impacting this is that some Messiers are circumpolar.) Thus, for a period of 1 hour and 18 minutes, there’s a gap in the sky where Charles Messier’s list includes nothing. Given the right time of year, a moonless night, an observing site free of light pollution and physical obstructions, and a reasonably southern observing locale, all 110 studies can be viewed during a single ten hour observing period. In fact, there’s a growing body of amateurs drawn to just such a venture. Such amateurs are known to participate in a Messier Marathon.

For me, observing the entire Messier list was a major goal after my return to practical amateur astronomy. Observing meant more than simply finding them. I wanted to record my observations in as much detail as possible. Because how a study looks is largely based on sky conditions, I made an effort to capture as much information about the phase of the Moon, time of night, sky transparency and stability as possible. To these non-equipment related factors, I added aperture and type instrument plus magnification used. In some instances, I even did sketches (or eyepiece impressions). As you read Messier Year in a Night, you’ll have an opportunity to see through my eyes in word and sketch.

Due to the many variables associated with a Messier Marathon, it’s unlikely all 110 deep sky studies attributed to the early centuries of telescopic investigation will be seen over the course of any given night. Compressing one-hundred seventy years of discovery into a single observing session is a bit much to ask even today. Yet the attempt to participate in such a venture is honorable enough in itself – whether successful or not.

There is, of course, more to a Messier Marathon than finding, seeing and checking off one deep sky study after another. To fully appreciate the experience means fusing an almost mystical appreciation for the Night Sky with the technical skills needed to confidently ‘track up’ one study after another. To do so, the headlong rush for achievement must also be tempered by depth of engagement in the moment. Although running a Messier Marathon may be hard enough, walking one may be more difficult still. In participating in such a venture, keep in mind that the best way to make God laugh is to tell Him your plans for the future…

Amateur astronomy isn't for everyone. But unlike other interests, it very well could be. After all, there’s plenty of sky to go around. And to enjoy the sky doesn't take much - to start, just the power of human sight and ability to keep looking up.

The idea of ‘looking up’ isn’t a modern phenomenon. In fact, the ancients were probably more familiar with the heavens than most of us today. Before the telescope, the Universe was a much smaller place. All it took was a few simple instruments – such as the astronomical quadrant and astrolabe, to take a full measure of the heavens. That some astral denizens could be relied on to stay pretty much where they were left and others – such as Sun, Moon, planets and occasional foreboding comet didn’t, was pretty much the end of it.

Astronomy has become very sophisticated since Galileo first publicized his earliest telescopic adventures in the Starry Messenger. Astronomers now monitor the Universe across broad swaths of the electromagnetic spectrum. From radio-frequency point source galaxies to cosmically pervasive microwave background radiation, through infrared, visible light, ultraviolet, x-rays and short-lived gamma ray bursts, astronomers see it all.

Learning about the cosmos is one thing. Taking the time to observe it, another. Most folks will tarry over the occasional newspaper article announcing a new astronomical insight or discovery. Far fewer will set out on a cold winter’s night bearing a carload of carefully selected astronomical equipment to a distant lonely mountain retreat. Yet appreciating the night sky and its many denizens is akin to enjoying any work of art. Anyone captivated by a painting by Van Gogh, statue by Roden, sonata by Beethoven, play by Shakespeare or poem by Tennyson, can certainly appreciate a constellation wrought by the hand of God...

Unlike works woven by human hand, the pattern of the heavens is more difficult to distinguish. The ancients put their imaginations to task seeking order where none existed. Lines drawn between brighter stars in connect-the-dot fashion gave shape to the heavens. Not surprisingly, the many figures so delineated looked very much like things the people of the era were familiar with. Practical astronomy begins with knowledge of constellations forged by the imaginations of the ancients. Today, it has led us to the abyss beyond rational thought…

It’s easy to get a sense of what was involved in work done by early astrologers and astronomers. All you have to do is set an alarm clock and awaken at say 2am on a cloudless night then step outside without turning on any more lights than needed to safely navigate the kitchen. If you happen to live somewhere outside the many major sprawling metropoli most of us reside in you might see a scene like this:

With the invention of the telescope, things got more complex. Certainly, work done by the ancients giving order to things celestial provided a solid observing platform for Galileo, Messier and other observers to stand on. But that foundation now had to support the complexity of what proved to be often oversized, under-mounted, poorly crafted telescopes that showed things on a larger, but not necessarily brighter, scale. Messier’s challenge, in particular, was to tease out of the eyepiece the faint light of sometimes hard to distinguish ‘nebulosa’. To get a sense of what was involved, have a look at the following telescopic field of view:

Modern astronomy has taken things much, much further. Astronomers no longer poise observing eyes over eyepieces. (In fact, should they do so their eyes would literally ‘pop out’, since their main observing platform swings around the Earth in the vacuum of space.) Today, we image the heavens using charge coupled devices (CCD’s) feeding electrical signals to computers and create time composite views of incredibly distant studies. Consider this 3 arc minute apparent sized (1/10th of a moon) region of the constellation Fornax. Not one of the 10,000 galaxies present is visible using Earth-based telescopes. This particular visible light/near-infrared image shows us a small part of how the Universe looked not long after the first galaxies took form some 13.3 billion years ago.

Such images as the HST Ultra Deep Field have revealed to astronomers that both sublime order and unfathomable chaos exists in the Universe. Yet, a few simple physical laws are thought to account for all things great and small seen in the night sky. Those same laws, however, begin to break down when accounting things infinitely large and infinitesimally small. At the extremes, sub-atomic particles and the Big Bang Universe are equally incomprehensible. Meanwhile, what can’t be accounted for in strict detail can largely be explained in abstract. From super-massive black holes to tiny bits of comet debris, the way in which matter and energy react to populate the Universe with things luminous and substantial makes more than a little sense. Yet describing the many properties and behaviors of things is only the half of astronomy, there’s much of wonder and mystery to things cosmic as well.

Like any work of art, a fine appreciation of the night sky is something that can be cultivated. Yet unlike objets d’art, there’s something primordial and immediately evocative about the heavens defying any need for preparation or cultivation. To simply head out on a clear night and stand in the midst of a grassy field far from city lights is enough to conjure up a spirit of astral romance etched indelibly in the stuff of our inner beings. This shouldn’t be surprising. Our very bodies are formed of primordial essences sprung into existence with the very birth of the Universe itself. Later, some of these same essences were re-configured within the hearts of long-dead stars. Today, they live on through each and every one of us as well as every creature and all inanimate substance. What gives life to things material is light. And light, in its diverse frequencies has largely informed our understanding of the Universe.

Given that each and every one of us has an inherent love of the night sky, why is it that so few express it? And how is it that such a grand and universal pass-time has become appreciated by the few?

The answer isn’t far to seek. In a sense, we’re all engaged deeply in things cosmic. We live lives of quiet desperation constantly pursuing star stuff. Everything we see, feel, touch, smell and taste originates in the Great Beyond. And it’s the struggle to acquire and put star stuff to personal and collective advantage that demands most of our attention. Because of that preoccupation, we have little time or energy left for the greater universe out of which things took form. Amazing isn't it? The very source of all the many things of this world; that vast vault of the cosmos, is ignored due to the more immediate demands placed on us by the mundane star-stuff around us.

For thousands of years human beings have practiced ‘the oldest of the sciences’. Civilizations, past and present, have devoted significant portions of their star stuff, offering it up on the altar of the Earth as a sacrifice to the Deity of the Heavens. Such sacrifices have been entrusted to a men and women who took up the sacred venture of recording astronomical events, assigning names, describing behaviors and predicting events and outcomes.

Such priest-astronomers practiced a complex craft. And like any such craft, they did so from sacred sites. And because they chose to be effective in their practice, specialized knowledge, equipment, tools and skills were required. Meanwhile, in order to improve individual and collective chances of success, star craft demanded much of interaction and collaboration among practitioners.

Running alongside the golden thread of professional astronomy is the silver thread of amateur endeavor. Unlike professional practitioners, amateurs are not directly supported by the civilization in which they reside. The sacrifice of star stuff made by society in the form of the great observatories and their staffs is made by the individual amateur out of his or her own wherewithal. Because of this, equipment is often modest - but rarely crude. Training is minimal and usually self-applied. Skills unrefined - but enthusiastically cultivated.

Amateur astronomy is involved in something professional astronomers no longer practice. Amateurs put eye to eyepiece capturing light originating from things well beyond the Earth. While amateur astronomers observe, professional astronomers write complex proposals and lay out observing plans intended to probe specific questions about the Universe. If fortunate, a specific proposal is later funded by a government, university, philanthropy or organization. Once funded, time is scheduled for an observing run using towering equipment placed on lonely mountain tops overlooking far distant horizons free of a major part of the Earth’s atmosphere and much of the light pollution generated by towns and cities. In using such equipment, astronomers see computer-based time-composite images of what their instruments reveal on glowing computer monitors. But it’s rare for a professional astronomer to actually intercept light directly from the night sky with their own eyes. Amateur astronomers rarely observe based on plans laid down months earlier. They typically set aside time in their otherwise work-a-day lives to gather up personal equipment while keeping an eye to sky conditions and weather reports. Some well-situated amateurs enjoy the luxury of hand-carrying small fully-mounted telescopes out of the garage to the backyard on a moment’s notice. Others pack large vans or even tug along whole trailers bearing fully mounted telescopes. Then it’s off for several hours, or even days, of driving to distant locales – the higher and further from city lights, the better…

Little orthodoxy exists among amateurs. There’s no one way to observe the night sky. Nor are there any particular types of astronomical venture holding universal appeal. Some amateurs are content to recognize and trace the great patterns of bright and dim stars that inform the constellations by eye or binocular. Others turn small but well-figured telescopes on Moon and planets. Still others take up star-splitting. Others derive satisfaction in the quiet company of a few brighter deep sky studies. Others seek out the most difficult denizens possible, deliberately pushing themselves and their equipment to the limit.

But all astronomers, amateur and professional, share a common legacy. That legacy begins with the ancients framing the constellations and naming the stars and planets, passed along by the earliest efforts to atlas star positions, then onto the early figures of telescopic observation: Galileo, Huygens, Cassini, Hodierna, Lacaille, de Chéseaux and Messier…

Charles Messier was born 10th of 12 children to Nicolas Messier and Francoise Grandblaise on June 26, 1730 in Badonviller, Lorraine, France. At age 11, Charles father Nicolas died. Three years later, Charles viewed his very first comet – the Great Six-tailed Comet of 1744. This and a subsequent astronomical event (the annular solar eclipse of July 25th, 1748) left such a strong impression on young Charles that he was advised by Nicholas Delisle, chair of astronomy at the College de France, to take up a career as an astronomer. On May 6, 1753, Messier made his first fully documented telescopic observation (of a transit of the sun by Mercury) from Delisle’s Hotel de Cluny observatory in Paris France.

In 1757, Messier began a quest to see Halley’s Comet make its first predicted return to the inner solar system while still lurking well outside Earth orbit. In so doing, Messier made his first independent deep sky discovery – that of the Great Andromeda Galaxy’s dwarf attendant – M32. (M32 had been previously seen by Le Gentil in 1749.)

It wasn’t until early 1759 that Messier succeeded in locating Halley’s Comet. (He was preceded a month earlier by German farmer and amateur astronomer J.G. Palitzsch who first saw Halley’s Comet Christmas Night, 1758.)

One year later (January 26, 1760), Charles discovered his first comet. During the same period, Messier independently discovered M1 (Crab Nebula) and began to suspect that much confusion was possible between fuzzy moving things (such as comets) and fuzzy fixed things (such as nebulae).

It wasn’t until May 3, 1764, that Messier made his first original discovery of a fixed nebulosity. At the age of 34, a not-so-young Charles came across globular cluster M3 in the constellation Canes Venatici. It’s probable this discovery jump-started a deliberate quest to find and catalog as many nebulae as possible. As a result in 1774, under the auspices of the French Académie des Sciences, Messier published his first list of 45 deep sky studies. Although Messier discovered thirteen original comets over a period spanning forty-one years (1760-1801), his true legacy is bound up with the Messier catalog of deep sky studies. Published in 1781, the final Messier list (augmented by nine undocumented discoveries largely made by Messier’s observing partner Pierre François André Méchain, 1744 - 1804) comprises a body of work now reprised by many first time amateur astronomers as their first goal of achievement in observing the deep heavens.

There are many approaches amateur astronomers can take to retrace Messier’s steps. One is to simply devote an entire observing year to finding each and every Messier study. By finding a new one each evening and re-observing others familiarity improves. A more adventurous approach is to simply head out whenever possible with large astronomical binoculars in hand and scan the entire heavens looking for things unusual. Such an approach is likely to turn up several hundred deep sky studies, half of which are likely to be found on Messier’s list. Several Messiers, however, are simply too small in apparent size to be recognized as anything other than faint stars. An equal number are probably too faint for the inexperienced eye to recognize. But a systematic exploration using 10x60 or larger binoculars could reveal as many as 100 Messiers and equally as many other “Messier-class” DSSs.

However you choose to become familiar with Messier’s legacy, there may come a night when you attempt to find as many of them in the sky as possible. This could be as informal as going out on any clear night and tracking down each one lying above the horizon (a mini-messier marathon) or actually pulling an all-nighter on one of the three nights each year when all 110 studies manage to avoid Sun and Moon. (Interestingly, that such a thing is possible in a single night is thought to have been first noted by another comet hunter – contemporary amateur astronomer Don Macholz of Colfax, California.)

Whatever approach is taken, modern amateurs have the advantage of far better telescopes than Messier had in his day. Messier used a variety of fixed magnification instruments ranging from 1 to 32 feet in focal length and 3 to 7.5 inches in aperture. Smaller scopes were mainly non-color corrected single lens refractory telescopes. The largest was a speculum mirrored Gregorian reflector. His best instruments were all 3.5 inch F-10 achromatic refractors of roughly 120x magnification. Since the two-lens (doublet) achromatic lens design came along late in his observing career, most of Messier’s observations were done using instruments with the effective light-gathering capacity of a modern 2.5 inch achromatic refractor. Such a scope would normally reveal stars as faint as magnitude 11.5. Given the limited eyepiece fields of the time, its likely Messier saw no more than one quarter of a degree of the sky at once. (This amounts to one-half the apparent size of the full moon.) Such a small field may account for the more than three-hundred deep sky studies that might otherwise have been found by Messier and Pierre Méchain using comparable equipment today.

Of the 110 deep sky studies now found in Messier’s list, 42 may be unequivocally ascribed to him as original discoverer. 22 were first turned up by Pierre Méchain. Three entries were known since antiquity. Another (M31) was first described by Al Sufi in the Middle Ages. The earliest telescopic discovery making its way to Messier’s list was that of Nicholas-Claude Fabri de Peiresc who encountered M42 – the Great Nebula in Orion – in 1610. 9 entries not included in Messier’s 1781 catalog were added based on the scholarship of later astronomers. 8 came several decades after Messier’s final publication. M110, the final addition to the list, was actually an original discovery of Messier’s (in 1773) but for whatever reason was never measured for sky position and didn’t find its way into the 1781 publication.

Charles Messier was neither the first nor last astronomer to make a list of the many denizens of the night sky. Yet his list has managed to capture the imagination of countless amateur astronomers. As long as the night sky remains dark, today and future generations of observers will no doubt find themselves retracing Charles Messier’s footsteps across the heavens.

I begin my Messier tour by selecting a time of year when astronomical night lasts for close to eleven hours. It must also correspond to that season when the Sun passes through the middle of the Messier right ascension gap (of 78 minutes). Finally, it is preferable that the Sun take a position closer to the last object to view - because that study (M52) is circumpolar and can be viewed at any time during the night (while DSOs further from the pole often need the benefit of full darkness to be detected). So I want the Sun to be somewhere between hours 23 and 0 if at all possible.

The month that resolves all these limitations is March - a time when the Sun sets on a twelve hour day, and the evening sky is passably dark an hour after set and a half hour before rise.

Polaris: Our very own pole star is at center of small group of stellar confreres. One half-hour after sunset, I find the second magnitude primary using the finderscope. This allows me to precisely align the right ascension and declination axis of the mount. (Something that is essential to successfully "star hop" throughout the night.) Dropping in the 70x eyepiece, I can just make out Polaris-B (Polaris's brightest, ninth magnitude companion) with slightly averted vision some 18 arc-seconds southwest of the primary. The fact that I can make out the dim companion so soon after sunset bodes well for sky transparency as the evening progresses...

NOTE: With the equatorial mount now oriented toward Polaris something very practical is in place. If I push on the right ascension axis of my scope only, I can be sure that any two studies (say a star and a galaxy) that share the same declination (degrees north or south of the celestial equator) can be reliably found in the low-power eyepiece field. Meanwhile if I only push on the declination axis I can accomplish the same task based on any two studies on – or near – the same right ascension. Because of this one alignment and the use of an equatorial mount I carry a lot of confidence in my ability to track down the more difficult studies from Messiers list throughout the night – something that will be especially important when I enter the galaxy fields of Virgo and Coma Berenices around midnight.

Castor: Meanwhile above and overhead, I can just make out a pair of first magnitude stars. The pair (Castor and Pollux) is separated by about five degrees oriented along a southeast to northwest axis. Of course, neither has taken on any real brilliance, so I have to work hard to see them out without the finderscope. It is northwesterly Alpha Geminorium that is of especial interest. 1.6 magnitude Castor actually consists of two second magnitude stars separated by a little more than 3 arc-seconds. On this particular night at 70x magnification, I can see two pearlescent virtual disks separated by a thin hairline of space - another sign of fine seeing conditions.

In the same 120x field is a faint 12.3 magnitude field star (just northeast of the Iota triple). While viewing the main group, I make frequent checks for this particular star. Once it can be held with averted vision, the sky has become dark enough to proceed. And just before 7:00, I am able to hold the field star confidently. The sky has darkened to the point where 4th magnitude stars can now be seen direct without the scope.

One final double is on tap before I begin my tour in earnest: Gamma Ceti. The sky is now just dark enough to make out a faint semi-circle of third and fourth magnitude stars toward the southwest horizon. Further southwest at the base of the "bonnet" formed by this semi-circle is a pair of third magnitude stars. Of the two, the northern is Gamma - a close (2.5 arc second) disparate magnitude (3.6 and 6.2) pair requiring 120x for clean resolution. The fact that I can split the pair suggests that good sky conditions extend down as low as twenty-five degrees above the horizon – it also tells me that I’ve found the right star!

Now despite the fact that true sky-dark has yet to arrive, I begin my long journey into night...

My first Messier find needs be something especially bright (so it can be found against that "dusky" sky). It should also be located near a group of relatively bright, and easily recognizable stars. Complicating this is the fact that it must be located in that dangerous region of the sky to the southwest where DSOs tend to disappear quickly into the "murk" just above the horizon. Based on these factors, I choose...

M77 Cetus, Type: Galaxy, Magnitude: 8.9, Size: 6x5' RA:2:42.7, Dec:-00:01, Optimal Scope Size: 150mm.

At 7:00pm at the time of the vernal equinox, from 40 degrees north latitude, M77 lies some 20 degrees above the southwest horizon, some one degree southeast of Delta Ceti. Given its location, the brightest portion of M77 displays a visual brightness of roughly the 11th magnitude. Using a one degree field 60X eyepiece, a four inch refractor should just show the core as a "fuzzy star", Little else would be possible. Once found, a larger scope (let say 150mm MCT "Argo") would show a 2 or 3 arc-minute diameter round nebulosity whose bright central core rapidly dissipates into the grey of the early evening sky.

Earlier in the season - say this time of night in late January - I would also take the time to track down faint (magnitude 10.6) largish (8 by 3 arc-minutes) elongated spiral galaxy NGC1055. One reason: NGC1055 lies about one degree northwest of M77 and forms a flat triangle with Delta. Although this 13.7 magnitude average surface brightness (ASB) galaxy may just be found with a 100 millimeter scope under superb conditions, low sky position, and the early evening hour rules it out this late in its season. One thing of note, if I wanted to get a view of NGC1055 comparable to 12.3 ASB M77, Argo would have to double to some 300mm's in aperture!

After viewing M77, I locate the two brightest stars of Aries and follow their line southwest and center the finderscope on 4th magnitude Eta Piscium. Switching to the main tube, I sweep one degree east to:

2 . M74 Pisces, Type: Galaxy, Magnitude: 9.2, Size: 10X9' RA:1:36.7, Dec: 15:47, Optimal Scope Size: 250mm.

M74 lacks the bright central core displayed by Seyfert Galaxy M77. Given its position some 20 degrees above the western horizon, the brightest visible portion of M74 displays an adjusted surface brightness of magnitude 12. This makes detection difficult. Even through 150mm Argo, I am fortunate to pick out a vague light mound. This seen while sweeping the region east of Eta at 50X. The fact that I located it at all is hugely satisfying in itself. There is little more to be viewed under the circumstances. Like M77, M74 is best viewed around the time of the winter solstice when it hangs high above the southern horizon at skydark.

Low to the northwest, I locate Beta Andromedae. Had the sky been darker, or season earlier, I would turn the 70x eyepiece on Beta then nudge the 2nd magnitude star out of the field (to the southeast). Like NGC1055, 10.1 magnitude / 4 arc-minute sized NGC404 gives a definitive view through a 12 inch instrument. But at lower magnifications, Argo shows a surprising amount of central condensation. Even with bright Beta doing all it can to claim the entire view for itself.

But due to the twin effects of low sky position and early evening hour, I choose to follow the line made by 2nd magnitude Beta with 4th magnitude Mu and double that same distance. Switching to the finderscope, a vague patch of light can be made out some 15 degrees above the northwest horizon. Switching to the main tube:

M31 Andromeda, Type: Galaxy, Magnitude: 3.5, Size: 160x40' RA:00:42.7, Dec:42:16, Optimal Scope Size: 50mm.

Despite low sky position, The elongated core of M31 and it's bright extensions northwest and southeast are easily caught. However, little sense of surface brightness variations (texture) is possible. Just a general blend of light from the bright core dissipating evenly throughout the 1 degree field of view. Little of M31 is visible to really engage the eye. No dark lane truncating it to the north. Low sky position has bled visual interest out of this most extraordinary of deepsky wonders. Again I look forward to seeing M31, high and to the east in more propitious autumn skies.

Had the month been October say, and skies especially fine, I would take the time to turn up the only "knot of brightening" in M32 visible through Argo. That knot (NGC206) may be seen some 45 arc-minutes from the galaxy's brilliant core within it's southwestern spiral arm. This small (2 by 1 arc minute) "light mound" is a tough catch. Smaller, short focus scopes (such as Argo's 80mm fast achromat stable mate the Pup) have just as good a chance of turning it up as larger long-focus scopes such as Argo. The key to this lies in the idea of image scale. The Pup's lesser light is concentrated into a smaller area. While Argo's greater light is spread out and diffuse over a larger region. NGC206 itself requires scopes of twice Argo's aperture to be really appreciated in the eyepiece. In general though, it takes very dark nights of superb seeing to really appreciate this fine 13th magnitude concentration of bright stars along our sister-galaxy's spiral axis.

So after a quick, hopeful look in the general direction of NGC206, I shift my view due south of M31 core and take in:

M32 Andromeda, Type: Galaxy, Magnitude: 8.2, Size: 8x6' RA:00:42.7, Dec: 40:52, Optimal Scope Size: 125mm.

Like M77 before it, M32 gives the appearance of a fuzzy star-like core bleeding off into the murk. Again I recall the bright contrasty views seen of this small elliptical galaxy in Autumn. A view which looks very much like a small, distant, and intensely concentrated globular cluster at lower magnifications and begins to reveal ellipticity only as magnification increases.

M110 Andromeda, Type: Galaxy, Magnitude: 8.0 Size: 17x10' RA:00:40.4, Dec: 41:41, Optimal Scope Size: 200mm.

If M32 resembles M77, M110 echos M74. Unlike M74, I am just able to discern M110's large, low surface brightness ellipse with direct vision. Again, low sky position and the early hour, has robbed this fine study of its grandeur...

Earlier in Autumn, M110 would make a fine study through 150mm Argo. In many ways M110 actually is more interesting than its brighter confrere: M32. Its markedly elliptical shape is quite apparent and easily seen to orient along a north-south axis. A star-like point is hinted at on eye movement, but no distinct "core region" is seen. Unlike M32, luminosity blends continuously outward into the darkness of space. However, the western frontier does give a sense of "edge". (Although nothing like that seen where the dark lane breaks M31's northern face.) M110's also suggests a northern extension longer and narrower than the southern. This differ's from M32 which (at higher magnifications) extends toward M31 rather than away from it. Finally, I might notice a tendency for M110 to flare northwest on eye movement. Despite these hints of detail, M110 is best viewed through eight inch instruments, whose extra .8 magnitudes of reach reveals plainly what is only suggested in a six inch.

Again, and earlier in the season, I wouldn't have been content to view just these three main members of the M31 family. Two fainter satellite dwarf ellipticals are possible on a deep-sky kind of night. Both can be tracked down by first centering on M110 then shifting some five degrees due north to Omicron Cassiopaeia. By shifting Omicron due east about a degree, the more susceptible of the two galaxies (NGC185) can be seen forming a low triangle with a wide pair of 8th magnitude stars. Again shifting NGC185 slightly south and continuing another degree west may also reveal the more difficult NGC147 southwest of a large "rhombus" of 9th magnitude stars. Although it is possible to turn up the brighter of the two regularly in both 150mm Argo and the 80mm Pup, the sky must be a half-magnitude deeper to make out NGC147 definitively through Argo and a full-magnitude deeper through the Pup.

Thus ends my first swing to the northwest. Had the sky been less transparent, I would probably have made one more attempt to locate low surface brightness M74 in the region of Eta Piscium. But due to the fine sky, this was unnecessary. Instead, I head north and east to circumpolar Cassiopeia. Centering the main tube on Delta, I sweep the main tube one degree northeast to:

M103 Cassiopeia, Type: Open Cluster, Magnitude: 7.4, Size: 6' RA: 1:33.2, Dec:60.42, Optimal Scope Size: 100mm.

M103 is a small (5 arc minutes in diameter) group of 15 to 20 stars whose brightest components give the general appearence of a straightened out "Little Dipper". This particular dipper's handle points northwest and it's brightest half dozen stars begin at around magnitude 10. A sprinkling of 12th (and dimmer magnitude stars) may be seen to form a small chorus of lights through four inch and larger instruments.

While in the region of M103, and as an assist in locating my next Messier study (Planetary Nebula M76) I drop by 16 arc minute sized, magnitude 7.1 open cluster NGC663. NGC663 is larger in both apparent size and star count than M103. It is easily located about a degree and a half slightly north but mostly east of its more famous neighbor.. Through a three inch scope, some 2 dozen stars are possible but unlike M103, none really stand out. About half a dozen, on-the-edge stars form a crescent with a "bowl" oriented toward the southwest. Through six inch Argo, I would make out a "shower of lights" consisting of maybe thirty or forty mostly 11th and 12th magnitude stars of more or less uniform brightness.

Having centered NGC663 in the finder, all I need do is slew 10 degrees south and center on 4th magnitude Theta Persei. Using the main tube at lower power (say 70x), I sweep 1 degree north to:

M76 Perseus, Type: Planetary Nebula, Magnitude: 11.5, Size: 2x1' RA: 1:42.4, Dec:51.34, Optimal Scope Size: 200mm.

On this time and date, M76 lies about 35 degrees above the northwest horizon. 35 degrees seems a lot compared to earlier studies, but this low surface brightness planetary is a challenge for just about any scope when outside the skies middle third (the 60 degrees of sky centred directly overhead). Because of this, it might just be found using a garden-variety 100mm scope. Although I can acquire this vague, figure-eight shaped nebulosity direct, even when well positioned, its dumbbell-like shape is rarely seen without extremely averted vision. Personally, I am surprised that Monsiour Messier was able to even discover this very dim planetary with his poorly shaped and modestly apertured equipment. No doubt there were times of less than ideal seeing when he himself struggled to find it again and because of this may very well have even doubted its existence.

If I am at all surprised that Charles Messier was able to locate this dim 11.5 magnitude double-planetary, I am more surprised that he failed to turn up the not-so-nearby double-cluster that lies within the bounds of that same heroic constellation. I speak, of course, of the famed "Double-Cluster": NGC869 & NGC884. By 7:30, the night sky has darkened enough to show this wonderful pair as two faint patches of luminosity a third the way between the outstetched hand of Perseus (Eta Persei) and the lower star of the back of Cassiopeia's throne (Delta Cassiopaeia). Despite sharing a similarity of size (that of the full moon) and brightness (magnitudes ~4.5) these two give an oddly dissimilar view when compared within the same field at low magnifications through the 80mm wide-field Pup. One, (NGC869) shows a great deal of central concentration. While the other, (NGC884) seems to be caught in the act of dispatching many of it's numerous 9th and 10th magnitude member stars throughout space.

Having finished my reflections, I slew Argo due south 20 degrees to Alpha Triangulum. And through the finder, shift slightly north and three degrees west to:

M33 Triangulum, Type: Galaxy, Magnitude: 5.7, Size: 60X35' RA:01:33.9, Dec: 30:39, Optimal Scope Size: 150mm.

And of course, had it been late fall or early winter, this large, but low (13.7) surface brightness member of our own local group of galaxies would present a decent view through 150mm Argo - but only on dark sky nights. Any semblence of light pollution, haze, or lunacy renders it a "huge" disappointment. (Through just about any sized scope.) Ah, but on a deep night (say nearby 5.4 magnitude Epsilon Trianguli can be held unaided averted), the galaxy shows perceptible core-brightening and whirling face-on spiral arms extending east and west. On even darker nights these same dimly luminous arms can be seen to swirl off south and north respectively. By following the sweep of the brighter, northwestern spiral arm, it would also be possible to inspect a definite brightening: NGC604. Like NGC206 in M31, the view would be that of a detailed portion of another distant "island universe". Unlike NGC206, NGC604 is much more susceptible to view through small scopes - esepcially when the observer knows exactly where to look, and what to look for...

Skydark has descended. From now to dawn, I'm in my "deepsky comfort zone". For now the sky has fully embraced the stars. Though there will be other occasions when I must turn Argo to light upon setting studies, I now work a part of the sky that is out of that particular danger.

Although my next study is never particularly well-placed, it can be found by first locating 2nd and 3rd magnitude Alpha and Beta Leporis beneath the Hunter's feet. Pointing the barrel of the scope the same distance separating the two on a line south-southwest, I switch over to the finder and look for a faint fuzzy star - but no luck. Again low sky position (some 15 degrees above the southwest horizon) has made detection difficult. So switching to the main tube and one degree field eyepiece (50x), I use a figure-eight search pattern to locate:

M79 Lepus, Type: Globular Cluster, Magnitude: 8.0, Size: 9' RA: 5.24.5, Dec:-24 33, Optimal Scope Size: 150mm.

On such a night M79 would display a 3 arc-minute sized irregularly-shaped core. Surrounding this, and distributed outward to a suprising distance, 150mm Argo would reveal perhaps a dozen 13 plus magnitude outlying cluster members. Few other globular clusters show such a gap between core and resolvable stars on the margins.

Confidently, I slew the scope to the middle of the Hunter's dangling sword. A quick correction through the finder, followed by the switch to the main tube reveals:

M42 Orion, Type: Bright Nebula, Magnitude: 4.0, Size: 66x60' RA: 5.35.4, Dec:-5 27, Optimal Scope Size: 50mm.

I switch over to 120X. Just past the Trapezium lies a "cliff of darkness". Here the more or less uniform brightness of the nebula's core gives way to beautiful, undululating, tenous folds of detail. A scene as engaging as any possible through the eyepiece of amateur equipment anywhere in the heavens.

After exploring the curdled rifts of the bright nebula, I return to the Trapezium. With the least effort, the faint point-like glimmer of a fifth trapezium member is possible - projecting away from the two dimmer Trapezium members to the west. A sixth "F" member can just be seen just trailing the brightest of the four stars to the east. So on this particular night I can just hold E, and strain at F while the Celestial Hunter drifts south and west along with the Earth's implacable rotation.

Switching back to 50X, the "eagle-like wings" of dark nebulae now capture attention. This "dark expanse" is every bit as striking as the bright core that it flanks. Had the night been even darker a hint of "ruddy pink" is possible at the fringes. Glorious!

In the same field (slightly north and east) is a 5th magnitude star ensconsed in nebulosity. This is:

M43 Orion, Type: Bright Nebula, Magnitude: 7.0, Size: 20x15' RA: 5.35.6, Dec:- 5 16, Optimal Scope Size: 100mm.

Due to its neighbor's magnificence, M43 is easily overlooked. But almost half of its 20X15 arc-minute extent can be caught directly. Frankly most observers see M43 as simply a recrudescence of bright nebulosity erupting through the dark obscuration that borders M42 to the northwest. On extreme aversion of sight, M43 nearly doubles in apparent size. On this particular evening through six inch Argo at 50x I am just able to directly hold the "nautilus" shape that makes M43 especially worth dwelling on.

Drawing myself away from the siren call of M42 and M43, I locate Zeta Orionis. Dwelling on the Zeta region momentarily in the main tube, I easily make out the glow of nebulosity around one of two 8th magnitude stars just southeast. This is NGC2023. I can also make out the dark lane bisecting the two brightest lobes of NGC2024. On the very best seeing nights, the tripartite nature of this dim reflection nebula is revealed in all it's "subtle magnificence". The Flame Nebula is one of those "Cheshire Cat" denizens of the night sky, whose beauty is enhanced immensely by its coy susceptibility.

Like many of the brighter stars, the ancients bequeathed a name on Zeta Orionis: Alnitak. But such a name is not the only thing to mark its uniqueness. Alnitak's light is actually the blended luminosity of two stars (magnitudes 2 and 4) separated by less than three arc seconds. A third, dimmer, line-of-sight star, can be seen in the vacinity. This magnitude 9.5 "come" can just be held one arc-minute from the brighter, closer pair at 50x. By dropping in the 120x eyepiece, all three stars are clearly visible. The brighter pair showing two unevenly sized virtual disks neatly separated by a pencil thin line of space, while the fainter third star opposes the dimmer of the closer pair to the north.

Returning to the finder, I slew due north two and a half degrees to a 6th mag star (between a pair of more distant and brighter 5th mag stars). Through the main tube at 70X, I continue two degrees due east to:

M78 Orion, Type: Bright Nebula, Magnitude: 8.0, Size: 8x6' RA: 5.46.7, Dec: 00 03, Optimal Scope Size: 125mm.

It's now about 7:45. The sky is visibly darker overhead. But even during this last 15 minutes the spinning earth has noticeably shifted the position of the stars. I peer due south to pick out 1st magnitude Procyon on the central meridian. Centering Procyon in the 7x35mm finder, I slew due south twenty degrees to position the brighter of two nebulous patches in the crosshairs:

M47 Puppis, Type: Open Cluster, Magnitude: 4.5, Apparent Size: 30' RA: 07 36.6, Dec:- 14 30, Optimal Scope Size: 75mm.

M47 is at greatest northern extension at this hour. The cluster contains a dozen or so scattered 7th or 8th magnitude stars oriented north-south across a half-degree of sky. Perhaps five dozen dimmer stars are seen distributed in small groups. A 10 arc-second, 8th magnitude double-star takes a post slightly west of the center of the field. The largest group of brighter stars accompany the double. Although M47 is easily caught in the finderscope, it's neighbor, some one degree to the southeast, is more difficult:

M46 Puppis, Type: Open Cluster, Magnitude: 6.1, Apparent Size: 27' RA: 7 41.8, Dec:-14 49, Optimal Scope Size: 150mm.

While enjoying this lovely cluster, I manage to catch a patch of nebulosity near an 11th magnitude star about 10 arc-minutes northeast of M46 core. Due to the presence of so many stars in the field, NGC2428 is a challenge to hold visually through a 150mm scope at 50x. Despite this, the 10.1 magnitude one arc-minute sized planetary "ring" is a special treat especially when you consider the lovely field of stars that frame it.

Despite an inner commitment to avoid haste in making this tour, I still feel a bit "pressed for time". Had this not been the case and before completing my southern descent through Puppis, I would have dropped three degrees due south of M46 to eleventh magnitude planetary nebula NGC2440. There I'd have the pleasure of a high power view of a fine quarter arc-minute sized blue-green wraith of luminosity surrounding a bright central core.

M93 Puppis, Type: Open Cluster, Magnitude: 6.2, Apparent Size: 22' RA: 7 44.6, Dec:-23 52, Optimal Scope Size: 150mm.

M93, like M47 is easily seen in the finder. Its sharply rectangular appearence resolves to a flattened letter X in the main tube. The X is made up of group of about a dozen 8 plus magnitude stars. These orient northeast to southwest. The cluster appears broken by dark intervening nebulosity. A swatch of dimmer stars "hooks" off the southeastern end of the X. Fewer stars are seen than in M46. Although many are brighter than the brightest seen in the earlier cluster.

The early evening challenges are behind me. It's now almost 8:00pm. The sky is as dark as it's going to get (except perhaps later after midnight as lights from nearby population centers toggle off). As night progresses, the ever-turning Earth will orient to one cosmic denizen after another. If I maintain the current rhythm, my optic nerve will be filled with the light of numerous "Opus Caelum". Each with it's own special appearance, character, and neighborhood of stars.

Overhead the sky is now inky indigo-black. Using unaided vision, stars to magnitude 5.5 can be seen in and near the bowl of the Big Dipper. This explains why some very difficult objects could be seen less than an hour after sunset. Hopefully, there's a good chance that other equally-difficult studies can be viewed successfully on the flip side of the night. But, its better to stay in the moment. To find one hundred nine DSO's in a single night means that a new study must be acquired every five or six minutes. Early in the evening, many threaten to fall over low trees to south and west. Later, toward morning, it's anyone's guess as to whether remaining "celestial stragglers" will outpace the first rays of the rising Sun.

Such a pace can make the challenge of celestial navigation a "fool's errand". For with mounting tension, uncertain skills easily become a comedy of errors. Guide stars can be mis-identified, east becomes west, eyepieces misapplied. All this is made more even more challenging by the fact that I must constantly offset the tendency to "find it and leave it". Tonight is not about ticking off a series of objects on a checklist. It's about becoming intimately aware of the progress of the night sky. Especially as that sky progresses through the seasons of the year. Surely, it is better to see a few studies well, than many in wild abandon...

Time to head north again. There to locate Gamma Andromedae. There to take pause to enjoy this lovely 10 arc-second separated yellow and "blue" double. Had I the time, I would also install the barlow lens and make an effort to resolve the bright yellow component as well. But at .5 arc-seconds, the best I might expect would be to see a slightly "distended" airy disk suggestive of two stars on the very limits of distinction.

Instead, and at 50x, I slew some three degrees east in hopes of garnering a look at the large (13 X 3 arc minute), faint (13.8 ASB), edge-on spectre of a galaxy NGC891. NGC891 is probably the number one argument any amateur astronomer can make to convince me, (an avowed scopist), that "aperture rules". For you see only on the darkest of nights, with Princess Andromeda well overhead, have I had the rapturous pleasure of contemplating the full extent of this spectral beauty through six inch Argo.

And true to form, I must abandon this incidental quest and continue my sweep. So taking up the view through the finder I continue another seven degrees east and slightly north to a faint glow against the night sky. There I center on:

M34 Perseus, Type: Open Cluster, Magnitude: 5.2, Size: 35' RA: 2:42:0, Dec:42.47, Optimal Scope Size: 125mm.

M34 itself is seen as thirty or forty easily detected 10th and 11th magnitude stars. Most arrange in a "cruciform" pattern oriented along the north-south axis. Other bright stars encircle this cross.

I find myself intrigued by the "circumscribed cross" pattern. But again, due to low sky position, few of the nearly one hundred 10 - 13th magnitude stars possible within it (during its December season) are visible.

The rhythm is relentless. I am Salinger's "Catcher in the Rye", salvaging stars before they plunge over the cliff. I act as though I could detain them with my eye. But no, this is an impossibility. For even as I view the cluster the scope is shifted to track the motion.

Despite the constant westward march of the stars, I again turn south. There to locate the brightest star of the night sky - Sirius. From Sirius and through the finder, I drop 3 degrees due south to:

M41 Canis Major, Type: Open Cluster, Magnitude: 4.5, Size: 38' RA: 6 46.0, Dec:-20 44, Optimal Scope Size: 75mm.

This brilliant open cluster is easily seen in the 7X35mm finder. (This despite the overpowering presence of -1.5 magnitude Sirius.) Interestingly, and irrespective of its "official" apparent size, M41 completely overflows the 50X 1 degree field. Several hundred 7 through 13th magnitude members are seen. In a smaller scope, and at lower magnification, the cluster takes on a "scarab" shape. Great arcs of stars suggesting "legs" may be seen. But not through Argo at 50x. Such expansive views are the special preserve of the wider field provided by the 80mm ShortTube Pup.

Looking up, I locate Sirius and Theta Canis Majoris to the northeast. Following the line formed by the two and extending it the same distance, I make out a trio of sixth magnitude stars oriented northeast. Centering on the middle star, I sweep 1 degree east to:

M50 Monoceros, Type: Open Cluster, Magnitude: 5.9, Size: 16' RA: 7 02.8, Dec:- 8 23, Optimal Scope Size: 125mm.

Although M50 is just resolvable at high magnification (132X) in the 80mm Pup, several dozen 10 to 12 plus magnitude stars are easily caught at 50X in Argo. Bumping the magnification to 120X through 150mm Argo easily doubles the number of visible members. The additional magnification also plainly reveals M50's "averted three-petaled rose" shape. A shape not even suspected in the smaller apertured scope - even at it's highest possible magnification.

A quick jaunt north, I easily pick out a vaguely dipper-shaped asterism leading the "V" of Taurus across the sky.

M45 Taurus, Type: Open Cluster, Magnitude: 1.2, Size: 110' RA: 3:47, Dec: 24.07, Optimal Scope Size: 50mm.

At 50X, Argo completely fails to reveal the essential unity of this very large, bright and open cluster of 3rd through 12th magnitude stars. In fact, the better view is through the finderscope. As such, a fine graceful arc of eight and ninth magnitude stars drops down from the northeast toward 3rd magnitude Alcyone. On any clear, dark night the 80mm Pup at 16X, shows considerable nebulosity extending well away from M45's brightest components. Argo's long focal ratio makes seeing such faint extended nebulosity less obvious. In sweeping over the Pleiades there is an almost palpable sense of texture to the background sky throughout the cluster.

Well east of the Pleiades, (but before Orion's uplifted club), I locate Zeta Tauri. After centering Zeta in the main tube, I sweep 1.5 degrees northwest to:

M1 Taurus, Type: Planetary Nebula, Magnitude: 8, Size: 6x4' RA: 5:34.5, Dec: 22.0, Optimal Scope Size: 100mm.

Planetary nebula M1 seems to show greater definition every time I visit. The planetary's core is considerably brighter than its frontier. An undefinable sense of "dissolution" can be seen at the limits. Like many deepsky objects viewed through amateur equipment, there tends to be a bit of disappointment about not making out the wispy, tenuous, filaments readily apparent in photographs and CCD images. But, on the very finest nights, they can be "sensed" without being seen. So through a truly dark sky, and even using quite modest equipment, there is more to Crab Nebula than "meets the eye".

After ingesting the Crab, I slew 8 degrees due east to 4th mag Eta Geminorium. Referencing the finderscope, I sweep 2 degrees northwest to find:

M35 Gemini, Type: Open Cluster, Magnitude: 5.1, Size: 28' RA: 06 08.9, Dec:+24 20, Optimal Scope Size: 105mm.

Set in a rich field of stars, over one-hundred M35 members are visible in the 20 arc-minute or so sized region. In shape, the cluster appears rather rose-like. Unlike cluster M50, M35's petals lay face on. Numerous arcs of 10 to 12th magnitude stars spray out to various directions. Switching to 120X reveals many even dimmer stars in the cluster. To get a sense of how clusters like M35 might appear at much greater distances, I slowly sweep south and west. There, near the southwestern edge of M35, I see a 5 arc-minute swatch of luminosity: NGC2158. The brightest stars in this small cluster are of the 13th magnitude. Using 120X, I can just visually hold a half-dozen of it's brightest members. In there sum they form a vaguely "triangular" shape.

Eight degrees northwest is Beta Tauri, (the base star in Auriga's irregular pentagon). After centering Beta in the finder, I continue another five degrees due north to a 5&6th magnitude optical double (Phi Aurigae). Switching to the main tube, another degree north brings me to:

M38 Auriga, Type: Open Cluster, Magnitude: 6.4, Size: 21' RA: 5:28.7, Dec: 35.50, Optimal Scope Size: 150mm.

Shifting a half degree north of M38 I take in a fine spray of about 2 dozen twelth and dimmer magnitude stars. Covering a region of about 7 arcmins, open cluster NGC1907 (at magnitude 8.2) is of a size with 8.6 magnitude NGC2158 near M35. However, this particular cluster appears much more soluable and is a better view for a six inch instrument. Both clusters really need the deeper reach afforded by 120x however.

Resuming the 50X eyepiece, I return to Phi Aurigae. From there a slow slew one degree east reveals a surprisingly bright and "globular-esque" nebula: NGC1931. This 11.3 magnitude 3 arc-minute study, is quite "round" in shape and sports a small group of stars in its midst. Two can be resolved at 120x through 150mm Argo. A third is hinted at. Larger scopes show a fourth. In fact, this particular bright nebula is probably in the early stellar nursery phase. Future amateurs - say some two or three million years hence - will probably rejoice in resolving a small, faint cluster comparable to the two NGC open clusters cited above.

M36 Auriga, Type: Open Cluster, Magnitude: 6.0, Size: 12' RA: 5:36.1, Dec: 34 08, Optimal Scope Size: 100mm.

M36 gives the general appearance of a Rubric cube seen in semi-profile. Perhaps 30 stars are visible. All are 9th magnitude and dimmer. Its smaller apparent size warrants a look at 120X. At a higher magnification, a shift occurs and the stars take on a "stick figure" shape. This, as a group of about a dozen stars capture my attention within the center-west part of the cube. No single star dominates M36. Like M38, M36 lacks the kind of stellar-density that most appeals to me as an observer.

From M36 I slew one degree south and three east. There to pick out a vague patch of luminosity through the finder:

M37 Auriga, Type: Open Cluster, Magnitude: 5.6, Size: 24' RA: 5:52.4, Dec:32 33, Optimal Scope Size: 125mm.

M37 is larger than M36, and more compact. Of the three Aurigaen Messiers, it has the largest number of visible stars (well over one hundred). M37 also displays voids and dark bands suggestive of intervening dark nebulosity. Visually, the cluster looks very much like a "bull's head". The bull's nose to the east while the horns tend west and north. A single 9+ magnitude blue white star "stands" between the bulls eyes. Swarms of 10 - 12+ magnitude stars make up the head. The head's southern half is broken by a number of small dark regions. Further south, a single long dark band cuts off a small group of 11 and 12 magnitude outlying stars. The northern half of the bull's head doesn't show anything like the dark zones seen to the south. These zones, along with the general shape of the bull's head and horns, become more readily apparent when switching over to the 10mm 180X eyepiece. At 50X, the group appears "quasi-globular" possessing an unusually compact core. I like this cluster!

Another northern swing is complete and thus begins a new south sky excursion. Locating Procyon and Beta Canis Minoris, I follow their line southeast tripling the distance to 4th magnitude Zeta Monoceri. From Zeta, slew three degrees south and one degree east to:

M48 Hydra, Type: Open Cluster, Magnitude: 5.8, Apparent Size: 55' RA: 08 13.8, Dec:- 5 48, Optimal Scope Size: 150mm.

M48 is a large, vaguely suggestive group of about one hundred 8 to 12th magnitude stars. The cluster takes up three quarters of the one degree field of view. Toward the center, a group of a half-dozen 8th magnitude stars array in a tight "Y" formation. (The cup of the "Y" to the west-southwest.) Two large arcs of dimmer stars give a sense of round bowls flanking the Y-shaped group at the center.

The more northerly "bowl" is especially well delineated and is comprised of a ten arc-minute sized crescent of 10 and 11th magnitude stars. Two parallel trains of magnitude 10 stars lead the group to the west. A pair of 8th magnitude stars (oriented north-south) trail to the east. An arrowhead of stars point toward this trailing pair.

From M48 I swing 15 degrees due north to 3rd Magnitude Beta Cancri. (This shows up as a wide optical double in the finderscope.) Centering on the brighter of the two stars, I slew 2 degrees north and 6 west in the direction of fourth magnitude Alpha (another finderscope pair). Before arriving at Alpha, I note a fuzzy patch of light in the finder:

M67 Cancer, Type: Open Cluster, Magnitude: 6.9, Apparent Size: 30' RA: 08 51.4, Dec:11 49, Optimal Scope Size: 150mm.

Like M37 in Auriga, M67 is an example of a class of open clusters that are small, rich in stars, and highly condensed. M67 diverges slightly from the ideal by appearing an amalgam of two differing shapes. One (to the east), sprawls a bit north and south. This group gives the impression of an arrowhead pointing away from the more highly condensed and populous western group. That western region gives the appearance of an overturned bowl. Four smaller groups of stars within the bowl array like "tines" on a pitchfork. Like M48, certainly one hundred stars can be seen past magnitude 12. A peerless 7th magnitude blue star dominates the cluster to the west.

From M67, I reference the finderscope and slew 8 degrees north. Keeping my attention on the finder field some 2 degrees west, I easily catch the dozen or so brighter stars in:

M44 Cancer, Type: Open Cluster, Magnitude: 3.1, Apparent Size: 95' RA: 08 40.1, Dec:19 46, Optimal Scope Size: 75mm.

Like M48 and M67, Praesepe (M44) displays well over one hundred 5 to 13th magnitude stars. These spread out over a large (degree and a half) field. Brightest members distribute along the north-south axis. (This group was noticed through the finderscope on acquisition). In the center of this region, several stellar triplicities are seen. Two are quite angular and point in opposing directions (east-west). Careful inspection of Praesepe reveals a continuous gradient of ever dimmer and dimmer stars. Mottling of the background sky suggests many more stars are possible - well-beyond Argo's magnitude 14.5 averted vision reach.

I take a moment to assess the transparency of the sky. Swinging east, along a graceful ellipse of stars in the southern part of the field, I can just hold a favorite 12.7 magnitude test star at 50X. This tells me that the night's sky is very transparent. In fact, I should be able to directly see stars to magnitude 5.8 unaided. But of course, I selected just this spot to view from for it's large expanse of dark and steady skies to begin with!

I continue the momentum north. Locating the nose of the Great Bear (Omicron Ursa Majoris), I swing back toward Dubhe (Alpha UMA). Between these two, I pick up the fine double star 23 Ursa Majoris. The pair is quite wide (22.8 arc-seconds) and shows subtle color contrast. The 3.8 magnitude primary appears warm yellow, and trailing 9.0 magnitude secondary, aqua. From 23, I slew six degrees due north to 5th magnitude 24 Ursa Majoris. Centering 24 in the finder, I adjust east to easily capture a close pair of fuzzy lights in the field of view. Centering on the more southerly, I switch to the main tube and view:

M81 Ursa Majoris, Type: Galaxy, Magnitude: 7.0, Apparent Size: 26x14' RA: 09 55.6, Dec:69 04, Optimal Scope Size: 150mm.

M82 Ursa Majoris, Type: Galaxy, Magnitude: 8.4, Apparent Size: 11x5' RA: 09 55.8, Dec:69 41, Optimal Scope Size: 150mm.

In the vacinity are two other fainter galaxies. Both offer up views for a six inch instrument - but only on decent transparency nights. Less than a degree southeast of expansive M81, is 9.9 magnitude 5x4 arc-minute sized NGC3077. This face on spiral sports a hint of a star-like core within a three arc-minute sized aura of luminosity. NGC2976 is found about one degree east and a half-degree south of M81. Unlike NGC3077, there is no star-like core - only a gradual blend of light to space. Under moderate aversion, the entire listed 3X5 arc-minutes of this football-shaped galaxy can be made out. Despite this, it is no surprise that Charles Messier missed these two galaxies. Both should give optimal views through 250mm scopes beneath 5.5 magnitude skies.

M108 Ursa Majoris, Type: Galaxy, Magnitude: 10.1, Apparent Size: 8x3' RA: 11 11.5, Dec:55 40, Optimal Scope Size: 250mm.

M108 presents near edge on and has a definite core. It aooears similar to M82 but requires a larger scope to show texture. Perhaps 7x2 arc-minutes of the galaxy are visible with moderate aversion. 108's core appears about as bright as a 12th magnitude star. Overall the galaxy's contrast with the background sky is fine, but certainly not the equal of M82. A 12th magnitude star leads 108's tip across the sky. Two 10th magnitude stars, separated by about 10 arc-minutes, point at the galaxy from the west and slightly north. M108 is not lenticular - the commonly used term "cigar-shaped" describes it well.

Maintaining the view through the main tube, I continue one degree further southeast to:

M97 Ursa Majoris, Type: Planetary Nebula, Magnitude: 11.2, Size: 3' RA: 11 14.8, Dec:55 01, Optimal Scope Size: 250mm.

M109 Ursa Majoris, Type: Galaxy, Magnitude: 9.8, Apparent Size: 8x5' RA: 11 57.6, Dec:53 23, Optimal Scope Size: 250mm.

Like many obliquely oriented galaxies, M109 appears elongated. Unlike the edge-ons, there is little sense of a frontier. On this particular evening, some east-west extension is seen however. At galaxy central is a faint 12.5 magnitude star-like core. Surrounding this, a large dim (maybe 3X5') "para core" region. The galaxy's low surface brightness (magnitude 13.5) begs for aperture. But increased visual sensitivity caused by eye movement detects a vague flashing south-southwest. A ten inch instrument should make this extension quite plain to the eye...

Centering on Delta Ursa Majoris, I sweep a degree and a half north and half degree east to locate 9th mag double star:

M40 Ursa Majoris, Type: Double Star, Magnitude: 9.0&9.6, Size: 50" RA: 12 22.4, Dec:58 05, Optimal Scope Size: 50mm.

Two questionable studies are found on Messier's list. (By this is meant two inclusions that didn't translate into Henry Draper's New General Catalogue compiled in the late 19th century.) One is entry number 73 - a small asterism of four stars in Aquarius. The other, M40, is a wide pair of 9th magnitude stars.

With an apparent separation of about one arc-minute, the M40 pair do not even meet the classical definition of a "double star" (35 arc seconds or less). To be complete however, any Messier tour should include a look.

In viewing this pair, I notice that the brighter member (magnitude 9.0) leads the dimmer across the sky. Though both stars appear blue, the 9.6 magnitude component shows a bit of a greenish hue. Nothing about the pair smacks of nebulosity through even very modest modern scopes. For this reason it's hard to fathom how they could ever be mistaken for anything comet-like. However, there are situations where even contemporary observers with fine equipment experience dim pairs as faint "mists" of nebulosity - "Monsiour, vous est excuzer." And, of course, there is always the possibility that there really was a comet present. (Although it's orbit would have been well-off "the beaten path" of the ecliptic...)

From M40, I slew due south 5 degrees past a 5/6th mag finder double then continue that same distance to a single 5th mag star. From there I switch to the main tube and descend 2 degrees further south to:

M106 Canes Venatici, Type: Galaxy, Magnitude: 8.3, Apparent Size: 18x8' RA: 12 19.0, Dec:47 18, Optimal Scope Size: 200mm.

In general, bright but expansive galaxies (such as M106) can be deceptively difficult to turn up in modest telescopes. This particular galaxy however, is an exception. Although M106 bears an average surface brightness of 13.4, it displays a bright star-like core and luminous core region. A few wisps of spiral arms are also possible north and south. Eye movement shows perceptible flaring to the east.

Like many elongates, galaxy M106 shows a starlike central core, dimmer - but obvious - core region, and under extreme aversion, an expansive halo. The galaxy as a whole, orients more or less north-south. An 11th magnitude star is seen about 10 arc-minutes south of the core and a 12th magnitude star 5 arc-minutes east. M106's core region expands eastward on eye movement. The western part of the galaxy seems more sharply delineated. Due to it's large size, very dark nights at low magnification are needed to see more of this galaxy. On such nights a subtle sense of structure is possible - even through a six inch instrument. But rare is the night when this is the case. Fortunately, such a night is upon me!

Beginning one degree south of Regulus, I slew due east roughly seven degrees to 5th magnitude 53 Leo. At 53, I switch to the main tube and make a low power scan a degree and a half north to find:

M96 Leo, Type: Galaxy, Magnitude: 9.2, Apparent Size: 7x5' RA: 10 46.8, Dec:11 49, Optimal Scope Size: 200mm.

M96 is not a difficult find - it's 10th magnitude fuzzy core readily gives it away. The galaxy extends over a roundish 5 arc-minutes with a slight east-northeast / west-southwest elongation. M96 makes up a flat triangle with a widely spaced pair of 10th magnitude stars (to the north). Switching to 120X, I confirm that the core lays at the center of the visible part of the galaxy.

M95 Leo, Type: Galaxy, Magnitude: 9.7, Apparent Size: 7x5' RA: 10 44, Dec:11 42, Optimal Scope Size: 250mm.

Returning one degree east and slightly north, I center on M96 once again and continue another degree north to:

M105 Leo, Type: Galaxy, Magnitude: 9.3, Apparent Size: 5x4' RA: 10 47.8, Dec:12 35, Optimal Scope Size: 200mm.

Galaxy M105 is smaller than M96 - say a roundish 4 arc-minutes, Its core is quite bright and gives a sense of elongation west-southwest. Like M95, 105 shows an offset core-central under higher magnification. In this case, to the north. A pipestem of 3 tenth magnitude stars oriented north-south is seen about 8 arc-minutes east within the same 50X field of view.

Very near M105 (and in the same low power field of view) is Galaxy NGC3384. This galaxy is such a close match in luminosity to the others that it is hard to conceive of Monsieur Messier missing it - especially given it's proximity to #105. Perhaps Charles thought he was seeing double that evening? In any event, most amateurs would include 3384 on their own private list of "Messier's that got away". With a roundish 3 arc-minutes visible, Galaxy NGC3384 is smaller than M105. Even so, a vague sense of northwest to southeast elongation is possible. Inspection at 120X shows a slight eastern shift to the core vis a vis the visible part of the galaxy. A bright 7th magnitude star leads NGC3384 across the sky.

From this close pair of brightish galaxies, I slew 6 degrees east to a single 5th mag star and center thereon. While monitoring at low power, I sweep one degree southeast to:

M65 Leo, Type: Galaxy, Magnitude: 9.3, Apparent Size: 10x3' RA: 11 18.8, Dec:13 05, Optimal Scope Size: 200mm.

Unlike members of the previous group, M65 (average surface brightness 12.7) and M66 (12.6) display almost edge on. Neither M65 or 66 show starlike cores as bright as M105. Both these cigar-shaped galaxies appear to "smear" their light more evenly across the core region. Both galaxies offer better contrast to the night sky than any in the more westerly group. Neither "bleeds off" the way face-on galaxies do. Both M65 and 66 offer up a very satisfying visual experience in a six inch scope on very good nights such as this.

M65 shows perhaps 3 X 7 arc-minutes of its 3 X 10 arc-minute apparent size. Basic orientation, north-south. With moderate aversion, a slight "halo" can be seen surrounding core central. A tenth magnitude field star lies about 5 arc-minutes due west and a 12th magnitude star is visible 3 arc-minutes south-southwest.

M65 is more nearly edge-on than its neighbor M66, but much less so than near by Galaxy NGC3628. M65 (like its neighbor) points more or less toward the large NGC. Unlike M66, M65's core can be held direct at low power. Eye movement catches a halo extending west. Of the two extensions, the northern one seems brighter and longer. There also appears to be a dark band truncating the galaxy to the east. This offers some closure to that frontier.

M66 lies in same field as M65 - slightly south and east. A tight group of four 10 to 11 magnitude stars is seen southwest of the galactic core. An interesting wishbone of 10th and 11th magnitude stars lies north and east.

M66 Leo, Type: Galaxy, Magnitude: 9.0, Apparent Size: 9x4' RA: 11 20.2, Dec:12 59, Optimal Scope Size: 200mm.

Strangely, an even more intriguing galaxy is visible in this region. Located about 45 arc-minutes north, a ghostly shaft of diaphanous light can be found. Galaxy NGC3628 is a large (12X2'), lenticular edge-on. As such it hangs like a pale dagger in space. Averted vision reveals hints of edges: Harder to north and softer to south. A slight thickening is possible to the west and a thin extension to east. On a dark night, this 13.4 average surface brightness galaxy can be seen even through a three inch scope.

I center on 2nd magnitude Beta Leonis and slew due east 5 degrees to 6th magnitude 6 Coma Berenices. Centering the main tube on 6, backtracking less than a degree west reveals:

M98 Coma Berenices, Type: Galaxy, Magnitude: 10.1, Size: 10x3' RA: 12 13.8, Dec:14 54, Optimal Scope Size: 300mm.

M98 is the most difficult of all the Messier galaxys. Many NGC galaxies give finer views and are easier to track down. This 13.5 magnitude average surface brightness (ASB) galaxy is not easily approached even through a 6 inch. Using eye movement, a star-like core may be seen but outside that core-point, no true "core region" is perceptible. Maybe 2 by 6 arc minutes of this 3 X 10 arc-minute sized edge-on is possible. What might have been a core region is but an indistinct brightening. That brightening in turn, melds uniformly into wispy extensions that dissolve into space. Makes one wonder how ol'98 got to be on Messier's list at all. This, especially considering the fact that an earlier study of comparable surface brightness (NGC3628) didn't make the grade.

Before moving onto my next study, I reflect on some of the paradoxes of Messier's list and the sky from which it sprang. If, for instance, I were to put together a list of all possible galaxies that Charles Messier could have discovered, I would use M98 as the holotype of susceptibility. To compile this list, I would assume the brightest visible one arc-minute portion of any candidate is magnitude 12.0 or brighter and the average surface brightness would not exceed magnitude 13.5. Such a list could probably include nearly one-hundred Northern Hemisphere susceptible studies.

Given M98 as the most difficult of the Messier galaxies, it is clear that many more obvious and well-positioned candidates were missed (NGC3384 neighboring M105, for instance). No criticism is implied here. Charles Messier was a "comet hunter". He pursued his passion out of an avid spirit of adventure and discovery. Like many explorers, Charle was motivated by a mix of wonder, excitement, and personal ambition. His was not a "detached" scientific survey of the heavens. There were no "gridlines" drawn across star charts. He didn't make an exhaustive study of individual "boxed regions" of the sky. He swept the sky for "strange stuff" and when he found such, made notes to himself. Theses notes multipled and, at some point, Messier realized the need to get organized. So he made a list. Realizing his list was unique, Messier published. In publishing, Charles Messier assured himself a place in history as "the original deepsky observer".

Of course, I can follow this line of reflection because there is a bit of Charles Messier in me. In a sense, I can see myself doing exactly the same thing. I can imagine being mysteriously transported to another galaxy, along with Argo and the Pup. Above me is a fresh, new, unique, and mysterious night sky. Initially, I'd explore whimsically. Wonder after wonder would be revealed. Soon I'd become overwhelmed and start making notes and charts. Knowing that the Cosmos displays a certain "universality", I would already have a relatively sophisticated understanding of what I was looking at. My observations would necessarily be "categorical" - nebulae, clusters, galaxies etc. Sooner or later the human in me would begin to brood about Earth, Sun, and Milky Way. Then I'd probably set out to locate "home" in the heavens. This would bring focus to my undertaking. Thus a science is born.

These lines of reflection complete, I return to 6 Coma Berenices and sweep one degree southeast to:

M99 Coma Berenices, Type: Galaxy, Magnitude: 9.8, Apparent Size: 5' RA: 12 18.8, Dec:14 25, Optimal Scope Size: 250mm.

This football shaped galaxy is an easier study than M98. Part of this is due to the fact that at magnitude 9.8 and 5 arc-minute apparent size, M99 has an ASB .5 magnitudes brighter than M98. M99 shows a star-like core, distinctive brightish core region, and wispy extensions. This galaxy is nominally "round". To me, slightly elongated. This may be due to a possible truncating dark band northwest. The remainder of the galaxy extends south-southwest to north-northeast. In all, about 3 X 4 arc-minutes of the galaxy is visible. Some, only as I move my eye across the field of view. Photgraphs of M99 show an elongated core region. By including it's dim spiral arms in measurements, the galaxy's dimensions expand to a round 5 arc-minutes. This accounts for the elongated appearance.

Returning to the finderscope, I backtrack to 6 Coma Berenices and follow a line of three 5th/6th magnitude stars northeast. Centering on the third star in the line (which includes 6 itself), I switch to the main tube and continue one-half degree northeast to:

M100 Coma Berenices, Type: Galaxy, Magnitude: 9.4, Apparent Size: 7x6' RA: 12 22.9, Dec:15 49, Optimal Scope Size: 250mm.

At magnitude 13.1 ASB, M100 is surprisingly easy on a dark night. Despite its luminosity, it does not display a star-like core but simply dims uniformly inside out. Unlike M99, M100 appears round. On eye movement a bit of flaring is seen along an east-west axis. Despite this flare, the galaxy pretty much retains its circular appearance.

M100 is attended by at least two, small (1 arc-minute), faint (13.5 plus magnitude), companions. One is magnitude 13.9 NGC4322. And the other 13.5 magnitude NGC4328. NGC4322 is located just north of the main galaxy, NGC4328 southeast. Both galaxies displace about 1 arc-minute of apparent size. Careful inspection at higher magnification (say 120x) just reveals the brighter attendant using moderate aversion. Such one arc-minute sized, 13.5 magnitude galaxies lie right on the limit of a 6 inch instrument and typically require a great deal of homework be done in advance of observation.

To locate my next study, I continue 4 degrees northeast to the lovely, low power double 24 Coma Berenices. The brighter pair star appears warm yellow, while the secondary is gold. High power binoculars would find this a nice challenge double. But tonight is about Messiers, so I half split the difference between 24 and a 5th magnitude star 4 degrees west-southwest in the finder. Switching to the main tube I make out:

M85 Coma Berenices, Type: Galaxy, Magnitude: 9.2, Apparent Size: 7x5' RA: 12 25.4, Dec:18 11, Optimal Scope Size: 200mm.

At 12.7 ASB, M85 is the brightest of the four Coma Berenices galaxies seen thus far. M85's stellar core can be held direct - even at 50X. Surrounding this star-like point is an elongated core region blending into wispy extensions along a south-southwest to north-northeast axis. Perhaps 5X3 of this 7X5 arc-minute sized galaxy is possible. During eye movement, wispy extensions flare west-southwest.

In locating M85, I catch a second, one magnitude dimmer galaxy 10 arc-minutes due east. M85's companion is roundish and about half 85's apparent size. It's published magnitude (10.9), and apparent size (4 arc-minutes) gives it an ASB of magnitude 13.6. Although I've located dimmer galaxies through 6 inch Argo, NGC4394 is the dimmest one "discovered" by chance. Even so, the galaxy is quite obvious and requires no special "visual trickery" to make out. It is likely that, as personal experience grows, galaxies to magnitude eleven and beyond may be susceptible to serrendipitous discovery through a six inch scope such as Argo.

From M85, I drop due south 6 degrees and pick out a neighboring pair of matched brightness galaxies.

M84 Virgo, Type: Galaxy, Magnitude: 9.3, Apparent Size: 5x4' RA: 12 25.1, Dec:12 53, Optimal Scope Size: 200mm.

While contemplating this pair, two ideas of some intrigue surface. First, after turning up a few of the brightest galaxies in the region, Charles Messier went off to explore elsewhere. This left Messier's associate (Pierre Méchain) the opportunity to harvest the twelve remaining bright galaxies (M88 - M100) found there. It would appear that Charles Messier wasn't into mopping up!

Second, and more uniquely, is the fact that the M84/86 locale bears a resemblence to the Hubble Deep Space Galaxy Field - a region of intense galactic concentrations on the very edge of the HST's photographic reach. As such, this region is the amateur's "Not-So-Deep Space Galaxy Field". By lavishing time and attention thereon, one can make of it "The Galaxy Field of Dreams"...

M84 is the western member of the M84/86 pairing. Of the two, it is the slightly brighter and visibly smaller. At ASB 12.2, M84 is also brighter than the previous study M85 - while M86 is slightly dimmer (ASB 12.9). M84 shows maybe 3 arc minutes of face on presentation. Like M85, it displays a star-like nucleus surrounded by a bright core enshrouded with wispy nebulosity. During eye movement, M84 seems to swell in every direction. No flaring to any particular direction is detected. Quite globular-clusterlike actually.

M86 Virgo, Type: Galaxy, Magnitude: 9.2, Apparent Size: 7x6' RA: 12 26.2, Dec:12 57, Optimal Scope Size: 200mm.

As noted, M's 84 and 86 dwell in a galaxy-rich region of space. Within the same 40 arc-minute field of view, and with a little effort, a six inch scope can reveal at least three other galaxies.

Forming a nice (almost equilateral) triangle with the two Messier's (about 20 arc-minutes south) is NGC4388. At magnitude 11.0 and 5X1 arc minute apparent size, this edge-on spiral has an ASB of 12.4. As such you'd think it would show as much structure as the brightest of the Messiers. But this is not the case. All that is possible is to get a sense of NGC4388's spatial orientation (east-west) and size (maybe 3/4 X 3 arc-minutes). While moving the eye around the field, a dim, star-like core of the 13th magnitude is possible.)

At magnitude 12.0, 2x1 arc-minute sized NGC4387 also has a 12.4 magnitude average surface brightness galaxy. 4387 is conveniently located in the midst of a triangle formed by the two Messiers and NGC4388. Despite its relatively bright ASB, NGC4387 requires 120X for definitive detection - especially on marginal nights of seeing. Even so eye movement does give the galaxy a hint of a stellar nucleus.

It has been my experience that locating one arc-minute sized galaxies often requires higher magnifications. At lower overall magnitudes, their small cores are often indistingushable from faint stars. Increased magnification darkens the night sky and spreads the light out enough to make recognition possible. The eye is also sensitive to "size" as well as contrast, and luminosity. For these reasons, higher magnifications are often needed when attempting to track down dim galaxies approaching 1 arc-minute in extent and magnitudes near a particular apertures limit for sky conditions.

About 10 arc-minutes north of M86 is a dim swatch of nebulosity - NGC4402. Bearing an ASB of magnitude 12.9, galaxy 4402 appears quite ill-defined. Like NGC4387, 4402 requires 120X for confident detection.

East of M86 are two brighter NGC galaxies - 4435 and 4438. 4435 is roundish (3X2 arc-minutes) and bears a visual magnitude of 10.8. 4438 is larger (9 X 3) and cumulatively brighter (10.1). At ASB 12.4 and 13.4 ASB respectively, neither are particularly difficult. And there larger apparent size supports lower magnifications nicely.

From the "Not-So-Deep Space Galaxy Field", I sweep a degree and a half east-southeast to:

M87 Virgo, Type: Galaxy, Magnitude: 8.6, Apparent Size: 7' RA: 12 30.8, Dec:12 24, Optimal Scope Size: 200mm.

This round, 4 arc-minute sized galaxy is visible about 8 arc minutes south of a 9th magnitude blue star. Its bright star-like center can be held direct at 50X. The surrounding core region perhaps one arc-minute in radius. That core region is, in turn, accompanied by wispy excursions flaring southwest. Switching to 70X (which often darkens a marginal sky), I notice a curve proceeding clockwise west to southwest. The is the first of the Coma-Virgo galaxies to show evidence of a spiral arm on this tour. No counter- spiral is visible (on the far side of the core).

About 10 minutes west-southwest of M87 core, I catch a second "baby galaxy" (not a dwarf) of the evening. This one turns out to be: Galaxy NGC4478 Virgo, Magnitude: 11.2, Size: 2', ASB: 12.4. NGC4478 gives a sense of central brightening plus faintish wisps to south and west on eye movement. Some aversion is required to get any sense of detail - and this at 70X. However, like NGC4312 earlier, Galaxy 4478 looks like a smaller, dimmer version of a Messier galaxy.

By bumping the magification to 120X, I make out an even dimmer galaxy some 7 minutes west of M87 core. This galaxy (12.3 magnitude NGC4476)is a tough find for a six inch through garden-variety skies. On this particular night, use of higher magnification helps make its presence obvious...

I again drop in a low power, one degree field eyepiece then sweep the sky one and a half fields due east:

M89 Virgo, Type: Galaxy, Magnitude: 9.8, Apparent Size: 4' RA: 12 35.7, Dec:12 33, Optimal Scope Size: 200mm.

Complicating the view of M89 is a bright 7th magnitude star some 10 minutes due west. Despite this, M89 remains relatively bright, circular, and small (3 arc-minutes in diameter). It displays all the basic features I've come to know and appreciate in the brighter Messier galaxies: Starlike point, core region, and wispy annulus. On eye movement a slight lenghthening can be seen along the east-northeast / west-southwest axis. To my pleasure, there is also the barest suspicions of a faint, curling spiral arm. Like M87, M89 sports real structure and merits some serious study time on a good dark night such as this...

M88 Coma Berenices, Type: Galaxy, Magnitude: 9.5, Apparent Size: 7x4' RA: 12 32, Dec:14 25, Optimal Scope Size: 200mm.

Like most galaxies in the M8X series this one displays fine contrast with the night sky. In viewing M88 at 70x, I see a bright center surrounded by an "edge on" presented core region. Outside that region wispy extensions can be traced north-northeast and south-southwest. Under eye movement some flaring occurs southeast.

M91 Coma Berenices, Type: Galaxy, Magnitude: 10.2, Apparent Size: 5x4' RA: 12 35.4, Dec:14 30, Optimal Scope Size: 250mm.

Like M87, M91 is a face on spiral. In general such studies are less than favorably seen at 6 inches of aperture. At best I can just hold a dim starry core with averted vision. Otherwise, this 3 arc-minute sized face-on rapidly dissipates at the frontier. An occasional flare can be seen during eye movement extending south-southeast.

Referencing the main tube at low power, I drop two and a half degrees due south and pick out:

M90 Virgo, Type: Galaxy, Magnitude: 9.5, Apparent Size: 9x5' RA: 12 36.8, Dec:13 10, Optimal Scope Size: 250mm.

This large, relatively faint Messier galaxy forms the pinnacle of a right triangle south of a pair of 11th mag field stars. The galaxy is visibly elongated with a sharper edge to the west. The smallish core region has no starry point. The galaxy seems more rounded to east. Overall, M90 distributes its luminosity out nicely for all its 13.4 magnitude average surface brightness.

Roughly two degrees due south of M90, is an even lower numbered series of galaxies from Messier's list. In making the drop through the main tube I come across two small, bright galaxies of a size, oriented along a east-west axis. My attention is drawn to the western member of the pair:

Here I see a 3X5 arc-minute, football-shaped galaxy oriented east-northeast to west-southwest. The galaxy trails a 7.5 magnitude field star across the sky. A dim core point can be seen at 50X with mild aversion. M58 is flatter and more delineated to south and sports a perceptible northern bulge. Although faint extensions can be seen on axis, there is a slight flaring northeast at 70X. Even under marginal skies M58 gives a decent view.

M59 Virgo, Type: Galaxy, Magnitude: 9.8, Apparent Size: 5x3' RA: 12 42.0, Dec:11 39, Optimal Scope Size: 200mm.

This galaxy forms the "crutch" of a small right triangle with a pair of 11th and 12th magnitude stars. On turning it up I detect maybe 2X4 arc minutes of football-shaped presentation oriented more or less north and south. Under moderate aversion and 70X magnification, I'm able to detect a core-point. Like M89, here is a rather compact galaxy displaying fine sky contrast: Core point, core-region and wispy extensions. On eye movement a slight flaring is visible east-northeast.

Continuing a slow sweep east, I encounter what may very well be the showpiece of the Coma-Virgo cluster:

M60 Virgo, Type: Galaxy, Magnitude: 8.8, Apparent Size: 7x6' RA: 12 43.7, Dec:11 33, Optimal Scope Size: 150mm.

Bright, large, elongated. M60's tips show curls indicative of spiral arms. 4X6 arc-minutes of this large spiral can easily be seen. The galaxy positions itself at the apex of a flat triangle with two 12th magnitude stars and offers excellent contrast with the sky. Like M58, a good view through a six inch scope.

I locate 3rd and 2nd magnitude stars Delta and Epsilon Virginis and follow that line to 5th magnitude Alpha Coma Berenices. Centering the finder, I look for a fuzzy star 1 degree northeast. This is:

M53 Coma Berenices, Type: Globular Cluster, Magnitude: 7.7, Size: 13' RA: 13 12.9, Dec:18 10, Optimal Scope Size: 125mm.

Although less than half M53's 13 arc-minute size is seen direct at 50X, there is a certain "roughness" about the cluster. This unresolved portion is quite luminous and gives an obvious "coming at ya" mound-like effect. Like most globulars, the cluster is not quite truly "round". A certain flattening is seen south-southeast. Eye movement causes the cluster's presentation to flare northwest. At 120X, scintillation of at least a dozen stars is apparent. On this night, and at higher magnifications, about a dozen members can be held direct.

One degree east-southeast of M53, lies 9.8 magnitude 11 arc-minute sized NGC5053. Possessing an average surface brightness of magnitude 14.8, little detail (beyond a faint 4 arc-minute diameter smudge) is possible in a six inch instrument. There is however, a certain satisfaction that comes with locating the cluster. But the night must be quite dark and eye well adapted to make this possible through a six inch scope.

3 degrees west of Alpha is 5th magnitude 36 Coma Berenices. Centering on 36, I slew 5 degrees due north and one degree west to 5th magnitude 35. From 35 another degree northeast leads to:

M64 Coma Berenices, Type: Galaxy, Magnitude: 8.5, Apparent Size: 9x5' RA: 12 56.7, Dec:21 41, Optimal Scope Size: 150mm.

Despite M64's large apparent size, the galaxy holds nice contrast with the sky. Framed within a pyramid of 8th/9th magnitude stars, I make out about 4X7 arc-minutes oriented northwest to southeast. The core shows a starry point - easily held at 50X. From this I suspect that the brightest part of the galaxy shines at about magnitude 10.0 (per arc-minute). This value lies about halfway between the average surface brightness of the galaxy and the integrated brightness of the galaxy as a whole. Surrounding M64's central point is a 2X1 arc-minute core region oriented along the major axis. The southwest frontier is well delineated, while the rest of the galaxy flares perceptibly to all directions on eye movement.

I back out of the eyepiece to locate 1st magnitude Spica. Using the finder, I slew due west some 10 degrees and center between two wide finder pairs. 4 degrees west of the second pair turns up:

M104 Virgo, Type: Galaxy, Magnitude: 8.3, Apparent Size: 9x4' RA: 12 40.4, Dec:-11 37, Optimal Scope Size: 125mm.

At magnitude 8.3 the Sombrero Galaxy has a lot going for it. First, at magnitude 11.9, it's average surface brightness lies well within the limiting magnitude of a 150mm scope at 50X. Second, the galaxy presents supremely edge on. Simply said, the Sombrero's contrast with the sky is superb and for it's size it has no peer...

Another thing that strikes me about the galaxy is the neighborhood. Some twenty arc-minutes northwest is a compelling "scorpio-shaped" asterism of matched 7th magnitude stars. Surely this is a recognized cluster of somekind - and a most unusually shaped one at that!

The Sombrero Galaxy is extraordinarily "present". Bulgier than most edge-ons, perhaps 2 X 7 arc-minutes of the galaxy can be held direct along an east-west axis. On this particularly fine night, a cap of detached nebulosity can be seen to the south while the northern region expands visibly into a dim halo of luminosity. One final intrigue: The Sombrero appears to have two star-like cores. One at the center of the len