Starhopping

A Brief Word about Star Hopping

     The method I use for locating each of our neighboring stars in turn is the traditional one of star hopping. I am well aware that for the majority of stargazers and amateur astronomers today, the preferred way of finding an object in the sky is to use go-to software or otherwise-computerized telescope mounts. And although I readily acknowledge that such tools do have their place, and are indeed extremely useful for some purposes, I nevertheless worry about their unintended consequences.

     I have long ago lost count of the number of times some otherwise quite knowledgeable and unquestionably experienced person next to me at a star party will point to a glaringly obvious star (for example, Arcturus or Vega) and ask, “Which star is that up there?” I can only (I hope unobtrusively) shake my head and (silently) wonder, “Why in the world are we out here, if we don’t want to learn the sky?” 

     One of the best (and most fun) ways to do so is to use star hopping to track down deep sky objects below the threshold of naked eye visibility. Nowadays to do so sounds vaguely esoteric, but there really isn’t anything fundamentally difficult about it. You just start by locating the constellation your target object is in, and then progressively moving from brighter to dimmer stellar guideposts, narrowing your field of view as you go, until whatever it is you were looking for is at last centered in your eyepiece. From then on, it’s merely a matter of using the appropriate eyepiece, a bit of averted vision (and maybe the right sky conditions), and voila – success!

     The rewards are far in excess of the effort demanded. I know of no better way than observing without reliance on mechanical aid or "go-to" software to get to know the sky intimately, to be able to call out the stars by name as they rise into view, to know seconds after going out what awaits you on any particular evening, to appreciate the rotation of the Earth as new sights enter your field of view while others relentlessly slide away. It adds immensely to the enjoyment of a night out when you can look up as the stars make their diurnal appearance and actually feel where you are in the galaxy, when you can grasp the great spiral arms arcing overhead or passing beneath your feet, when you can place the planets within the Solar System relative to the Earth at a glance. 

     Besides, one of the great, unsung side benefits to star hopping is context. When you allow your telescope to do all the searching for you, you may find your object more quickly, but you’ll miss the sights along the way. It’s like the difference between flying to New York and driving there. (Wait – maybe that’s the wrong example. All you’d be missing then is New Jersey!) But seriously, many of my favorite places to go in the sky began as things I hadn’t been looking for at all, but had discovered en route to something else entirely. 

     Telling my age here, but I am a child of the 1950’s and the 60’s. I grew up watching Alan Shepard and John Glenn blast off into “outer space”, and for years was firmly convinced that I would eventually be following in their footsteps (the result, perhaps, of too many hours of watching The Jetsons). To this day, I can still recall the day it finally (and painfully) sank into my then late-teenaged brain that it just wasn’t going to happen – at least not for me… But I also recall another happier day some years later, when (in a flash of realization) it occurred to me that I already was in space! The Heavens never looked the same after that very singular moment. There was no such thing as “outer space” – there was just the Universe, and our planet was in it. I had no need to go anywhere.

     Today, when I head outdoors for a night of stargazing, part of my purpose is to yet once again reacquaint myself with my place in that universe – to fix in my mind just where I am in relation to everything else. To do that, one needs to know the sky. Recently, one marketer of things astronomical has been promoting its latest go-to software package with the slogan, “Knows the sky, so you don’t have to!” Allow me to repeat what I wrote several paragraphs back, “Why in the world are we out here, if we don’t want to learn the sky?”

     One of the wisest books I know, The Little Prince by Antoine de Saint-Exupery, contains the following passage (which I have here slightly altered): "People no longer take the time to learn anything. They'd rather buy things ready-made in stores. But since there are no stores where you can buy what is truly important, people no longer have anything of importance ... It's the time you spend on something that makes it so important."

     Take the time. You will thank yourself afterwards.