Andromeda
Two and a half million light-years away, larger than our own galaxy, drifting on a collision course we will not witness.
On the eastern flank of Mauna Kea, two thousand feet above the trade-wind clouds, light pollution falls to zero. The Milky Way is no longer a stripe but a structure — dust lanes, the curve of the Sagittarius arm, the heart of our galaxy bright enough to cast a shadow.
Six objects we'll find first — between 7:42 PM (astronomical twilight) and the rising of the gibbous moon at 11:18 PM.
Two and a half million light-years away, larger than our own galaxy, drifting on a collision course we will not witness.
The rings are tilted 9° toward Earth this season — the Cassini Division visible as a thread of black at 220× magnification.
A stellar nursery 1,344 light-years out. Hydrogen and oxygen glowing under the radiation of the four young Trapezium stars.
Twenty-five light-years from us, the fifth-brightest star in the night sky, surrounded by a debris disk where planets may yet form.
We do not own a telescope made after 2008. The optics — Newtonian primary, Mak-Cass secondary, two refractors — are mounted on equatorial drives that we balance ourselves at the start of every evening.
Nothing here is automated. The guide finds the object on the star atlas, walks the scope across by hand, and you look through it the way Galileo did — without a screen between you and the photons.
I had read about the Milky Way casting shadows. Up there, on the third night, I saw my own — cast in starlight. I am still trying to write about it correctly.— K. Tan · The Atlantic · April 2024
Reservations open on the new moon and close when we fill. We are at three of twelve seats for the window of November 26 — December 4.