Contributed by: Bill Ferris Sunday, 8 Apr 2001 QUEST FOR 220 by W. D. Ferris 25 March, 4:56 AM The sky had taken on a dishwater gray palette. Of the few stars breaking through, none were anywhere near M30. I dropped my head to the eyepiece of my 10-inch Newtonian. Dos Titos, an anatomically correct feature of the Roskruge Mountain range, was squarely centered at low power. M30 was being bashful, hiding behind the southern Arizona landscape. One question remained. Could the 7th magnitude globular star cluster overcome the twilight as it had yesterday morning when this odyssey began? 23 March: 3:37 PM A red dust cloud billowed in the wake of my Isuzu Rodeo. I was driving south on a dirt road in the middle of absolutely freaking nowhere. That's the only way to describe this section of Arizona. There were two sights of interest. One was a white nub of a telescope dome discernable atop Kitt Peak some 35 miles to the south. The other was a pair of low-flying F-18 fighters out of Luke Air Force Base buzzing the rattlesnakes and scorpions. No matter, I wasn't there for the scenery. I was there for the observing. The All-Arizona Messier Marathon is an annual rite of spring. Each year since 1993, amateur astronomers from across the state have gathered to observe the entire 110-object Messier catalog in a single night. Hosted by the Phoenix based Saguaro Astronomy Club, the marathon is held each March on the Saturday closest to new Moon. That date is chosen because only during late March is this feat possible. The 2001 marathon was held Saturday, March 24. I was among the dozen or so participants who arrived on Friday. The observing site is a fallow cotton field. Years of neglect have produced a hard pack surface of fine-grained red dirt. Prickly scrub and the usual assortment of desert reptiles and animals sparsely populate the area. There's room for a hundred vehicles, twice as many people and their telescopes on the field. It's a flat frying pan of a place surrounded by mountains. Kitt Peak in the Quinlan mountain range breaks the horizon to the south. The Santa Rosa Mountains are a stone's throw from the observing site to the southwest. The Slate, Tat Momoli and Silver Reef ranges are ragged along the west to northwest horizons. Phoenix is about 50 miles to the north beyond the Sawtooths. The Silverbell Mountains lie to the east. Tucson lies beyond the Watermans to the southeast, 45 miles away as the crow flies. 23 March: 6:33 PM Tents, trailers and telescopes were dispersed across the cotton field as the Sun began yielding to nightfall. My 10-inch, f/4.5 Meade Starfinder Newtonian was parked in a little clearing just west of the main observing field. I wasn't being antisocial, just in search of good northwest and southeast horizons. The toughest objects to observe in a marathon are M74 and M30. M74 is a low surface brightness galaxy in Pisces. This face-on spiral sets to the northwest just as astronomical twilight falls. M30 is a 7th magnitude globular star cluster in Capricornus. It crests the Roskruge range at morning twilight. Both will be missed if you don't have low horizons. The observing list is also important to a successful marathon. The Messier objects are numbered in the order in which they were added to the catalog. If you attempted to observe them in that order, you wouldn't get very far before having to stop for the night. Most marathoners organize the objects in order from east-to-west in right ascension. This allows a methodical cruise through the catalog, beginning with objects that set shortly after the Sun and ending with objects that rise just before dawn. My sequence is built along the same logic, with one exception. I spend the first hour hopscotching around the sky, observing objects as they emerge from twilight. 23 March: 7:43 PM Friday night began as a dress rehearsal for my unconventional evening sequence. M45 in Taurus is first on the list. The Seven Sisters star cluster broke through the dusk as a diffuse extended object. Minutes later after the sky had darkened, several of the brightest sisters emerged. The Orion nebula, M42 and M43, are next. This stellar nursery, expansive and tangled against a dark winter sky, seemed a delicate mist of a thing against the last shades of daylight. My progress through the sequence was steady: M103 and M52 in Cassiopeia; M34 and M76 in Perseus; M31, the Andromeda galaxy, and satellite galaxies M32 and M110; M33, the Pinwheel galaxy in Triangulum; and M77 in Cetus. M74 is the last and most challenging of the evening targets. Although the Phoenix and Tucson light domes are prominent from this marathon site, they have little effect on the visibility of objects in the west. Nature's light, however, is another story. Dust in the plane of the Solar System produces a diffuse glow along the ecliptic called the zodiacal light. M74 sets into the heart of this glow. Difficult to begin with, M74 tests one's observing skill when viewed near the horizon where the zodiacal light shines brightest. I applied a variety of magnifications, averted vision and other observing tricks before successfully logging M74 at 8:10 PM. 23 March: 8:48 PM Darkness lay upon southern Arizona like a blanket. The quiet was disturbed only by an occasional voice drifting through the scrub. "Anybody want a look at the Eskimo?" If I had been back home in Flagstaff, snow pants, a winter coat and insulated boots would have been my attire. However, this part of Arizona is 6,000 feet and an entire ecosystem removed from the high country around Flag. I was comfortable in jeans, a T-shirt and Nike's. Returning to my telescope after a short break, I turned the page in my observing binder to the finder charts for the winter Messier objects. This group includes a fine selection of star clusters and nebulae. It begins with M79 in Lepus. The 8th magnitude globular cluster was easy to find. It stands just four degrees south and a skosh west of Beta Leporis. An hour later, I had successfully checked off M78, M1, M35, M36, M37, M38, M41, M93, M50, M47, M46, M48, M44 and M67. If that seems a chalky drone of a list well, that's the nature of marathon observing. My usual style is to spend at least 15-minutes with an object. I don't take written notes. Rather, I get to know a nebula by sketching it. But a Messier marathon is a different animal, entirely. Marathon observing is a race against the Sun. You've got nine hours to find everything in the Messier catalog. The objects are little more than checkpoints along the course. Each gets five minutes, no more. Find it. Confirm it. Move on. The Messier marathon is not everybody's cup of tea. I enjoy it as an observing challenge, a test of my skill with a telescope. 23 March: 10:26 PM Leo was in mid-pounce, high along the meridian. Thirty-five Messier galaxies are scattered within the spring constellations. This banquet is a galaxy lover's paradise. Five galaxies in the Lion, M95, M96, M105, M65 and M66, are served as appetizers. Moving into the northern sky, Messiers 81, 82, 108, 109, 106, 63, 94, 51, 101, 102 and 64 filled out the soup and salad courses. Along the way, I grazed on a couple of globular star clusters (M53 and M3), a hoot of a planetary nebula (M97) and the most boring object in the Messier catalog. M40 is a double star. The components shine at about 9th magnitude and show no color in my 10-inch Starfinder. How this object ever made it into Messier's catalog is beyond me. But it did, so who am I to complain? The guy put together the ultimate "best of" list of galaxies, star clusters and nebulae. He's entitled to one object that sucks. The Virgo cluster is the main course. M98, M99, M100, M85, M84, M86, M87, M88, M91, M90, M89, M58, M59, M60, M49, M61 and M104 are the ingredients. I wolfed down this meal in about 15-minutes. M68 and M83 were offered as after dinner mints. It was midnight. The banquet complete and my observing belly full, I headed off to my tent for some well earned sleep. 24 March: 12:03 AM A Messier marathon takes planning. What I hadn't planned on was observing all night, Friday. I stood outside the tent thinking, "Get some rest. Sleep the rest of the night and conserve energy for Saturday's main event." But then I looked up. A light breeze worked its way through my hair. Leo prowled the zenith. Cygnus was ascending in the east. Centaurus and the great Omega Centauri would be along the meridian in a couple of hours. It was a beautiful night and at that moment, I knew that I was about to embark on a ridiculous quest. I would attempt Messier marathons on back-to-back nights. =====END PART ONE====================== 24 March: 9:11 AM The heat in my tent was stifling. Thee hours ago, I had climbed into my sleeping bag, exhausted after successfully running a full Messier marathon. Now, unseasonably warm weather had escalated conditions inside this nylon sauna beyond human tolerance. The need for fresh air overcame my lack of sleep. It was too hot to cook. Breakfast consisted of a blueberry muffin, an orange and water. I brushed my teeth, poured cool water over my head and wrote an IOU to my beard. Dressed in shorts, a Green Bay Packers T-shirt and sandals, I stepped out into the day. The morning was spent migrating from one campsite to another in search of good conversation and, most important, shade. Lunch was simple, another orange. An attempt at a midday nap was a total failure. More conversation and shade seeking followed. The mercury had pushed into the 90s by mid-afternoon. At least the scorpions and snakes were keeping to themselves. 24 March: 2:37 PM The monotony of the day was broken by the unexpected arrival of an airplane. A Kit Fox made several low passes over the observing field before coming in from the northwest to set down. The landing was going well until the last 50-feet. The plane caught a rut, whipped to the left and almost flipped. Thankfully, the pilot and his passenger were unhurt. A crowd gathered to meet this daredevil. Someone asked the pilot if he was with an air show. "Not with a landing like that," he deadpanned. I offered that any landing you can walk away from is a good one. He didn't seem to agree. The landing gear was repaired with some assistance from our group. The pilot scouted a rut-free runway and, suffering nothing worse than a slightly bruised ego, took off in the afternoon heat. The whole drama lasted about an hour. Shortly thereafter, a line of dust to the north signaled the arrival of more marathoners. Friend and observing partner, Brent Archinal, showed up at 4:00 PM. Brent had intended to use his 10-inch Dob for the marathon but forgot to pack the struts that connect the secondary cage to the primary mirror box. Tucked away with his gear was a pair of 11x80 University Optics binoculars. They would prove up to the task as Brent successfully logged all 110 Messier objects during the marathon. 24 March: 5:23 PM I was mired in another useless attempt at sleep. The constant buzz of activity outside my tent was impossible to ignore. There were nearly 100 amateur astronomers and 70 telescopes spread across the cotton field. High cirrus that had permeated the sky all afternoon was clearing to the west. Perfect azure skies beckoned beyond the approaching front. The sky was clearing just in time for the marathon. Hunger filled my belly. Dinner was a three-course extravaganza. I had an apple appetizer, a muffin main course and an orange for dessert. At least it had cooled enough to fire up the Coleman gas stove. Everything was washed down with a mug of Country Peach Passion tea. Afterwards, I walked the field to meet the new arrivals. An impressive group of observers had gathered: event organizer A. J. Crayon, Brent Archinal, event co-organizer Jack Jones, Tom Polakis, Ken Schmidt, Brian Skiff and Mike Spooner among them. They had traveled from as far as London, Ontario. Four clubs from as many states and two nations were represented. Kirk Alexander and Jack Gelfand of Princeton, New Jersey, had marathoned from the Chiricahuas just two nights before. They planned a repeat performance this night. Despite having slept barely five hours in the last two days, I was starting to feel pretty good. The enthusiasm of this group was contagious. 25 March: 12:17 AM M74 was the only challenge of the early evening and the rest of the night had gone smoothly until now. Exhaustion had carried me to my tent for a nap at 11:00 PM. That was over an hour ago. My body was screaming for rest but the neighbors were in Virgo and in trouble. "Which one is M99?" His was the voice keeping me awake. "There are three galaxies, here, and I have no idea which one is M99!" It was a verbal attempt to exorcise the frustration that results from 30-minutes devoted to finding one object without success. It's a frustration I know all too well. I remember a fine June night in 1994. I was living in Wisconsin and trying to find M13 with my recently acquired Starfinder. I had observed this big, bright globular star cluster just a week earlier. But this night, the sky was unusually transparent. Hercules was hiding like a Cheshire cat amongst all the stars. I was 100% lost and totally frustrated. It took the better part of an hour but I found M13. I knew exactly how the guy outside my tent felt. But at that moment, I didn't particularly care. I was tired and desperate for sleep. Gradually, I descended into a shallow slumber. 25 March: 1:17 AM "I have no idea where this thing is pointed! How are you supposed to find these galaxies, anyway?" His voice rousted me from a dull impression of sleep. Had I slept? I wasn't due to get up until 2:00 AM but why delay the inevitable? I dressed and stepped into the cool night air to make some cocoa. Have you ever noticed the night sky immediately after you awaken? It's as though your eyes have become ultra dark-adapted. The sky had a gray mottled texture as if stars too numerous to count populated the heavens. The summer Milky Way reached northward into the Phoenix skyglow. M13 was an obvious naked eye object. I fired up the Coleman stove and set a pot of water to boil. Ten minutes later, I was nursing a mug of hot cocoa and enjoying the sounds of the night. A mocking bird was attempting to participate in the conversation next door. The neighbors had escaped the Virgo cluster and were taking a break, marveling at the fact that a galaxy could appear so fragile and small. "Imagine that, somewhere in M51, an alien is looking at our galaxy with his telescope. Would he notice the spiral structure? Would the Orion nebula stand out? Could he fathom how large the Milky Way Galaxy truly is?" Such are the mysteries that send humans to the desert with telescopes. They are impossible to answer but magnificent to ponder. 25 March: 2:02 AM Bolstered by the cocoa, I returned to the Starfinder to continue the hunt. The summer Messier objects include an impressive collection of star clusters and nebulae. M5 was next on my list. It's one of the finest globular star clusters of the summer sky. Next on the hit parade were M13 and M92 in Hercules. These were followed by M57, the Ring Nebula. M56 is the Ring's neighbor in Lyra and was next to be logged. M29 and M39, open clusters in Cygnus, were observed. The Dumbbell nebula, M27, was next and M71 followed. If the Virgo cluster is a challenge by virtue of the sheer number of galaxies encountered, then the clusters and nebulae of the southern sky are doubly difficult. You must sort through a tangle of deep-sky treasures while battling fatigue. This odyssey began in Ophiuchus with seven globular star clusters, including M107, M10, M12, M14, M9, M19 and M62. A jaunt through Scorpius netted M4, M80, M6 and M7. Moving into Scutum, I found M11, the Wild Duck Cluster, and M26. The Eagle nebula, M16, has an aerie in Serpens. Sagittarius is second only to Virgo in the number of Messier objects populating its borders. However, the Archer is second to none in the variety of majestic objects it harbors. M17, the Swan nebula; M18; M24, the Sagittarius star cloud; M25; M23; M21; M20, the Trifid nebula; and M8, the Lagoon nebula are found within the archer's realm. The hunt continued with the magnificent globular star cluster, M22. Six additional globulars, M28, M54, M70, M69, M75 and M55 were also captured there. Those 15 showpieces of the night were caught and released in less than 30-minutes. The time was 3:13 AM and I had observed 105 objects. Five objects remained. They are best viewed during the autumn months when Pegasus, Aquarius and Capricornus are well positioned for exploration. However, the Messier marathon demands that they be observed as sunrise paints the March sky. There was time for more cocoa before the final push. 25 March: 3:41 AM The cocoa and the anticipation of the finish line combined to help me find a second wind. I decided to walk the observing field with my drink. Snippets of conversation occasionally caught my ear. The words expressed thoughts that had been rambling through my brain just minutes before. "Center Antares and move two degrees west for M4...The Lagoon nebula is seven degrees north of the Tea Kettle's spout...Find Lambda Sag, look due west for M28 and a degree to the northeast for M22...Where the heck is M55?" An almost universal enthusiasm could be heard in those voices. How many observers were on track to get all 110? A dozen? More? Night began yielding to day. Time to finish this marathon. 25 March: 4:30 AM There was work to be done and not much time in which to do it. Twilight had arrived and the sky would be too bright to find anything in another 30-minutes. I turned the page in my notebook to the morning sequence. This was the homestretch. M15 is in Pegasus and conveniently located just four degrees northwest of 2nd magnitude Enif. The star was apparent to the naked eye through the ashen sky and M15 was logged within minutes. M15 and M2 are separated along a north-south line. M2 is 13 degrees to the south in Aquarius. Dropping three finder scope fields brought the 6th magnitude globular into view within the 8x50. Moments later, M2 was centered in the 10-inch and checked off my list. Dropping another finder field south of M2, I encountered 2.9 magnitude Sadalsuud. One more field to the south and two to the west brought me to Epsilon and Mu Aquarii. M72 sits 3.5 degrees due south of 5th magnitude Mu. Once centered on the 9th magnitude globular, a slight shift to the east brought into view the four-star asterism, M73. 109 objects observed. By now, only the brightest stars pierced the morning light. But one object remained —M30. 25 March: 4:50 AM I was confident M30 would be visible. I'd seen it nearly 24 hours earlier at the conclusion of my first marathon of the weekend. The challenge was getting to the right spot in the sky. Of the few stars breaking through the approaching dawn, none were anywhere near M30. I used my 8x50 finder and a series of moderately bright stars to make the trek from M73 to 4th magnitude Gamma (40) Capricorni. This star is important because it hangs six degrees due north of M30. I looked through the finder at Gamma Cap and carefully moved the telescope south until the star was about a degreeoutside the field of view. Then, I centered the twin peaks at the northern edge of the field. The 7th magnitude globular cluster was in hiding for the moment. 25 March: 5:05 AM Excited voices carried the news that M30 had cleared the mountains. I peered into the eyepiece. A notch between Dos Titos contained light blue sky. I shifted the Starfinder slightly to the west to pick up a nearby star. This landmark confirmed I was in the right place. Moving the 10-inch back to the notch, I saw a little patch of haze framed by daylight and the southern Arizona landscape. I smiled and waited a moment before letting out a "Yeah, baby!" If Brent Archinal, standing at his 11x80 binoculars just feet away, recognized my feeble Austin Powers impression, he didn't let on. Oh well, my enthusiasm was none the less for his silence. Though far from the best view I'd ever had of the thirtieth object in Charles Messier's catalog, this was definitely the most satisfying. Seeing M30 had culminated a weekend of hardcore observing. I had run two Messier marathons in as many nights. ======= CONCLUSION=======