Sunday 20 August 2023

To Capture a Sunspot: solar filters



Occasionally I post on social media images captured using one of my telescopes in conjunction with a high framerate astro-camera. The image posted most recently was of the Sun, specifically of sunspots; I have collected a lot of these images in the past few years. In part this is because we’re nearing a period of maximum solar activity in the Sun’s eleven-year cycle and there’s simply more to see, but daytime astronomy also affords benefits when trying out new bits and pieces – it’s so much easier to learn how to handle new equipment in daylight. My recent foray was a case in point; I had bought a second-hand 80 mm refractor (see endnote [1] for more information and advice) and was keen to test its features after weeks of poor weather, ill-health and general busyness. This is definitely not a post on expensive astronomical equipment however, almost the opposite in fact: my aim is to share with you how I capture images of the Sun safely without spending a lot of additional money. It is a direct response to the questions posed to me by a member of a local amateur astronomy club: “Did you buy a solar filter cap or make one? What solar film did you use?”

The very first vaguely successful image of the Sun I managed to get. It was taken using my first telescope and an entry-level astro-camera and the combination of high magnification and small camera detector size meant that I captured only a small segment of the Sun’s disc. However, it remains in the slideshow of background images on my PC because it gives an impression of size and of the Sun’s neutral colour. Look closely and you’ll also see the ever-present convection cells as the Sun’s near-surface rises and falls. I’ve put a few more details into endnote [2].

This brings up to the matter of solar filters: how to reduce the amount of light entering our telescope to a level that will neither burn our eyeballs nor fry our camera’s detector chip. I should note at the outset that I am not discussing in this post the more dramatic phenomena associated with the Sun’s surface – no prominences or flares etc. of the sort shown in the images here. These require highly specialised (and expensive) equipment which limits the light entering the telescope to a specific wavelength only. The bits and pieces I describe here will allow all wavelengths (i.e. all colours) to pass through, but at very low intensity. Indeed, the solar safety filter material I use removes 99.999% of the light; which means that only one part in 100,000 reaches the telescope and your eye or camera.

Hopefully, the following series of images will explain it all …
Shown above is the setup in my garden I used to capture the image in question, a closer view of the solar filter fitted to the front of my telescope and an inset image of the filter’s rear face. Notice that there is a second solar filter fitted to the smaller finderscope, which is used to help find the ‘target’, shown to the upper right of the central image. The orange-coloured filter holder is a lid from an old food container (I think it was bought full of dry-roasted nuts!) with its central part removed using a hacksaw and the edges smoothed using sandpaper. The diameter of cut-out disk is as close as I could get it to the diameter of the telescope tube. The lid rim’s internal diameter has been reduced slightly using a strip of material cut from some anti-slip matting, fixed in place using double-sided tape. The final filter assembly was a snug fit over the front of the telescope.

The essence of the whole DIY project is to find a tube that has some rigidity (enough to hold its shape when picked up) and has an internal diameter just larger than the outside diameter of the telescope in question. In the example above I have used part of the thick cardboard tube in which one might find a bottle of a certain single malt whisky: it just happened to fit nicely onto the 72 mm refractor I now use for observational astronomy and in my visits to primary schools etc. I buy high-quality solar film in A4 sized sheets since it’s a cost-effective way of fabricating several filter assemblies; it’s available from many stockists but I happen to use this one. You’ll also need some epoxy resin adhesive. (In passing, I note that there are pre-made solar filter assemblies also available to buy; a quick scan online suggests that they retail for about £50 and upward each.)

Having found a suitable tube and cut it to an appropriate length, the key next step is to attach the solar safety film in such a way that it is not creased or scratched. I have found that a thoroughly clean sheet of glass is a great help; I keep an unused glass shelf for all such work but a smooth and flat ceramic tile might serve, as would a kitchen worktop if you can find a section that’ll not be needed for a day. Leaving the protective backing sheet on the foil, place it on the glass surface, foil upwards. Now mix enough epoxy resin to be able to run a thin thread around the end of the tube that’s going to take the solar safety filter; try not to get any epoxy on the tube’s inner surface, although small amounts aren’t critical. Carefully lower the end with the epoxy onto the foil sheet, avoiding any twisting or sliding motion: the foil should have remained flat against its backing sheet and the glass. There’s probably no need unless your tube is exceptionally light, but you could gently lay something like a small hardback book across the top in order to apply even downward pressure if you wish. Now walk away and leave the epoxy to set. Once all that’s done you can cut away the remaining foil with a pair of scissors and store it for another day.

Small adjustments are probably needed to ensure the filter assembly properly fits the end of the telescope. For reasons rooted only in habit, I tend to do this as a final step despite the fact that it’s probably wisest to get all this out of the way before attaching the safety film. There are all sorts of ways of achieving this, depending on how many millimetres larger the tube’s diameter is than the telescope. It may require only a layer of tape to the inside of the tube (- the end away from the foil of course as one doesn’t want to risk damaging the safety film if anything comes adrift). A layer or two of anti-slip matting fixed using double-sided adhesive tape works well, but it’s easy to find self-adhesive strips of felt or neoprene online and these can also be very useful. Remember, you are aiming for a fit snug enough that nothing’s going to fall off accidentally but not so tight that filter-destroying force is needed in order to slide it onto the telescope tube.

Here’s a selection of the filters made thus far for telescopes of diameters from 50 mm (finderscopes and guidescope) to 150 mm in the case of my Newtonian reflector (- in that case, I used the ring from a cake baking tin that had lost its base to rust); I’ve also made filters for both my grandsons’ telescopes. All this was from two (or three?) sheets of solar safety film. Also shown in the image is a scrap of anti-slip matting and lengths of self-adhesive neoprene and of felt.

Now for some images …
The above are some of the whole-disc images of the Sun I have captured prior to the one shown at the top of this post. The numbers and the sizes of sunspots vary enormously. We’re approaching the peak of the current 11-year solar activity cycle (expected in early 2024) so it’s unlikely you’ll look at the Sun at present without seeing any. Given that one could fit 109 Earths across the diameter of the Sun you’ll not be surprised that the largest sunspot in the image top left is several times the Earth’s diameter. Each sunspot cluster is given a unique identifying number – often preceded by ‘AR’ for active region; you can look this up here. Sunspots themselves are regions associated with the Sun’s magnetic field as it protrudes from the surface. Their dark appearance comes from the fact that they may be 2000°C cooler than their surroundings. Look closely and you’ll also notice brighter regions: those around the darker sunspots are called plages whereas the lighter patches often seen most easily near the edge of the solar disk are faculæ; these are associated with hotter regions in our field of view.

If we take a closer look you’ll see that sunspots have a central dark region, the umbra, and a less dark surrounding area, the penumbra where temperatures are at an intermediate level between the umbra and the surrounding surface.

Even the smallest scraps of solar film left over from making a telescope filter can have their uses. I captured this sequence of shots of a partial solar eclipse using my phone with a piece of safety film covering the phone’s camera lenses. The quality is what you’d expect from a handheld phone in a car park several miles from my house, but it was a fun thing to try. However, see below …

This is a better view. It’s another partial eclipse, this time captured using one of my telescopes and astro-cameras. You may be able to discern the silhouette of some of the Moon’s mountain ranges as it clipped the Sun. We are extraordinarily fortunate in the fact that the Sun and the Moon both appear to us on Earth as discs that are about ½° wide – which is why the Moon can cover the Sun when suitably aligned. (By the way, if you hold your little finger out at arm’s length the fingernail end covers about 1° of the sky so it’ll easily cover the Moon; see here.)

Happy sunspot hunting 😊

1700 words + endnotes

Endnotes
[1] For an overview of telescope types and what to consider and look for when buying try these web sites: here and here. I hasten to add that, like other second hand astronomy items, I bought the telescope mentioned in my opening paragraph from someone I knew to be trustworthy; one has to be careful.

Starting out in astronomy need not be prohibitively expensive – getting into photography, or off-road cycling, or many forms of sport, … might be comparable. However, amateur astronomers often talk in terms of ‘falling down the rabbit hole’: if you get hooked by the hobby you’ll find that there’s a never-ending series of spending opportunities ;-) My advice is to think about what it you most want to do/observe and start your search from there, being aware that as your aspirations evolve you may want to upgrade. The above links are only two of a multitude of places to get advice; read them in order to get an overview, but there’s a huge benefit to be had if you can try things out and talk to experienced people face-to-face. My suggestion is that you join your local amateur astronomy society. I’ve had loads of support from the lovely people here and also here and here. Most societies have websites and/or social media groups and you’ll find members only too keen to answer questions and offer informed advice. See here or here for a list containing many such societies in the UK. (Please note that these lists are not completely up to date, but they’ll get you started.) Once you have some equipment of your own you’ll find another slew of websites and helpful social media groups and online videos dedicated to users of similar kit.

[2] We all know that the Sun is both large and massive, and that it’s hot. In terms of size, the diameter at its equator is about 109 times that of our beautiful Earth; it represents 99.8% of the mass in our entire solar system. Its core temperature, which is where the fusion reactions occur that generate its output, has a temperature of about 15 million °C whereas the Sun’s surface temperature is about 5,500°C. As one rises into the corona (its outer atmosphere) the temperature rises again to about two million °C. (See here and here. Thus, what we perceive from Earth is the ‘cooler’ surface, referred to as the photosphere. In fact, the colour we see is strongly affected by the Earth’s atmosphere and by the limitations of our eyes: light from the blue end of the spectrum is preferentially scattered as the mix of wavelengths from the Sun passes through – this gives us our blue sky and leaves the Sun appearing yellow-orange-red as it nears the horizon but blindingly white when it’s high in the sky (- don’t look!). Our eyes fail to give us its intrinsic colour; if we could look at it through protective glasses from a space station our eyes would perceive the Sun as a white disc.

One of the simple calculations I used to set for students in their foundation year was to use something called Wein’s Law in order to estimate the temperature of the Sun’s photosphere. All that’s needed is the wavelength of light at the peak of the Sun’s emission, which we approximate to the wavelength of green-yellow light. If you’re that way inclined, try it out using the link above. The same formula may be used to estimate the surface temperature of other stars, or indeed the temperature within a furnace – the physics is identical. See also Video 13 in my lockdown series ‘Physics in the House’.



Wednesday 2 August 2023

House of Treasures

 

One morning at the end of June I was sitting at a desk in Canterbury Cathedral’s Archives reading room. This was my first time in the Library/Archives, despite having lived and worked within a few miles of the place since 1985; it had taken the kind invitation of historian and retired academic Dr David Shaw – mentioned in my previous post – to bring about a much overdue visit. In front of me were all three volumes of Isaac Newton’s seminal work on the mathematics that govern so much of the observable universe; a work which, quite literally, redefined the way we understand our the world. Rarely have I touched such valuable documents. However, this is a digression and I shall relegate it to a postscript below*. This post is primarily about glass: specifically, glassmaking in England at the time of the Tudors and Stuarts ...

David has participated in several of my u3a science sessions over recent years, including the extended series I lead on the science, technology and art of glass; he had evidently fully discerned the extent to which I am fascinated with glass as a material. In his role as a volunteer at the Archives and Library he had come across a Royal Proclamation which began life in the reign of Elizabeth I and was then re-issued by her successors, as and when required, at least through to Charles I, to whose reign this particular copy can be dated (1615). The order, printed on two sheets of paper, forbad the use of wood as a fuel in the manufacture of glass. Evidently, so much high quality timber was being used in glassmaking that ship-building was suffering, either directly because of a dearth of supply or by virtue of the price having been driven up; this was, in its turn, seen as a threat to national security. Moreover, it was forbidden to commission from any source glassware made or formed using wood as a fuel; the document goes on to forbid the import of glass or glassware and to even to outlaw the trade in glass drinking vessels. The delegated enforcement of such a proclamation fell to the local authorities across the country, there being no police force at the time remember. Thus, multiple copies of the proclamation would be printed for distribution across England and Wales.

This is the ‘Proclamation touching Glasses’ (reference CCA CC/A/P/P/1/PR/48) at the heart for my visit to the Cathedral Archives. Unusually, but rather wonderfully in my opinion, Canterbury Cathedral Archives also holds and manages the city archives of Canterbury: were that not the case I may never have had this rare opportunity. (Sadly, a set of records relating to the county, being the archive of the Diocese of Canterbury, was removed from the collection some ten years ago and is now held by Kent County Council in the County Town of Maidstone.) The images shown above were created for me by the Cathedral Archives and are used with the kind permission of the Chapter of Canterbury.

The Tudor rose and the thistles in this illustrated opening letter ‘I’ tie the origin of the proclamation firmly to its period.

You’ll notice in passing, even without even reading the proclamation, that it takes a lot of words to convey what is a relatively straightforward message: it will come as no surprise to you that the people who drafted such legal documents were, I understand, paid by the word. There was however a useful nugget of information offered (see extracted image above): “… there has been discovered and perfected a way and means to make glass with sea coal [and] pit coal … in as good perfection for beauty and use, as formerly was made by wood”. I have used modern spelling but otherwise kept the contemporary use of English. By pit coal, I suspect we’re mostly talking of open-cast mining; where seams met the coast it was possible to gather lumps of coal on the shoreline, hence sea coal. To the modern mind it seems perfectly reasonable for them to have switched to coal given the shortage of timber, but it’s important to remember that the bulk transportation of fuel would have been far from trivial at the time (i.e. before the canal system, let alone the railways). One consequence of the prohibition against using wood was therefore that glass making necessarily declined in wooded regions of the country, like the Weald of Kent and Sussex, and gravitated towards areas having easy access to coal – perhaps like Sunderland, which developed a well-deserved reputation for glassmaking.

All in all, I had a wonderful few hours in the Archives. The welcome I received was second to none and the ‘atmosphere’ in there came pretty close to defining my dream library environment. To sit at a desk surrounded by old wood with light filtering in through handmade glass, and to hear at one point the cathedral’s bells drifting through high ceilings was bliss.


My warmest thanks go to David Shaw for his thoughtful invitation, to the two Archives reading room staff who registered me and settled me in, to their Digitisation Officer for creating digital images of the proclamation and to the Archives and Library Manager who approved my request to show the images in this post and offered some valuable comments on an earlier draft.


* Postscript: Turning the pages of Isaac Newton’s Philosophiæ Naturalis Principia Mathematica (1687; ‘The Mathematical Principles of Natural Philosophy’, see here and here) was a very special treat for anyone with an interest in science, and particularly for a physicist like me. Isaac Newton laid the groundwork for so much of the physical sciences still taught in schools and colleges: an intellectual giant. The text of the Principia was written in Latin, which I cannot read, but Newton and I share a common second language: that of mathematics. I only had time on this visit to enjoy the first of the three-volume work, but that proved ideal in the sense that I could focus properly on the many pages Newton used to define his terms and establish key axioms and proofs. Thus, I could discern that he used ‘C’ for speed, ‘S’ for distance and ‘T’ for time and would write the classic relationship between them as C = S : T (c.f. the c = s/t form one would see today). Moving from there to acceleration, momentum etc. became possible on this basis. Noticeably, there is much space given to the use geometric proofs. There are other historic scientific documents held within the Archive and now that I have my reader’s photo-ID card I shall be able to book a slot for return visits.

P.p.s. One afternoon, back in 1985/6, together with a couple of colleagues who were similarly bored of the mandatory ‘induction course’ we’d been dispatched to by our employer, I got the chance to look through several historical documents in the library at Herstmonceux Castle – including a beautifully illustrated contemporary account of James Cook’s first expedition on the Endeavour. As a schoolboy I don’t believe I ever committed truancy – I loved learning, so why would I – but I have no regrets about skipping class on that occasion ;-)


Further reading
There are a great many books/articles on the history of glass. For those with an interest in the glassmaking of England during the period of history of most relevance to this blog post I can share a few of the online resources I have consulted:
On early-modern glass
For an extended article on the history of glassmaking in England – including the use of wood and switch to coal see here.
On the scientific analysis of medieval glass (a PhD thesis).
For Historic England’s archaeological guidelines see here and also here and here.

There are other, more generic, books sitting on my shelves such as:
5000 Years of Glass’ edited by H. Tait (The British Museum Press, 2012; ISBN 978-0-7141-5095-6)
A Short History of Glass’ by Cloe Zerwick (Harry N. Abrams Inc., 1990; ISBN 0-87290-121-1)
The Glass Bathyscaphe’ by A. Macfarlane and G. Martin (Profile Books, 2003; ISBN 1-86197-394-2).