ASTRO SPACE NEWS

A DIVISION OF MID NORTH COAST ASTRONOMY (NSW)

(ASTRO) DAVE RENEKE

SPACE WRITER - MEDIA PERSONALITY - SCIENCE CORRESPONDENT ABC/COMMERCIAL RADIO - LECTURER - ASTRONOMY OUTREACH PROGRAMS - ASTRONOMY TOUR GUIDE - TELESCOPE SALES/SERVICE/LESSONS - MID NORTH COAST ASTRONOMY GROUP (Est. 2002)   Enquiries: (02) 6585 2260       Mobile: 0400 636 363        Email: davereneke@gmail.com

Over the past four years, the Norfolk Island Stargazing Tours have become one of the island's most talked-about night-time attractions. Led by astronomer and science communicator Dave Reneke, each tour has offered visitors a relaxed and entertaining look at the southern sky. Guests have handled real meteorites, examined genuine fragments of Moon rock, learned sky lore from ancient cultures, and viewed deep-sky objects through quality telescopes under some of the darkest skies in the Pacific. Reneke's trademark humour and clear explanations have made the sessions accessible to newcomers and unforgettable for seasoned skywatchers. Every year has sold out, with visitors consistently praising the combination of science, storytelling, and Norfolk's extraordinary night sky.

Get ready for another unforgettable journey into the cosmos. In September 2026, Astronomer Dave Reneke returns to Norfolk Island to host the next chapter in his acclaimed Stargazing Tour series.

This upcoming tour will deliver the same winning formula that keeps guests coming back: crystal-clear island skies, hands-on astronomy, and Reneke's engaging, down-to-earth style of storytelling. Across several nights, participants will enjoy telescope sessions targeting the best seasonal objects, from star clusters and nebulae to southern-sky showpieces rarely seen outside this latitude. Guests will once again get the rare chance to hold real space material, including meteorites and genuine Moon fragments, while learning how these relics connect us to the birth of the solar system.

Expect riveting sky talks, practical observing tips, and an easygoing atmosphere perfect for beginners and enthusiasts alike. With limited places and strong demand every year, the 2026 Norfolk Island Stargazing Tour is set to fill quickly. Bookings open NOW. Join the adventure, look up, and discover why Norfolk Island remains one of the most remarkable stargazing destinations on Earth. Enquiries: Dave 0400 636 363  For a detailed brochure email: norfolkislandstargazing@gmail.com

Look Up, Australia! A  Meteor Shower Is Peaking Soon

Get ready, sky gazers!One of the year's best meteor showers is about to peak.The Geminid meteor shower peaks the night of December 13–14 – and it's not just any meteor shower. It's one of the best of the year, known for producing over 100 bright meteors per hour, with fireballs, long trails, and a consistent, vivid display.Unlike most showers, which come from icy comets, the Geminids come from a strange rocky object: aste roid 3200 Phaethon.

It behaves like a comet, but it's an asteroid – one that sheds debris as it passes close to the Sun. When Earth crosses its path each December, that dust hits our atmosphere at 78,000 miles per hour (125,000 km/h), creating brilliant streaks of light across the sky.Even better? The Moon won't interfere this year. 

A waning crescent rises late, leaving dark skies for optimal viewing. Just find a spot far from city lights, lie back, and let your eyes adjust for 30 minutes. While the meteors appear to radiate from the constellation Gemini, they'll streak across the whole sky.The Geminids were first recorded in 1833, seen from a riverboat on the Mississippi River. 

And they've only grown stronger. Over the centuries, Jupiter's gravity has pulled the debris stream closer to Earth, intensifying the annual show.So mark your calendar, bundle up, and look up. 

What Is The Difference Between Asteroids, Comets & Meteors?

NASA successfully changed an asteroid's path in 2022, showing we can redirect potentially hazardous space rocks.

Quantum Entanglement and the Coming Age of Teleportation
An easy-to-grasp look at the science that may reshape human travel

THIS may be the most incredible/amazing story you have ever read: Quantum entanglement sits at the heart of some of the most fascinating work in modern physics. It's an idea so strange that even Einstein raised an eyebrow at it, famously calling it "spooky action at a distance." Yet despite the nickname, the phenomenon is very real. If two tiny particles become entangled, they behave as one system no matter how far apart they travel. Change something about one, and its partner reacts instantly—even if one is in Sydney and the other could somehow be waiting on Mars.

Picture a magical pair of coins. Flip one, and the other immediately shows the same result. Not because a message rushed between them, but because, in a sense, they share the same identity. That, in a nutshell, is quantum entanglement: a silent connection built into the very structure of reality. This invisible link is now guiding scientists toward ideas that were once reserved for science-fiction writers, including the headline act—teleportation.

Teleportation today isn't about moving objects from A to B. Instead, scientists use entanglement to transfer the state or properties of one particle to another somewhere else. It's a bit like copying a document, except the original version disappears the moment the new one appears. This technique has been tested repeatedly in laboratories, between mountaintops, across cities, and even between Earth and satellites.

Turning this into a method for moving physical objects—and ultimately people—is enormously more complicated. A human being is made of unimaginable numbers of particles. Teleporting someone would require capturing the exact state of every one of those particles and sending that information elsewhere to be rebuilt perfectly. That's equivalent to mapping every grain of sand on an entire beach with flawless accuracy, then recreating that beach grain-by-grain somewhere else.

We're nowhere near that level of precision yet, but history shows that "impossible" is often just a temporary label.

Some far-reaching theories suggest that the fabric of space itself can be bent, twisted, or folded. If that's true, then distant locations might be linked through tunnels or shortcuts sometimes described as "holes." They aren't holes in the usual sense but distortions in spacetime that connect two places directly—much like folding a sheet of paper so two dots that were far apart suddenly touch.

Quantum entanglement appears in several of these theoretical models. Researchers suspect it could help detect, measure, or perhaps even stabilise these spacetime shortcuts. At the moment, these ideas live largely in mathematical equations, but they hint at a future where teleportation doesn't just transmit information. It could move physical matter—and potentially living passengers—through controlled gateways formed by the structure of the universe itself.

How the Technology Might Evolve

A realistic but forward-looking path for the development of quantum teleportation could look like this:

2025–2040

• Major progress in quantum computers.

• Routine teleportation of information between ground stations and satellites.

• First solid theoretical models describing tiny, short-lived quantum "space holes."

2040–2060

• Controlled teleportation of simple matter—atoms and small molecules.

• Spacecraft adopt quantum-linked systems for instant communication.

• Early attempts to stabilise microscopic spacetime shortcuts.

2060–2100

• Teleporting complex objects becomes possible on a laboratory scale.

• Quantum holes remain stable long enough for tiny probes to traverse.

• Global agencies explore long-range, no-rocket material transport.

22nd century and beyond

• Full object teleportation becomes practical.

• Human teleportation, if proven safe, appears in extremely restricted trials.

• Space travel shifts dramatically as teleportation hubs replace launch pads.

• A network of quantum "highways" turns the solar system into a familiar neighbourhood.                                                                                                                                              The Future in One Sentence

Quantum entanglement is the universe's built-in communication thread, and if humanity learns to master it, teleportation—of data, objects, and eventually people—could transform travel from a physical journey into a simple step between two points in space.

The Man Who Owns The Moon!

Dennis Hope is a man who looked up at the night sky one evening in 1980, noticed that nobody had put a fence around the Moon, and decided he might as well claim it. At the time, he was a car salesman in California with more ambition than cash. While mulling over international space law — or at least the parts he found interesting — he discovered that the 1967 Outer Space Treaty prevented governments from owning celestial bodies. It didn't say anything about private individuals. That tiny gap in the wording was all the encouragement he needed.

So Hope filed a "Declaration of Ownership" with his local authorities, sent letters announcing his claim to the United Nations, the U.S. government, and even the Soviet Union, then waited for someone to object. No one replied. In Hope's view, silence meant he had just become the landlord of the Moon, and for good measure, he also laid claim to every planet and moon in the solar system. Mars, Venus, Mercury — the man didn't think small.

With cosmic ambition and a printer, he launched a company called Lunar Embassy and began selling off lunar plots in acre-sized chunks. Prices hovered around twenty U.S. dollars, and buyers received a deed complete with coordinates, embossed seals, and enough decorative flair to convince you that you might actually own a corner of Mare Tranquillitatis. Hope even styled himself the head of a self-declared "Galactic Government," complete with a constitution and the promise of future lunar infrastructure, should anyone care to build something on their patch of dusty grey paradise.

Over the decades, he claims to have sold millions of these lunar parcels to people in more than a hundred countries. Some accounts suggest celebrities and political figures have purchased moon land as novelty gifts. Others bought plots for romance — after all, there's nothing quite like giving your partner the Moon to show you're serious — even if it does arrive as a paper certificate in the mail. Early on, Hope reportedly did some of his marketing the old-fashioned way, wandering into bars with a stack of deeds under his arm, asking strangers if they wanted to buy a piece of the Moon. It must have worked surprisingly well; his "Galactic Government" now has thousands of self-described "citizens," all of them proud lunar landholders.

There's just one problem. Every expert in space law who has examined Hope's claim has come to the same conclusion: none of it has any legal standing. The spirit of the Outer Space Treaty, and every major interpretation since, makes it clear that celestial property cannot be owned by anyone — not governments, not companies, and not private individuals with creative paperwork. Courts in various countries have dismissed similar claims as having no basis in law. Later attempts, such as the 1979 Moon Treaty, went even further, explicitly banning private ownership, though major spacefaring nations never signed it. In short, the Moon remains gloriously ownerless, no matter how many certificates are floating around the world.

Still, Hope's business thrives because people enjoy the idea of owning something that hangs in the night sky. Most treat the deed as a novelty or a joke gift, not a serious investment. A few like to imagine that one day, perhaps in some far-off future where lunar tourism is as casual as a weekend away, their little acre might be worth something. Others simply enjoy the whimsy — an acre of Moon costs less than dinner and often guarantees a better laugh.

And then there's Hope himself, a man who took an obscure legal loophole and turned it into a decades-long enterprise. Whether you see him as eccentric, entrepreneurial, or just cosmically cheeky, his story remains one of the strangest intersections of space exploration, human imagination, and paperwork ever attempted.

So is it real? Not in any enforceable sense. Nobody owns the Moon, not even the man who sells it. But as long as people keep buying certificates for fun, Dennis Hope will continue to sell something that, for all its lack of legal weight, remains irresistible: the chance to say, with a straight face, that you own a little piece of the Moon.

Science Vs Superstition - Separating Astronomy From Astrology

Staring up at the night sky, a blanket of twinkling stars, has fascinated humans for as long as we've had eyes to see. Stars have been our guides, our muses, and the spark for both scientific exploration and... let's just say, some more "colorful" interpretations. Enter astronomy and astrology: two fields that, at first glance, seem to share a cosmic bond, but take completely different approaches to the heavens. Let's take a fun, yet scientific, look at these two starry cousins.

Astrology has been around forever—well, almost. It's been with us since the Babylonians, who were probably the first to connect the dots between stars and personal fate. Then the Greeks got in on the action, tying zodiac signs to everything from love lives to the fall of empires. In ancient times, stars weren't just far-off balls of gas—they were the celestial puppeteers pulling the strings of human destiny. Astrology was as much about understanding the universe as it was about interpreting how the stars could shape our lives.

But as time marched on and science developed, astronomy emerged. Gone were the days of interpreting celestial movements as omens or personality guides. In came telescopes, measurements, and a whole lot of math. Astronomy—still inspired by those early skywatchers—became focused on uncovering the truths of the universe. Instead of focusing on predicting the rise and fall of kings, astronomers set their sights on understanding the actual workings of the cosmos.

Picture this: Two friends look up at the same star. One's an astronomer. The other's an astrologer. The astronomer is jotting down notes, calculating the star's temperature, size, and age. They're figuring out how far away it is and wondering if it might host any planets with the potential for life. All very scientific stuff, right? The astrologer, on the other hand, is probably thinking, "Oh, that star's in Pisces today, so it must mean I should totally avoid important decisions until tomorrow." There's a bit of a gap between the two approaches.

Here's where things get a little tricky: astrology isn't science. It wants to be, but it just doesn't quite measure up to the standards of the scientific method. Scientists have repeatedly found no evidence linking the positions of stars and planets to our personalities, love lives, or fortunes. In short, your zodiac sign isn't why you got stuck in traffic or why your coffee tasted weird this morning.

That said, the allure of astrology doesn't fade, does it? Millions of people still check their daily horoscopes, looking for guidance or just a little cosmic reassurance. And why? Because astrology taps into something deep inside us: the desire to feel connected to something bigger. It gives us a narrative to cling to—something to believe in, especially when the universe seems too big to make sense of.

Does that mean we should dismiss astrology entirely? Not necessarily. It can be fun, and it provides a way for people to think about their lives, relationships, and the world around them. It's not science, but it's a part of our cultural fabric and can even inspire people to take a closer look at the real universe through the lens of astronomy.

So, what's the takeaway here? Embrace both astronomy and astrology for what they are. Astronomy gives us the tools to understand the mind-blowing reality of the universe. Astrology? Well, it gives us a fun, quirky way to think about our place in it, even if it doesn't have the scientific backing to predict your next big life event. The magic of the stars is less about your horoscope and more about marvelling at the immense, awe-inspiring universe we live in.

And who knows? Maybe you'll catch a glimpse of a star that'll make you rethink your whole approach to life. Just don't bet the farm on it. Oh, and by the way, check out my Website for a Norfolk Island Astronomy Tour. www.davidreneke.com

Voyager 1 approaches one light day from Earth

As it heads out of the solar system never to return, the deep space probe Voyager 1 is headed for yet another cosmic milestone. In late 2026, it will become the first spacecraft to travel so far that a radio signal from Earth takes 24 hours, or one light day, to reach it.

According to Einstein, the speed of light is as fast as it's possible for anything to go. That may seem arbitrarily restrictive, but at 186,000 miles per second (299,388 km/s), that leaves a lot of leeway unless you're dealing with things at computer speeds where a delay can be aggravating.

Another thing that can be aggravating is that though light is fast, the universe is, as The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy says, really big. This means that if you have to cover a long enough distance, the speed of light starts to become noticeable in a way that we don't see on Earth.

Perhaps the first time we saw this publicly was during the Apollo Moon landings over 50 years ago. If you watch old video recordings of the astronauts on the lunar surface talking to Mission Control back on Earth, you'll notice that there's a delay of about 2.6 seconds between when someone makes a comment and the other party replies. That's because with the Moon being about 226,000 miles (363,000 km) from the Earth, it takes a radio signal 1.3 seconds to travel the distance.

If you go to Mars, this gap becomes up to four minutes. For Jupiter, it's up to 52 minutes, and for Pluto (which I still stubbornly say is a planet!) that comes to up to 6.8 hours. Small wonder that deep space missions require robotic spacecraft that have a high degree of autonomy. If they had to wait for direct instructions from Earth before making a move, a few Mars rovers would have ended their careers as a pile of scrap at the bottom of a ravine.

None of this compares to Voyager 1, the veteran probe launched in 1977 to make a flyby of Jupiter and Saturn before heading out on a one-way trajectory into interstellar space. Despite being almost a half-century old and flying through the incredibly cold, radiation-saturated depths of space at the edge of the solar system, it still continues to function and NASA is determined that it will continue to do so until its nuclear power source finally gives out in the next year or so.

Functioning or not, along with its sister craft Voyager 2, Voyager 1 will continue moving farther and farther from Earth. As it does so, the time light takes to travel to it stretches out as well. According to NASA, at the time of writing, the probe is about 15.7 billion miles (25.3 billion km) from Earth, with a one-way message taking 23 hours, 32 minutes and 35 seconds to reach its destination.

But in around a year, (currently estimated to fall on November 15, 2026), Voyager 1 will be 16.1 billion miles (25.9 billion km) from Earth, crossing the line where a signal from it will take 24 hours to reach us.

Voyager 2 is still somewhat in the rearguard with a distance of a mere 19.5 light hours.

Despite the vast distances involved, both Voyager probes are still in contact with Mission Control thanks to NASA's Deep Space Network tracking system. The bad news is that from late next year, any commands given to Voyager 1 will require two days just to be acknowledged, so maintaining the distant explorer is a case of slow motion nerves for space agency engineers.

What Would Be the Scariest Message Humanity Could Receive from Space?

Imagine this: Earth finally receives its first confirmed signal from an alien civilization. Anticipation buzzes across the planet. Scientists gather, politicians hold their breath, the world tunes in… only to find the message is a familiar one. It's a grainy broadcast from 1936, the opening ceremony of the Berlin Olympics—featuring none other than Adolf Hitler.

No, this isn't a bizarre sci-fi plot twist. That particular broadcast was one of the first strong television signals powerful enough to escape Earth's atmosphere. As SETI astronomer Seth Shostak explained, "It was at a high frequency that might make it through the ionosphere." Though it's extremely unlikely aliens would actually pick it up—it was weak and broadcast in all directions—it sparks an unsettling thought: what if our first impression to the cosmos is history's worst PR moment?

In the film Contact, this is exactly what happens. Aliens return our signal without understanding its content—essentially saying "hello" by sending us a message of hatred. It's a cosmic miscommunication of epic proportions.

But that's just the start of what could go wrong. The real chills begin when you imagine the other types of messages we might receive. What if we picked up a signal that simply said, "We are on our way"? No details. No origin. Just the cold announcement. That's the kind of vague transmission that would freeze world leaders in their tracks and send scientists scrambling.

Or worse: what if the message said, "We know you're there. We've always known"? Suddenly, we're not alone—we never were. According to the Zoo Hypothesis, alien civilizations might already be watching us. We could be the unaware animals in a galactic safari park, with intelligent beings observing us until we're advanced—or behaved—enough to be contacted.

What if their message said, "Welcome. You're ready." Ready for what? It might be uplifting—or it might mean we've just been promoted from observation to participation in some kind of cosmic trial.

There's also the unnerving idea behind one solution to the Fermi Paradox: that advanced civilizations are silent because they're hiding. Maybe they learned the hard way that broadcasting your presence is dangerous. And if we hear a message from space, is it a friendly greeting—or a baited trap?

All this speculation hinges on SETI—the Search for Extraterrestrial Intelligence. Today, SETI researchers around the globe scan the skies, using radio telescopes to listen for unnatural signals from deep space. So far? Silence. But the search continues, growing more sophisticated every year, using AI, wide-spectrum analysis, and even optical methods.

Still, perhaps the scariest message of all would be… no message. What if there's nothing out there? No civilizations, no watchers, no galactic neighbors. Just us. Alone. That may be more frightening than hostile aliens—because it means we're it. The lone spark of intelligence in a vast, cold universe. If we screw it up here, there may be no second chance, anywhere.

So, next time you stare at the night sky and wonder who's out there, just remember—it's not just a question of if they exist, but what they might say when they finally call. And what if… they already have?

How Far Into Space Do Our TV Signals Go?

If you've seen the film Contact, you'll remember the clever twist: astronomers pick up a message from the star Vega, and hidden inside it is the old black-and-white broadcast of Hitler opening the 1936 Olympic Games. The idea is simple and exciting — our early TV broadcasts have drifted far enough into space for someone else to notice them.

It's a terrific story. But the real world is a bit less tidy.

The 1936 Olympics really were the first strong television broadcast that managed to leak through Earth's atmosphere and escape into space. From that day on, a bubble of radio and TV "noise" has been expanding outward at the speed of light. If you drew a giant circle around Earth 90 light-years across, that's roughly how far our early broadcasts have travelled.

So in theory, a few thousand nearby stars now sit inside our expanding radio bubble. But there's a catch: just because the signals have travelled that far doesn't mean anyone could actually pick them up.

Here's why. When a TV signal leaves Earth, it spreads out in all directions, getting weaker and weaker the farther it travels. Think of shining a torch across a paddock — by the time the beam reaches the far fence, it's barely more than a dim glow. Stretch that same idea over dozens of light-years, and the original broadcast becomes unbelievably faint.

A good example of this is Voyager 1, the spacecraft now cruising at the edge of the Solar System. Its tiny radio transmitter is only 23 watts — about the same as a small light bulb — yet we can still detect it from an enormous distance because we use huge antennas that are designed to listen for exactly that signal. But if we tried to send Voyager's signal to the nearest star, we'd need a transmitter more than a hundred million watts strong to make it as easy for them as it is for us.

And ordinary TV stations back on Earth don't come close to that. Many use only a few million watts, and they beam their signal sideways across the landscape, not into deep space. Only a small amount leaks upward, and that portion becomes so weak so quickly that it blends into the background hiss of the universe after just a few light-years.

Even if someone out there had super-powered receivers, they'd still face another hurdle: our broadcasts use formats and timing systems that only make sense to us. It would be like finding a mysterious cassette tape in the desert without having any idea what a cassette player even looks like.

There's more working against us. Space isn't empty — thin clouds of gas and dust float between the stars, and over long distances they can smudge and scatter weak signals. By the time an alien civilisation received an old Neighbours episode, it would sound more like static than a soap opera.

None of this means we can't communicate across the stars. It just means casual leakage from our TV sets won't do it. If we ever truly want to say hello to another civilisation, we need to use a frequency where space is quiet, send something powerful and clear, and make sure the message isn't mistaken for natural noise.

We actually tried this once. In 1974, the Arecibo Observatory sent a special three-minute broadcast into space. It wasn't a TV program — it was a carefully designed pattern of 1,679 bits that, when arranged correctly, form a picture showing things like our DNA, our Solar System, and a human figure. It was our most deliberate and strongest interstellar "greeting" so far.

So, how far into space do our TV signals go? They're out there, spreading further every second. But beyond a few light-years, they're too faint and messy to make sense of. If anyone finds us, it will probably be by noticing Earth itself — our oxygen-rich atmosphere, our water, and the green glow of plants — the same clues we're now searching for on distant worlds.

And if we ever do get a message from someone else, it won't arrive as an old broadcast from the 1930s. It will start small, simple, and unmistakably artificial — a cosmic knock on the door saying: We're here.

Chinese Space Station Achieves First-Ever Oxygen and Rocket Fuel Production Using Artificial Photosynthesis

China has quietly ticked off a milestone that, until now, belonged firmly in the realm of science fiction. A small experiment aboard the Tiangong space station has succeeded in turning sunlight, water and carbon dioxide into oxygen and rocket propellant components — all through artificial photosynthesis. It's the first time this has ever been achieved in orbit, and it's a major step toward living and working far from Earth.

Mach-23 potato gun to shoot satellites into space

"What can we do to radically drop the price of launch in the next 10 years?" That's the question Mike Grace keeps asking—and he's not whispering it into the void. Grace is the CEO and founder of Longshot, a company quietly stepping into the limelight with an audacious idea: getting payloads into space without rockets.

If your first reaction is "Longshot who?" you're not alone. Until recently, I couldn't have picked them out of a lineup, either. SpinLaunch? Sure, that one rings a bell. But Longshot? Not so much. Still, when the boss forwarded me an email saying, "I'm flat out, but Joe will be up for this," I figured it was worth a look. Loz has known me for more than a decade; if he says it's my kind of madness, he's usually right.

That's how I found myself sitting down with Grace—part engineer, part visionary, part human question mark—and listening to a plan that sounds like it was sketched in the margins of a sci-fi novel. The aim? To develop a colossal, ground-based launcher capable of hurling payloads skyward at staggering speeds. No boosters. No towering rockets. Just brute-force physics and a machine built to treat orbital delivery a bit like a cosmic slingshot.

If this all feels faintly familiar, there's good reason. A couple of years back, Loz wrote a story with the eyebrow-raising phrase "Nazi über-cannon" in the headline. That article pulled me straight down the rabbit hole—an exploration of historical mega-gun concepts and how a modern company was adapting the underlying principles, minus the sinister baggage, to pitch a new way of reaching orbit. It sounded like the fever dream of an over-caffeinated engineer armed with a physics textbook and a pile of ambition.

Now Longshot seems ready to push that idea even further. Grace isn't shy about the scale of the challenge. He's blunt: space access is still too expensive, too slow, too dependent on complex, failure-prone rocket systems. If the world wants mass orbital delivery, daily launches, and cheap access to space, something has to give—and in his eyes, rockets as we know them simply won't cut it.

His proposal is simple in concept, monstrous in execution: build an enormous, high-velocity launcher capable of accelerating payloads to Mach speeds, then letting the atmosphere and momentum do the rest. Yes, it sounds like someone scaled up a 23-potato-gun backyard experiment and pointed it at the sky. But unlike the YouTube version, this one has serious engineering behind it—and serious investment interest.

Grace argues that if someone doesn't try a radical approach like this now, we'll still be paying premium prices for launches in a decade. And while it may sound wild, disruptive ideas often do—right until they work.

Is Longshot the company to pull it off? Hard to say. But Grace's conviction is undeniable, and the concept forces a tantalising question: what if getting into orbit didn't require a roaring column of fire at all? What if we could simply… launch?

Whether this project becomes the next big leap or just a fascinating footnote in the history of spaceflight, one thing is certain: the future of getting off this planet is changing, and it might just arrive with a bang.

This week we're diving into telescopes again — the Christmas kind! What's sitting at the top of your wish list this year? If exploring the night sky is part of your new year plans, then a great telescope is your passport to the universe. And honestly, in the space age we're living in, there's never been a cooler time for a young person to start stargazing.

I'm constantly asked what telescope people should buy, and the honest answer is simple: get the best one you can sensibly afford, and — most importantly — the one you'll actually use. I've lined up some solid tips for you, so pay attention! And remember, you've got less than four weeks to make that decision count.

These days every telescope is a balancing act between price and performance. In the world of beginner scopes, there's a forest of junk out there, but genuine entry-level instruments aren't too pricey. Expect to put aside at least $250 for a decent, reliable beginner telescope in Australia.

You can find scopes around the $100 mark, sometimes less, but tread carefully. Many are built to look impressive while delivering the optical equivalent of fogged-up sunglasses. Their mechanical parts often match that quality.

Above all else, ignore those dazzling, full-colour photos of planets splashed across the boxes of bargain-bin scopes, along with the ridiculous claims of "1,000× magnification." Those images are marketing bait, nothing more. You won't see anything like that unless you're using the Hubble Space Telescope — and you already know the price tag on that one!

Skip department stores entirely; they usually lack the expertise needed. Choose a specialist telescope dealer or, in some cases, a knowledgeable camera shop. A proper telescope retailer can figure out your needs and point you toward something that won't become a dusty ornament by February.

The mount, surprisingly, is almost as important as the telescope itself. Make sure the one supplied with your chosen scope is smooth, steady, and built like it wants to stay upright. If you can lift the whole setup with one hand, it'll wobble at the first hint of a breeze, and you'll invent new vocabulary you didn't know you had. Avoid that experience!

For brand-new astronomers, learn the constellations first, then grab a pair of binoculars to hunt your first "deep sky" gems — star clusters, bright nebulae, and planets. On a tight budget? Ask Santa for quality binoculars; they reveal far more than you might imagine. They're really just double telescopes, after all. I still use mine every clear night.

It's wild to think the International Space Station has clocked up 25 years. As large as a football field, shared by 16 nations, and visible right here in Australia, it's a marvel of our era. You can spot it passing over Wauchope and nearby areas via several good free apps on your phone or tablet.

Imagine experiencing 16 sunrises and 16 sunsets every day! Now that's a job. Clear skies! And if you're telescope-shopping this Christmas and want guidance, I'm available for lessons and buying advice, plus we can arrange a lesson or two after the event on a field night with my group, Mid North Coast Astronomy, if you're down my way.

Weather permitting, we meet monthly here in Wauchope and don't forget, we're running our yearly 'Stargazing Tour' to Norfolk Island again next year. Details on my website www.davidreneke.com  Ph 0400 636 363

A high speed sci-fi spacecraft concept that could get us to Mars within 30 days!

Engineers around the world are now testing a new generation of hypersonic engines, especially rotating-detonation designs where fuel ignites in a controlled circular shockwave. This produces far more power and efficiency than standard combustion and could push aircraft to Mach 8 or even Mach 10. If these engines scale as planned, a Sydney–London trip in about two hours is no longer a fantasy but a realistic engineering goal for the next couple of decades. Some companies are also developing near-space aircraft that skim the edge of the atmosphere, switching from air-breathing engines to rocket assist at high altitude. With far thinner air and far less drag, the speed gains can be enormous.

The Moss That Went To Space — And Came Back Stronger

It's not every day that a small, slow-growing plant becomes the hero of a space story. Rockets, rovers, and astronauts usually hog the spotlight. But a recent experiment has pushed an unlikely contender onto centre stage: moss. Not just any moss, but a hardy little species that spent nine months clinging to the outside of the International Space Station — and lived to tell the tale.

Yes, scientists stuck moss onto the outside of the ISS, exposed it to brutal radiation, vacuum, temperature swings that would make Antarctica blush, and the complete lack of anything resembling a comfortable environment. For most living things, this is a quick ticket to oblivion. But this moss had other ideas.

The experiment, led by researchers looking to understand how simple life copes with space conditions, involved fastening small samples of the plant to the station's exterior. For nine long months, the moss endured everything space could throw at it. No protective dome. No gentle shade. Just raw survival on the edge of our planet.

And when the samples returned to Earth? Eighty percent sprang back to life and kept on growing.

That number surprised even the scientists involved. It suggests that moss — one of Earth's oldest and simplest plants — has a built-in toughness that borders on astonishing. Think of it as nature's version of that neighbour who insists they "don't need sunscreen" while everyone else is melting. Only in this case, the moss really doesn't.

The implications stretch far beyond botany. If a modest plant can shrug off the vacuum of space, what else might endure out there? What does this say about life's ability to travel between worlds? Could tiny organisms hitch a lift on rocks blasted off one planet and land safely on another — a concept scientists call panspermia? It's still unproven, but experiments like this give the idea a little more weight.

There's also the question of the future. If humans hope to live on the Moon or Mars, we'll need more than fancy gadgets — we'll need life that can handle the environment. Moss is no candidate for a Martian salad, but its resilience could help shape regolith, stabilise soil, or even act as a starter for closed ecological systems. At the very least, it shows that Earth life has more tricks up its sleeve than we once thought.

And the image itself is irresistible: while astronauts float inside the station checking readings and sipping rehydrated coffee, a handful of tiny green pioneers are clinging to the outside bolts, riding through day-night cycles that flip from scorching sunlight to icy darkness every 90 minutes. If you were writing a sci-fi adventure, you'd struggle to invent a more unlikely crew member.

Once the experiment ended, the returning moss didn't sulk or collapse. It simply resumed what moss does best: growing slowly, steadily, stubbornly. You can almost hear it saying, "Space? Yeah, I've seen it."

It's a reminder that life on Earth began small and simple — and those early forms were built to survive much harsher conditions than most modern creatures ever face. In a way, this experiment reaches backward in time as much as forward, hinting at the raw durability of ancient life.

So the next time you brush past a patch of moss on a fallen log, remember: you're looking at a survivor. A champion of resilience. A plant so tough that when scientists strapped it to a space station and left it to bake and freeze for nearly a year, it came home and kept right on going.

We chase grand cosmic answers with giant telescopes and billion-dollar missions. But sometimes, a tiny green clump the size of a postage stamp can whisper something just as powerful: life is stubborn, adaptable, and always full of surprises. And if moss can thrive where it has no business thriving, imagine what the rest of us might achieve once we set our sights a little higher.

How Big Is Space? 

Ever tried to wrap your head around the size of space? Good luck. You'd have better luck folding a fitted sheet in zero gravity. Space isn't just big—it's absurdly, terrifyingly, hilariously massive. But let's try to get a grip on it anyway.

Start with something we kind of understand driving. Imagine hopping into your car and setting your GPS for Pluto. It's not exactly around the corner—it's the most distant planet-like thingy (sorry, Pluto) in our solar system. Cruising at a relaxed highway speed of 100 km/h, you'd arrive in a mere… 6,000 years. That's longer than recorded human history. Better pack snacks.

That's just our solar system. Once you start peeking outside it, things go off the rails fast. We need a new yardstick—enter the light-year, the distance light travels in a year. Light moves at 300,000 kilometres per second (yes, per second), so one light-year is about 10 trillion kilometres. That's ten million million. You'd need a very long odometer.

Now let's visit the closest star system: Alpha Centauri. It's about four light-years away. That's 40 trillion kilometers. If you launched the fastest spacecraft humans have ever built—Voyager 1, zipping along at over 60,000 km/h—it would take more than 70,000 years to get there. That's not a weekend trip. That's a commitment.

So what's the scale of our entire galaxy, the Milky Way? About 100,000 light-years across. That's how far light would travel if it spent 100,000 years crossing our galactic backyard. And remember—light is fast. Faster than gossip in a small town.

But our galaxy is just one among many. With the Hubble Space Telescope, and now the jaw-dropping James Webb Space Telescope, we've peered deep into the cosmos and spotted hundreds of billions—maybe even a trillion—other galaxies. Galaxies with billions of stars. Each with planets. Some possibly with life asking the same mind-bending question: How big is this place?

Here's where it gets really weird. When we look at the most distant galaxies, we're seeing them as they were over 13.5 billion years ago. That's not just old—it's prehistoric on a cosmic scale. And because the universe is expanding, those galaxies have since moved even farther away. Much farther.

So how big is the observable universe—the part we can actually detect with telescopes? Roughly 92 billion light-years across. And that's just the bits we can see. We're pretty sure there's more out there. Much more.

Now here's the cosmic kicker: We don't actually know whether the universe is finite or infinite. It could go on forever. Literally. Imagine unrolling a ball of yarn that never ends—or being stuck in an Ikea store with no exit. That's the level of scale we're dealing with.

Despite all our advanced technology, scientific breakthroughs, and missions to the Moon and Mars, we're still like ants trying to map out a football stadium using only breadcrumbs. We're getting smarter, sure. But space? Space is playing a whole other game.

So, the next time you look up at the stars and wonder how big space is, just remember: it's so big, it makes your Monday morning inbox look tiny. It's so big, even thinking about it is a journey.

And that's part of the magic. The more we learn about space, the bigger—and more mysterious—it gets. It's the universe's way of reminding us that no matter how far we go, there's always further to travel. And that's a pretty spectacular ride.

China's Race to the Moon: Astronauts by 2030

China has reaffirmed its bold promise: it will land astronauts on the Moon by 2030. Far from being a vague dream, the country's space agency says the plan is moving ahead on schedule, with rockets, landers, and space suits already in advanced stages of testing. The announcement came as China prepared to launch a new crew to its Tiangong Space Station — a sign that the nation's space ambitions are expanding fast.

The foundation for China's lunar effort is the Long March 10, a powerful new heavy-lift rocket now under development. It's designed to carry both astronauts and cargo beyond Earth orbit, a crucial step for any lunar mission. Engineers are also building a two-person lunar lander, code-named Lanyue, capable of ferrying astronauts from lunar orbit down to the surface and back. This lander, tested at a simulated lunar site, will serve as a life-support and operations hub during short surface stays. Matching the hardware are newly designed moon-landing suits, built to withstand extreme heat, radiation, and the abrasive lunar dust that defeated Apollo's fabric decades ago.

Zhang Jingbo, spokesperson for the China Manned Space Program, said that all key elements are "progressing smoothly," and that the 2030 landing target remains firm. "Our fixed goal of China landing a person on the Moon by 2030 is unshakable," he declared.

Meanwhile, the Tiangong Space Station — orbiting roughly 400 kilometres above Earth — continues to serve as a training ground for China's astronauts. The latest crew includes veteran flyer Zhang Lu and first-timers Wu Fei and Zhang Hongzhang, who will spend six months aboard the outpost. Alongside their experiments, they'll be studying how long stays in microgravity affect living organisms — even bringing along four mice for research on reproduction and adaptation in space. Every Tiangong mission helps refine the technology and experience needed for longer, deeper missions to come.

Beyond the 2030 landing, China's plans stretch much further. It has outlined a vision for a permanent International Lunar Research Station — a joint venture with Russia and possibly other nations — to be built near the Moon's south pole. Future missions could install solar arrays, mining systems, and even a small nuclear power source to support sustained habitation. Officials describe it as a base for science, exploration, and resource use — but also a symbol of China's arrival as a top-tier space power.

China's progress has been steady and deliberate. In recent years it has mastered docking, long-duration orbital flights, and robotic lunar landings — achievements that took decades for other spacefaring nations. From the Chang'e robotic explorers to the Tiangong space station and the planned Long March 10 rocket, each project forms a clear step in a long-term strategy.

While the United States pushes ahead with NASA's Artemis program, aiming to return humans to the Moon later this decade, China is taking a parallel, independent path. It's a new kind of space race — less about Cold War prestige and more about influence, science, and future resources. If successful, China could become the second nation ever to land humans on the Moon, half a century after Apollo 17.

The global implications are enormous. A Chinese presence on the Moon would reshape international space cooperation, drive new technology development, and possibly open up lunar exploration to broader participation from Asia and beyond.

Whether it happens in 2030 or shortly after, one thing is clear: China's space program has momentum, discipline, and purpose. Its next "giant leap" isn't just about reaching the Moon — it's about staying there.

Shedding Light — or Causing Alarm? The Controversial Plan to Launch 4,000 Space Mirrors

A California startup named Reflect Orbital has stirred intense debate with its bold—and some say dangerous—plan: to deploy a constellation of 4,000 giant mirrors in low-Earth orbit, reflecting sunlight back down to Earth. The goal? "Light on demand" after sunset and before sunrise, boosting solar power generation, aiding agriculture, and even lighting up disaster zones. But many scientists and environmental experts are sounding serious alarms. The Times of India+3Space+3Gadgets 360+3

A Vision of Endless Illumination

Reflect Orbital proposes starting with a demonstration mission called EARENDIL-1, tentatively launching in 2026. This test satellite would carry an 18 × 18 meter mylar mirror (about 60 × 60 feet) that can unfold in space. Space+2NextBigFuture.com+2 The plan is ambitious: once the technology proves itself, the company wants a fleet of 4,000 of these mirror-satellites in a sun-synchronous orbit, running along Earth's day–night boundary. Space

By precisely tilting these mirrors, the company says it could reflect sunlight onto specific 5-kilometer-wide areas of Earth's surface. The lighting would be "highly localized" and time-limited, according to Reflect Orbital. TechSpot+2Gadgets 360+2 Their business pitch includes: extending daylight for solar farms (boosting renewable energy), helping agriculture by giving crops more light, providing urban lighting after dark, and even offering emergency illumination after disasters. Gadgets 360+2NextBigFuture.com+2

Why Scientists Are Worried

Despite the optimistic vision, the scientific community has strong objections—and for good reason. Here are the main points of concern:

1. Extreme Light Pollution
   Astronomers warn these space mirrors could vastly brighten the night sky. The reflected beams are estimated to be four times brighter than a full moon, creating artificial "moving stars" that would streak across the sky. Space Robert Massey of the Royal Astronomical Society said the plan is "pretty catastrophic" from an astronomical standpoint. TechSpot+1

2. Disruption of Wildlife and Ecosystems
   Beyond astronomy, ecologists argue that this artificially extended daylight could disrupt natural cycles. Many species rely on the day–night rhythm: foraging, reproduction, migration, and rest are all tied to natural light. Space+1 The constant or semi-constant glare may confuse animals and upset delicate ecological balances. Space

3. Impact on Human Life
   There are also human concerns: prolonged or unpredictable nighttime illumination could interfere with sleep patterns, circadian rhythms, and even aviation safety. Live Science

4. Technical and Environmental Risk
   Skeptics question the feasibility of managing 4,000 large, lightweight reflectors in orbit. Issues include: orbital debris, satellite control failures, and the difficulty of precisely directing reflected sunlight without mistake. Live Science+1 Moreover, if not carefully controlled, these mirrors could become environmental hazards themselves. Live Science

5. Precedent and Governance
   Critics also worry about the precedent this sets. Unlike unintentional light pollution from satellite constellations (such as those launched for broadband), with Reflect Orbital the purpose is to brighten the night — making light pollution a feature, not a side effect. NASA Space News Questions linger: Who regulates such a system? What happens if the technology is misused or scaled uncontrollably?

The Company's Response

Reflect Orbital says it's aware of these concerns and is taking steps to mitigate risk. For instance:

• Their reflections would focus on specific 5-km zones, rather than broadly illuminating large swathes of Earth. Space

• After passing over a target, the satellite mirror would tilt away, reducing unintended illumination. Space+1

• For their 2026 test flight, they plan to work with experts to assess ecological and environmental effects. Space

Still, many in the scientific community are not convinced that these measures are enough and are calling for rigorous environmental reviews before any large-scale deployment.

Bigger Picture: Geoengineering or Risky Experiment?

This proposal is part of a broader idea known as solar geoengineering — manipulating sunlight to achieve certain outcomes on Earth. While many geoengineering concepts focus on dimming sunlight (to cool the planet), Reflect Orbital's mirrors do the opposite: redirect it, concentrating light where and when it's needed. Space

That makes this case unusual, and especially controversial. It raises not only technical and environmental questions, but moral ones, too: should private companies be allowed to deploy technology that fundamentally changes how Earth is lit at night? And who controls such power?

Conclusion: Reflect Orbital's plan to launch 4,000 massive space mirrors is undeniably visionary — blending renewable energy innovation with cutting-edge aerospace engineering. But vision without careful oversight could turn into a risky experiment with global consequences. The astronomical, ecological, and social stakes are high, and as scientists rightly warn, "from an astronomical perspective, that's pretty catastrophic."  . As the company moves toward its first test mission, what happens next may set precedents not just for clean energy, but for who gets to control the night sky.

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'ASTRO DAVE' RENEKE - A Personal Perspective

His extensive background includes teaching astronomy at the college level, being a featured speaker at astronomy conventions across Australia, and contributing as a science correspondent for both ABC and commercial radio stations. David's weekly radio interviews, reaching around 3 million listeners, cover the latest developments in astronomy and space exploration.

As a media personality, David's presence extends to regional, national, and international TV, with appearances on prominent platforms such as Good Morning America, American MSNBC news, the BBC, and Sky News in Australia. His own radio program has earned him major Australasian awards for outstanding service.

David is recognized for his engaging and unique style of presenting astronomy and space discovery, having entertained and educated large audiences throughout Australia. In addition to his presentations, he produces educational materials for beginners and runs a popular radio program in Hastings, NSW, with a substantial following and multiple awards for his radio presentations.

In 2004, David initiated the 'Astronomy Outreach' program, touring primary and secondary schools in NSW to provide an interactive astronomy and space education experience. Sponsored by Tasco Australia, Austar, and Discovery Science channel, the program donated telescopes and grants to schools during a special tour in 2009, contributing to the promotion of astronomy education in Australia. David Reneke, a highly regarded Australian amateur astronomer and lecturer with over 50 years of experience, has established himself as a prominent figure in the field of astronomy. With affiliations to leading global astronomical institutions,

David serves as the Editor for Australia's Astro-Space News Magazine and has previously held key editorial roles with Sky & Space Magazine and Australasian Science magazine. 

Heard on over 50 stations weekly