The Cosmos Measured

The universe is huge. It’s bigger than we can imagine. We can model it, but unless we figure out a way to travel across huge gulfs of space, I don’t think we can ever truly get a complete feeling for how huge it is. But, we CAN measure it. And we have, using various wavelengths of light from the depths of space to do it. The multiwavelength universe tells us what’s out there, how far away it is, but also where WE are.

So, what are the measurements? Let’s start with your every day distances. From your face to the computer screen is somewhere around a third to a half of a meter (9-14 inches for those who use the English system of units). What’s the distance to the nearest park? A few hundred meters? A kilometer? Several kilometers? The distance around the world is roughly 40,000 kilometers. The distance from Earth to the Moon is 384,403 kilometers. To travel from Earth to the nearest star is a distance of 4.1 light-years. (Light travels 1,079,252,848.8 kilometers per hour, do the math!) The distance from our planet to the center of the Milky Way Galaxy is 26,000 light-years; the nearest galaxies are at least 163,000 light-years away. The most distant phenomenon ever measured lies some 13.7 BILLION light-years away. That 13.7 billion is, essentially, the limit of how far we can see. Beyond that is—what? The froth stirred up by the Big Bang.

Considering that most of us human types are no more than a couple of meters or so tall, you can see that on the scale of the universe, we’re pretty small. Our brains aren’t more than a dozen or so centimeters across, but we’ve managed to figure out distances in the cosmos.

Universcale
Universcale

If you’re a person who enjoys a visual explanation of distances and scales, check out the Universcale. It’s a fascinating animation of distances and scales in the cosmos. From the tiniest bits of cosmic matter seen by the electron microscope to the scales at which our greatest telescopes offer, you can explore the size of the cosmos in all its variety.

The Solar System Plays Tricks on Us

Just when we think we understand a little bit about our neck of the cosmic woods, something comes up that whacks us upside the head (in a nice way) and spurs lots of questions.

Saturns Active North Pole, courtesy the Cassini Mission.
Saturn's active north pole, courtesy the Cassini Mission.

Take the planet Saturn, for example. We’ve all grown up being taught that this planet is a gas giant—made mostly of hydrogen gas, with varying amounts of helium, ammonia, nitrogen, methane, and other gases in its atmosphere. We’ve studied that atmosphere, charting storms that churn through it, and measuring temperature and wind speed variations. Heavy atmosphere, lots of round or semi-round storms in it, fast winds, and steadily thickening layers as you go down toward the core: that’s what we pegged for Saturn.

Still, the nature of planetary science is to study planets—and keep studying them for long periods of time. Planets aren’t static places, not even the “deadest” of them. Not by any means. They change over time, develop new features on their surfaces or in their atmosphees. And, their visible appearances don’t always tell us the full story. Just look at Saturn with infrared eyes, sensitive to thermal radiation (heat), for example, and interesting features pop right into view.

There’s this bizarre, six-sided feature that encircles the North Pole of the planet near 78 degrees north latitude, for example. It was actually discovered back in the 1980s by the Voyager spacecraft missions, but this is the first time we’ve been able to position a spacecraft (Cassini) in a good orbit to get a clear image of the thing. You can read more about the specifics of the image here, but suffice to say, this is the best view we’ve had of this atmospheric phenomenon ever. The hexagon of clouds is long-lived, so we’ll have much more time to study it (at least as long as Cassini pipes images and data back). But what is it? There’s nothing been seen like it at any other planet in our solar system, and nobody expected to see anything like it in Saturn’s thick atmosphere, either. It’s naturally occurring, so now the trick is to come up with a good atmospheric model that can explain the thing. There is a similar type of atmospheric phenomenon on Earth, called the polar vortex, so perhaps using that as a model, astronomers will be able to get a handle on Saturn’s, which is four times the size of Earth.

I remember when Saturn used to be thought strange because it had rings. Now, it turns out that Jupiter, Uranus, and Neptune have rings. And, in the distant past, Earth might have had one, too. What else will we learn about our solar system before we think we can say we know it all??