I got back to Hamilton Thursday night after 3 nights and 2 days at Point Farms Provincial Park on Lake Huron with my wife Barb. Our camping experience started on Monday night with a violent thunderstorm complete with a waterspout off Lake Huron, howling winds and a large broken tree branch invading our campsite, and ended on Thursday morning with another thunderstorm as I madly stashed our soaking belongings into the back of the van for the long drive home. But in between, oh, in between was something completely different and unforgetable.
Tuesday night at around 11:30 I eagerly drove down to the beach, and decided to take advantage of the dark northern skies in and around Ursa Major. Before my session was over I had seen 9 galaxies and a planetary nebula, with 8 out of 10 objects being first time observations in a telescope! I felt a sense of oneness with the universe as the waves gently lapped up on the shore nearby and the glory of the summer night sky sparkled above me.
Wednesday night I planned to see if I could stay up long enough to observe the great occultation of the Pleiades. As I began my all night vigil at midnight, the sky wasn’t as dark as the night before and began to cloud up shortly after I arrived. But not to be deterred, I aimed my Dobsonian to the northeast, which at that point was the only section of the sky that was cloud-free. I was treated to my first glimpse of the Perseus double cluster. After a half hour or so, the sky had cleared up. Over the next few hours I managed to observe 14 different deep sky objects, 13 of those being first time observations.
My favourite objects so far in the Point Farms night skies were M51 (the Whirlpool Galaxy), the double cluster in Perseus (NGC 869 and 884), the two companion galaxies to M31 (Andromeda Galaxy), and Brocchi’s Cluster in Vulpecula (Beautiful and bizarre! Who put that crazy star cluster up there, anyway??). I also enjoyed my first glimpse of the Lagoon Nebula in Sagittarius.
By 1:30 I was getting tired, and a little spooked. I think it was a combination of the strong breeze and the occasional unexplained night noises, the fact that this was my second night in a row being up late (I am not by nature a night hawk), and the fact that I was alone on a deserted beach at night, far beyond help should any bears be hunting for astronomers. I found myself glancing behind me every once in a while–I knew (or hoped?) there were no bears in the park. I did smell a skunk at one point and started to talk and sing outloud to ward off any impending attack of noxious spray. I soon got over my jitters, but I was starting to tire of hunting deep sky objects.
By 2 o’clock the moon was nowhere in sight, and I began to reconsider whether I could last long enough to catch an occultation. I could see Perseus clearly in the northeast, and my star maps assured me that the Pleiades were not far behind Perseus in the magestic march of the stars across the sky. After a bit of internal debating, I decided to pack up and head back to my tent. I had been quite keen on seeing the moon pass in front of the sisters, but thought more about the 3 or 4 hour drive ahead of me the next morning.
As I drove up the steep road to the campground, I was delighted to see the crescent moon appear as if from nowhere. I couldn’t pass up the opportunity despite my fatigue, so I parked the van and got out my binoculars. A rustling in the grass beside the road startled me and reminded me of the invisible bears. I ignored the creature (whatever it was), and aimed my binocs at the moon, and gasped at what was revealed–the crescent moon with the Pleiades just to the left. I knew I couldn’t wait another hour to see the first of the sisters getting occulted, so I just had to use my imagination to fast forward the scene in front of me. There was something awe-inspiring, something glorious, something majestic about the whole thing that stayed with me as I lay in my sleeping bag that night, and as I packed up in the rain the next morning. The sense of wonder at the beauty of the cosmos and the power of creation keeps coming back to me as I remember that unforgetable sight.
Bring on the next clear night!
