The final entry in this series is a belated trip report of my first visit to a dark site 4 years ago. My recollections are based on my personal log, photographs, and accounts of the trip from my fellow travelers.
It was the summer of 2002 and I was back home for the break. I had discovered the burgeoning local amateur astronomy community online, attended star parties in town, and got to know the few stalwarts of the group who remain active in the local amateur astronomy circle till today. There were plans to drive up north for a 3-days-2-nights astronomy getaway. The site is situated in a rural coastal area in the state of Johor, Malaysia. Dark sky camp-outs were not new to "elders" of the group, some of whom had logged no less than a dozen stargazing trips out of the country. I decided to tag along when I realised that the school term was starting and that I was not going to see the southern skies until a year later. Thankfully, the 15x60 binoculars I mail-ordered for this trip arrived on time.
It was a diverse group that consisted of high school students, college students, working adults in their 20s, early 30s, people with scopes, people without, people who knew zilch about astronomy before the trip,... The drive to the site took 5 hours and at least 15 of us --- the most I've seen on similar trips I've gone for --- together with our scopes and mounts, were packed into two 9-seater vans. Our equipment took up more space than we did, and that was typical, so said the veterans. It would be a nightmare if we had to unload the van for customs inspection. Fortunately we didn't need to.
The ride would have been rather dreary if not for the boisterous few in my van who went into karaoke-mode during the journey. We arrived at the site at about 3 or 4 in the afternoon with ample time to set up our scopes and get sunburned. It was my first time so close to wildlife --- buffalos roamed and left droppings all over the field where we observed. Human inhabitants share the land with cattle, goats, chickens, seagulls, crabs, coconut trees and palms. We lodged at a spartan family-run beach-front accomodation less than a mile away that was unbearably hot during the day and had no warm water supply. Cellphone reception was non-existent. That was quite an experience for a city denizen who had never ventured very far from population centers!
It didn't begin well on the first night. I started observing at about 8pm. The sky was still bright and the open cluster M7 in Scorpius didn't look much different from what I would usually see in the city. The first hour of our session was interrupted by a thunderstorm that moved in as swiftly as it receded. Most were unprepared for the rain this early at night. In our frenzy, trash bags were thrown over scopes, mats wrapped up, and we retreated into the nearest shelters, our tents, which weren't designed for thunderstorms.
It didn't clear up completely after the rain, but there was enough of a clear patch to reveal the splendours of the galactic center region. Back on campus, I had glimpsed sections of the Milky Way in the Cygnus region with averted vision, but that was the first time I saw the Milky Way directly. It was confusing just scanning the Scorpius-Sagittarius region through my binoculars. I revisited the urban sky favorite M7 but it didn't stand out as much from the background stars as it did in the city. Yes, stars formed the background.
We had an owner of a 8" Mag 1 Portaball in our midst. The scope was an ingenious piece of engineering with its elegant and economical construction. The primary mirror was housed in hollow sphere resembling a cauldron, which rests on friction pads. A truss tube connects that to its cylindrical secondary mirror support. It's amazingly compact when it's all disassembled and packed up. An avid stargazer during his college days, the owner was more than willing to share views of the heavens through his scope and allow even newbies to move the scope around! He would announce his findings whenever he got to a new object. I was struck by the sight of the open cluster M4, with individual stars sharp and resolved, through the Portaball. Most of us were impressed that the Veil Nebula, an object masked by city skies, could be seen through the scope with proper filtration. The Lagoon Nebula appeared almost photographic. Same for the Trifid Nebula, where I could clearly see dust lanes, and I discovered that the Swan Nebula did resemble... a swan. It was no surprise that a line frequently formed at the Portaball throughout the night.
My 15x60 was not left in the cold. While sights seen through the modest binocular cannot compare with those seen through the other scopes, it was useful for star-hopping practice and eye-training on faint objects. Besides, I wanted to know the instrument's limits in dark skies. I revisited open clusters and globulars, including M22, M55, NGC 5723, M25, M18 etc. The Andromeda Galaxy's elongation was clear through the binoculars and its companion was barely visible. My favorite for the night was M33, the Triangulum Galaxy. Usually invisible in city skies due to its low surface brightness, it was revealed to be a diffused patch easily missed if one was not looking for it.
4am - It was time for comet hunting. I had brought along charts for comets Hoening and C/2002 O6 (SWAN). I starhopped to the Hoenig's field but couldn't confirm if the spot I saw was a faint star or a fuzz. Elsewhere, I tried for C/2002 O6 (SWAN), but couldn't convince myself if I saw it. Clouds moved in at about 4:30am and spelt the end to the first night's session.
The start of the second night showed all symptoms of a thunderstorm, but rain didn't materialize. The sky cleared miraculously at about 8pm. Venus was the evening star whose glow could be seen through obscuring clouds. ω Centauri was relatively low but still visible. M7 was easily seen with the naked eye. The Milky Way was visible even before the sky had turned completely dark. With stellar fuzzes all over, the sky looked like a huge open cluster magnified many times. I logged globular clusters, open clusters, nebulae, planetary nebulae, binocular asterisms and galaxies. Compared to the previous night, more objects were seen but I shall recount the more noteworthy ones.
Everywhere I looked, the star field looked like a page out of the photo gallery section of an astronomy magazine. It was mesmerizing just scanning the heavens aimlessly. If there was anything I could ask for to enhance that experience, it would a parallelogram mount for the binocular and a lounge chair. But a pristine night sky calls for more challenging objects. I had to make the most of the night by staying focussed --- so I thought then. I sighted the famous radio galaxy Centaurus A (NGC 5128) in my binoculars early on, but didn't remember if I saw any dust lanes. The first half of the night was spent on prominent clusters and nebulae in and around the galactic center region, for eg, M55, NGC 6352, 6397, M26, M18, M24, etc. I tried for Hoenig when Cepheus got high enough, but again I couldn't confirm if I did see it. Proceeding northward from the galactic center, I added more clusters to my log --- M2, M92, M71, M13, M15. Feeling adventurous, I decided to go for the faint fuzzies --- planetary and diffused nebulae that I would not easily see in poorer skies. The Helix Nebula was the first. It looked bright, diffused and showed hints of structure even through the binocular. NGC 246 in Cetus was an unplanned find less obvious than the Helix. At about 2am, I saw NGC 281 in Cassiopeia, easily mistaken for another Milky Way star cloud. Then there are planetaries I tried to look for but didn't see, namely NGC 7662 and M76.
My eyes felt strained and heavy by 3am and I had to take a nap. It was the first time I slept under the stars, with nothing between me and the heavens. It felt so dream-like to wake up seeing stars all around. 5am - the familiar winter constellations and stars had risen... Orion, Sirius, Aldebaran. But the stars were visibly subdued by high clouds. With the fainter stars now out of naked eye reach, the sky looked like what I'd see in a city on a good night. I just took a nap... now where had the stars gone?
I had one last task before dawn. Hoenig was a lost cause, but C/2002 O6 (SWAN) was high enough in the sky to try for. Using a star chart I prepared, I found the star field of C/2002 O6 and sighted the comet. The tail-less fuzz was unmistakeable since no other deep sky objects were supposed to be in the field. That's +1 for my comet tally and the last entry in my log for the trip.
4 years later, in August this year, I visited the same site for the 4th time, with a largely different group. In the intervening years, the dirt road passing by the site had been paved, warm water supply installed at our regular accomodation, cellphone signals now covered the area, and the southern horizon brightened so slightly at night by the nearby developing town. Ironically, I've also grown to find the ability to use a cellphone while I'm on holiday an unwelcomed convenience. Smitten by aperture fever (even binocular fans get them!), I had bought myself a 16x70 and retired the 15x60 I brought along for the first trip. With neither the financial resources to get a telescope nor the means to transport one very far from light polluted skies around my home regularly, I've stuck to binoculars and even come to prefer them over telescopes.
Sometimes, I wonder why some of us stay in this hobby when we marvel at the same objects years after years. After all, the sky doesn't change very much over the course of a human lifetime. But it just feels different, to look at M42 today, a week later, or a year later with a whole new group at a different location. I'm not alluding to the weather or seeing conditions here. What is drawing us back to the feeble beams of light that had traveled for hundreds and even millions of light years just to reach us? I'll attempt a partial answer. At a wine tasting class I attended, a sommelier remarked that their appreciation, enjoyment and consequently their review of a wine is affected by factors external to the bottle --- the ambience, the conversation, the company... It is not just about the content of the bottle. Perhaps amateur astronomy bears that similarity.
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