Night Viewing

Though I knew where to look, I couldn't see it. Not right away.

The weather didn't cooperate for the first few nights. And on one night that I had a shot at capturing Comet Tsuchenshan-ATLAS, DW and I were hosting a Thanksgiving dinner.

So, I didn't actually get out to try my second attempt at photographing this once-in-80,000-year celestial event until Wednesday evening. After dinner, I stored my camera and tripod in the back of the car and headed south, along First Line Road, toward Kars. I stopped the car on a wide gravel shoulder, that looked newly groomed, near Phelan Road.

Because there's a slight double-bend in the road, and because vehicles like to exceed the posted 80 km/h limit (I've ridden my bike along this stretch many times and seen a lot of stupid drivers), I kept my taillights and daytime running lights on, and I stood partway in the ditch.

And looked westward.

There was the faintest bit of light fading on the horizon when I got out of the car, but by the time I retrieved my D-SLR and tripod, that too was gone. I was hopeful that the comet was still bright enough to see.

In the distant sky, there was still enough light below the horizon to illuminate some light clouds and contrails from far-away airplanes. But I couldn't clearly see the comet.

After a few minutes, with the camera set up, I let my eyes adjust to the darkness, though the lights from my car were illuminating some of the field immediately in front of me. I thought I saw another contrail, high up, and dim, but I thought that it could be the comet: it was certainly in the right spot.

And then I remembered that the night mode on my smartphone could pick up a lot more than my eyes could, so I raised my phone and took a single shot.

Yes, what I initially thought was a contrail was the comet.

It's very hard to aim a telephoto lens at a target in the dark. I had already focused on a distant line of trees, thinking that would be enough for the focal length, and turned off the auto-focus. Using the hot shoe mount on the top of the camera as a sight, I pointed my new 200–500mm lens toward the comet.

And shot.

I took about five or six shots in total, zooming closer and closer each time, until I reached the maximum focal length. What's more to see when you've captured the comet once? It's not like it changes.

I stayed for a few more minutes, taking in the comet with my naked eyes, which could see it clearer now.

Two nights later, I met up with someone who I had met on Mastodon. This time, I also brought my oft-neglected spotting scope. Mike came with some binoculars.

We met at Mer Bleu Bog, and other people seemed to have the same idea. We were both able to find the comet and watched it for a bit, but we chatted most of the time and made time fly.

When I was on Twitter, I had met with so many of my Ottawa peeps. I miss that. I'm going to have to organize another IRL meetup. Meeting with Mike made me realize how much I valued those meetings.

Thanks for the company, Mike!

I took a couple of photos with my smartphone, as the sunlight died away and as the moon rose over the bog, but I left my D-SLR in the car. I had forgotten its tripod and, besides, I already had images of the comet (though, the dusk shot did pick up the comet, albeit faint).

This year has been a big one for celectial phenomena: the solar eclipse, the partial lunar eclipse, the aurora borealis, and now the comet. And, I heard that a second comet may come at the end of this month, if it doesn't break up as it goes around the sun, and there may be a nova-like expulsion of nuclear gases at any time.

Will I capture them? Maybe. Maybe not. I will try to observe them, if I can, but I think I've had enough night viewing for now.

Happy Monday!