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By John Deriso
Rigel is due north, at Orion's western "shoulder;" Betelgeuse is at his eastern "knee," and his sword points upward from his belt. The Pleiades, Saturn, and Jupiter are 30 degrees up from the horizon and all near north. And the stars spin clockwise.
We arrived in Sydney, New South Wales, on January 26th...
Australia Day. The city was jumping with festivities, many people
toting small blue flags (some had tattoo decals) with the Union Jack and
the Southern Cross. But my business partner and I were wasted from
the 18 hour flight from Dulles through LAX to Sydney. We showered,
snoozed until 5:00, changed to glad rags, then got a map and directions
from the concierge to a good seafood dinner. We hoofed it a half
mile from our hotel in the heart of Sydney to Darling Harbor. I lamented
that I had brought only two short sleeve shirts. Warm. Humid.
Before sundown, there wasn't a horizontal surface to sit on and the scene
resembled Washington's Mall on the 4th combined with New Years' Eve in
Times Square. We managed to squeeze in with a half dozen friendly
Canadians near dockside, and located some amber re-hydration fluid.
By 8:30 Jupiter shone bright, north-northeast, beside the bright Moon,
and 15 minutes later I was able to locate the Pleiades, Aldebaran and Saturn.
The lights from the harbor washed out M42, but I could clearly see Orion's
sword above his belt and orange Betelgeuse at the bottom of the constellation.
When one of the Canadians commented about the really bright "star" next
to the Moon, I took my cue and launched into a mini sky-tour. The
fireworks started at 9:00 sharp, barely sparing me the embarrassment of
running out of identifiable objects in an unfamiliar sky. I used
my Sony Mavica to fill two floppies with the laser light-and-fireworks
show. We called it a night at 10:30.
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At 3:00 a.m., Nature reminded me of my consumption of two pints of Toohey's Old. Wide-awake from the jet lag (lead?), I caught a glimpse through the bedroom window of a star in 50% cloud cover between skyscrapers. I hesitated for a second, and then reasoned that I'd kick myself forever if I didn't at least try. I grabbed my 8 x 40 Nikon binocs, the March issue of S&T, and headed for the Sydney Opera House on a peninsula away from the skyscrapers. Twenty minutes later I was under one of those famous white shells, lying on a sloped ramp facing south, with a couple of small bats high above me chasing bugs. I unfolded the S&T map to page 90, "the southern hemisphere's sky" and tried to get my bearings. The sky didn't match the map all that well. Sirius was low in the west; Canopus was easy to spot as the next brightest star to the southwest. And there was Crux, the Southern Cross, 2/3 the way to zenith and almost due south. Fascinating. I'd only seen it in pictures. I was getting the hang of it. I easily matched Alpha and Beta Centaurus, just to the east of Crux with the S&T map. Let's see... the map says draw a beeline from Beta Cent through the star at the foot of the cross, and keep going that much farther to get to Eta Carina. I swept the binocs, not knowing what to expect. There! A faint fuzzy, about the size and magnitude that I'm used to seeing for M31 from my Herndon neighborhood. And in the same 7-1/2 degree field of view, a fairly bright cluster northeast and another to the south (later at home, I identified these as NGC 3532 and IC 2602, respectively, at mag 3.0 and 1.9). I couldn't get over it, I swept the binocs a half dozen times past those guide stars to make sure I was really seeing the Eta Carina nebula. OK, now. The S&T map shows the Large Magellanic Cloud near here. I drew a bead from Sirius through Canopus and half again the distance. Nuthin'. Try from Eta Carina through Beta Carina and that much more. Nuthin'. Howcum? It's gotta be the haze, thicker near the horizon, after all it's pretty humid. I thought this thing was enormous. My confidence was shaken. There it was on the S&T map, marked with a little green square just like Eta Carina. Tried again from Sirius through Canopus, no mistaking them. Still nuthin'. Back to the S&T map... what's that fuzzy to the east, Omega Centaurus? I tried for 10 minutes, but didn't nail it. I had no idea of the size or magnitude I was looking for. One more shot at Eta Carina, and then I headed back for the hotel at 4:45 a.m., absolutely pooped.
The previous day, I had spotted The Binocular and Telescope Shop, a half block from the hotel. Closed tight, national holiday. I peered through the iron lattice in front of the window. A Discovery 12-1/2" truss Dob, maybe a dozen other scopes including Orion and Meade logos. Racks of binocs, books and accessories, Messier poster. Gotta come back here for sure. Closed Sunday, and Monday (bank holiday).
We took in a couple of IMAX shows and the Sydney Aquarium Sunday, and the Taronga Zoo Monday. The night skies were overcast.
Finally on the afternoon of Tuesday the 29th, after buying souvenirs for the family at The Rocks shopping area, we managed to find the telescope store open. Mike Smith, the owner, greeted us and had us sign the guest book. I mentioned NOVAC and my upcoming project to build a 12-1/2" truss Dob just like the one on his showroom floor. Mike showed us a photo album of prior visitors including John Dobson and Richard Berry. He offered me a newsletter that he publishes out of his store, listing maybe a dozen astronomical societies in the region. He quizzed me about my local stargazing and set me straight about the Large Magellanic Cloud: huge, in-your-face, but only visible from a really dark site... not Sydney. I was relieved, it wasn't me after all. I scoured his bookshelves and selected 3 paperback titles about CCD imaging that I hadn't seen before. While Mike rang them up, I checked his shelves and saw 8", 10" mirror blanks, cells, and diagonals. Wished we had a store like this in Northern Virginia. Mike said his ATM guru was out for the day, but check back Wednesday. No way, we had to fly to Brisbane (that's pronounced BRIZ - BIN), and come back Thursday afternoon. On a parting note, Mike mentioned a detail I never knew: Gene Shoemaker's auto accident happened when he apparently forgot, perhaps in a moment of panic, that the Aussies drive on the left.
Wednesday brought rain and forecast for more rain. We flew 1-1/2 hours from Sydney to Brisbane, and our first business contact took the whole day. But the skies cleared in the evening, and we drove 5 miles out of Brisbane, up to Mount Coot-tha restaurant. The horizon-to-horizon view was spectacular. After dinner, Crux, Orion and the planets were visible but the near-full moon bleached out hopes of faint fuzzies. Besides, we had business early Thursday morning too. Maybe next (?) time, we'll take in the Sir Thomas Brisbane Planetarium at the foot of Mount Coot-tha. The good food was gaining on me; the hotel bathroom scale read 14 stone and three, or 90 kilos if you prefer.
Thursday afternoon, back to Sydney, and Mike's store. I met Don, his ATM guru, and with the help of program NEWT we worked out the "tube" and diagonal sizes for my future Dob, assuming my 12-1/2" f/5 mirror, my NGF-DX2 focuser, and 75% illumination at the field edges of the Nagler 31mm eyepiece that I got last year. I could have jawboned all night, but these good people wanted to close up and go home. I obliged. The sky was totally overcast that night, so we settled for a great tuna-on-the barbie dinner.
Friday morning, rain. Took in another tourist attraction until 11:30, then caught a cab for the airport.
Wonderful country. Clean city, no smog (LP gas-powered
taxis and buses), friendly people, great food, and comparatively inexpensive
prices. Send me back. Preferably near new moon. It's
an awful job, but someone has to do it.