Comet McNaught

Two days ago, Oki, my lifelong friend, came over with his enormous, new pair of binoculars, and we had a look at Comet McNaught as it set slowly just after the Sun's bedtime. We went up to the local park at 8.15 p.m., just as the Sun was setting in the orange sky, and Oki set his enormous binoculars up on a tripod. The binoculars were much too heavy to hold steadily by hand, but when mounted on a tripod, they were as good as a telescope, and much more comfortable to look through.
And with the naked eye, (no binoculars needed), there was the comet staring us in the face. It was far more spectacular than Halley's Comet of 1986. Its little icy head was all lit up like a burning ball, and its wispy tail streaked out behind it. When seen through the binoculars, the sight was even more impressive, and as the sky grew darker, the comet looked better and better. By 8.45 p.m., it was at its best, before it fell into a layer of cloud and was seen no more.
A group of people had collected in the park, including a woman pilot who found this unusual, natural event very beautiful and emotional. She had just been going through some problems and worries in her life, and this astronomical body really helped to brighten her spirits, like a little gift from Heaven. I've always thought that astronomy helps to put life's problems into perspective, and seen from the long-term, astronomical viewpoint, the world's worries quickly become unimportant, temporary and insignificant.
A baby-boomer who came up to the park, had brought his own home-made, 10 inch reflecting telescope with him, and we all had a look through that. As the comet had disappeared into the clouds by this stage, we looked at the Orion Nebula, a fantastic sight that I had never seen before, and the Pleides. It was easy to count the Seven Sisters through the telescope, when with the naked eye, I could only see six. The Dog Star, Sirius, was shining out brightly, way up in the zenith, and all the other beauties were there, in the beautiful, star-rich southern hemisphere sky. Northern hemisphere astronomers kill for a view like ours, and we southerners are spoilt with our amazing night skies.
A young Japanese woman was in the park, sharing our telescopes and binoculars, and she was very excited to see the sights and talk to us all about astronomy. She enjoyed the relaxed, friendly nature of our little group, and she hoped she would be able to come back to Australia for another holiday. Life is much more formal and serious in Japan than here, and she loved the contrast.
I'm writing this page from Hobart, (capital of Tasmania for overseas readers), where I have come for a few days to visit my mum and brother. It's lovely cool summer weather down here, a great escape from the heatwave conditions farther north. I plan to go up to the top of Mount Wellington, (the 4,600 foot mountain that lies as a backdrop to the city), and have another look at the comet from there. It should be a fantastic sight. The comet will disappear from view in a few days time, and it won't be back for another two million years, so I want to make the most of it. I'll try to put of photo of it on my blogpage, but as I'm not very experienced with how to do these things yet, it may or may not work...

Later: Since speaking to you last, I have been up to the top of Mt. Wellington. There was a beautiful view of the sunset, with clouds and mist rolling in and out of the scene, but there was no sight of the comet. Maybe I'll try again one evening when the weather improves ...

Later still: I finally saw the comet again last night, not at the top of the mountain, but down here, standing in the street with all the street lights on. Being farther south in Hobart than in Sydney, the comet is much higher in the sky, relative to the Sun, and it is best seen at 10.00 p.m., well after sunset. Being seen in a dark sky makes all the difference. The comet was extremely obvious in the sky, much brighter and with a longer tail than in Sydney. It was a very exciting sight, far more dramatic than in Sydney. It looked far more like the comets you see in mediaeval pictures, with bright heads and long, streaming tails. I plan to look again tonight from Mount Nelson, away from the street lights, and I should get an even better view.

If you are interested in comets, but don't know much about them, have a look at the following website:
http://www.nineplanets.org/comets.html

My son, Adam, who now lives in Victoria, half way between Sydney and Hobart, rang me with very interesting news. "Mum, I was driving home from work tonight and I saw a big meteor!"
"That was no meteor, Adam. That was a comet!"
"What's the difference then?" he asked. I explained the difference, and he was most surprised to hear that the very same comet would return in the future. Ah, the joys of a modern, fact-free education - most young people leave school full of "skills" and short on facts. At an age when their brains can soak up so much knowledge, nothing is fed to them. It's a real crime, and I pity young people for their lack of a good education, through no fault of their own.