Success in spite of Adversity - Comet McNaught!
After Vincent Norby's depressing post on early Saturday morning, I retired to bed with little chance of seeing Comet McNaught, purported to be the brightest comet since Comet West in 1976. Professor Norby and I had projected that Comet McNaught would only be visible from the northern hemisphere for one more evening, Saturday, January 13th, after which it would primarily be visible in the southern hemisphere. And the weather forecast here in Franconia was for cloudy skies all the way until Sunday afternoon. Needless to say, it was a restless night.
Saturday noon, still plagued by clouds over Mittelfranken, I looked toward the south, which was bathed in a reddish, twilight sort of glow on the horizon. Perhaps, I thought, they have clear skies in and around Munich. A quick look at a couple of webcams in Munich and Augsburg confirmed this speculation: it was sunny in southern Bavaria. "Come on, get ready!" I said to Frau Meyer. "We are heading south." I would explain in the car.
We hit the road around 14.45 hours, and to my pleasant surprise, Autobahn traffic on the A3 and A9 was not too bad. The mild winter is keeping the ski traffic down, I thought, as we blasted along at 190 kmh (118 mph) toward München. The clouds were still with us as we crossed the Altmühltal, but the ever brightening southern horizon kept us going. Sunset was around 16.30, so we needed to find an appropriate place for viewing by then, a place with a clear shot at the western horizon. According to Professor Norby's calculations, Comet McNaught would set around a half-hour after sunset, not giving us a lot of time, and of course, meaning that the comet would be somewhere within the twilight glow.
The weather was still cloudy as we descended into the Danube valley, but then, miraculously, as we crossed the Danube, the clouds parted and we were bathed in warm, golden sunshine. Weird. I had, however, experienced this phenomenon before on a couple of occasions. The first time was with Stingray and his then concubine on a trip over the Alps to Italy in 1996. The second was a recently as a month prior on my way to München: north of the Danube, cloudy and gray, south of the Danube, brilliant sunshine. I figure it may have something to do with the nearby Alps (perhaps Föhn weather?) . The Danube often is noted in German weather forecasts, giving different forecasts for those north and those south of the Donau. On a metaphysical level, this phenomenon corresponds to the old Roman limes fortifications, located just north of the Danube, which separated the Germanic tribes from the Roman settlements 2000 years ago. North of the Roman lines, the dark, brooding Germanic soul is shrouded in Nebel, whereas the Roman side is bathed in the light gaiety of Mediterranean sunshine. It was a dramatic transition, almost like landing in Oz and going from black-and-white to Technicolor.
The skies kept clearing, and it was around 16.00, so I started thinking of the best place for viewing. I am not too familiar with the area, and I didn't want to get off on some backroad, not being able to find an open look at the western horizon. I remembered that the Autobahn rest area, Holledau, located in the Holledau hops growing region, supplying the Munich beer industry for centuries, and about 45 km north of München, had a kind of terrace facing west. So we exited and, sure enough, we had a pretty good view of the western horizon. The wife and I stilled our hunger with a quick bite to eat in the restaurant, and at half past four went outside as the sun descended beyond the hop fields and pine forest on the horizon.
As soon as the sun was down, I saw it. Comet McNaught was clearly visible as a point of light in the orange glow of sunset, at about 11 o'clock from the setting sun. Wow, I thought, it is pretty damn bright, easier to see than even the planet Mercury, which I had viewed on occasion and being the closest planet to the sun, is always to be found, when you can see it, in the glow of twilight. I reached for my binoculars, which showed the wisp of the comet's distinct tail, as always trailing in the direction opposite the sun. Cool! I pointed out to Katja where to look, and she picked it up right away, too. I could even make out the tail without the binoculars. None of the other travelers seemed to notice Comet McNaught, however; this is typical in an age where the stars and skies have little influence on daily living. I didn't have a camera, so I tried in vain to capture the moment on my cell phone camera. The resolution just wasn't there. Oh well. The sight alone was very impressive, and we enjoyed our half-hour with Comet McNaught immensely.
And that was it. On Sunday evening, the comet was only 10 minutes away from the sun, and too close to see. We had a bit of light clouds on the horizon in Fürth, making detection of the cosmic visitor impossible. The Australians have a shot at it this week, and then Comet McNaught will fade rapidly, vanishing forever from view.
Saturday noon, still plagued by clouds over Mittelfranken, I looked toward the south, which was bathed in a reddish, twilight sort of glow on the horizon. Perhaps, I thought, they have clear skies in and around Munich. A quick look at a couple of webcams in Munich and Augsburg confirmed this speculation: it was sunny in southern Bavaria. "Come on, get ready!" I said to Frau Meyer. "We are heading south." I would explain in the car.
We hit the road around 14.45 hours, and to my pleasant surprise, Autobahn traffic on the A3 and A9 was not too bad. The mild winter is keeping the ski traffic down, I thought, as we blasted along at 190 kmh (118 mph) toward München. The clouds were still with us as we crossed the Altmühltal, but the ever brightening southern horizon kept us going. Sunset was around 16.30, so we needed to find an appropriate place for viewing by then, a place with a clear shot at the western horizon. According to Professor Norby's calculations, Comet McNaught would set around a half-hour after sunset, not giving us a lot of time, and of course, meaning that the comet would be somewhere within the twilight glow.
The weather was still cloudy as we descended into the Danube valley, but then, miraculously, as we crossed the Danube, the clouds parted and we were bathed in warm, golden sunshine. Weird. I had, however, experienced this phenomenon before on a couple of occasions. The first time was with Stingray and his then concubine on a trip over the Alps to Italy in 1996. The second was a recently as a month prior on my way to München: north of the Danube, cloudy and gray, south of the Danube, brilliant sunshine. I figure it may have something to do with the nearby Alps (perhaps Föhn weather?) . The Danube often is noted in German weather forecasts, giving different forecasts for those north and those south of the Donau. On a metaphysical level, this phenomenon corresponds to the old Roman limes fortifications, located just north of the Danube, which separated the Germanic tribes from the Roman settlements 2000 years ago. North of the Roman lines, the dark, brooding Germanic soul is shrouded in Nebel, whereas the Roman side is bathed in the light gaiety of Mediterranean sunshine. It was a dramatic transition, almost like landing in Oz and going from black-and-white to Technicolor.
The skies kept clearing, and it was around 16.00, so I started thinking of the best place for viewing. I am not too familiar with the area, and I didn't want to get off on some backroad, not being able to find an open look at the western horizon. I remembered that the Autobahn rest area, Holledau, located in the Holledau hops growing region, supplying the Munich beer industry for centuries, and about 45 km north of München, had a kind of terrace facing west. So we exited and, sure enough, we had a pretty good view of the western horizon. The wife and I stilled our hunger with a quick bite to eat in the restaurant, and at half past four went outside as the sun descended beyond the hop fields and pine forest on the horizon.
As soon as the sun was down, I saw it. Comet McNaught was clearly visible as a point of light in the orange glow of sunset, at about 11 o'clock from the setting sun. Wow, I thought, it is pretty damn bright, easier to see than even the planet Mercury, which I had viewed on occasion and being the closest planet to the sun, is always to be found, when you can see it, in the glow of twilight. I reached for my binoculars, which showed the wisp of the comet's distinct tail, as always trailing in the direction opposite the sun. Cool! I pointed out to Katja where to look, and she picked it up right away, too. I could even make out the tail without the binoculars. None of the other travelers seemed to notice Comet McNaught, however; this is typical in an age where the stars and skies have little influence on daily living. I didn't have a camera, so I tried in vain to capture the moment on my cell phone camera. The resolution just wasn't there. Oh well. The sight alone was very impressive, and we enjoyed our half-hour with Comet McNaught immensely.
And that was it. On Sunday evening, the comet was only 10 minutes away from the sun, and too close to see. We had a bit of light clouds on the horizon in Fürth, making detection of the cosmic visitor impossible. The Australians have a shot at it this week, and then Comet McNaught will fade rapidly, vanishing forever from view.
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