August was a fine month for eclipse chasing, ending with the last major lunar eclipse for many years — and a trip to catch it from a scenic site.
Two eclipses in two weeks! On August 12, 2026 I was in Spain to see the total eclipse of the Sun. My report on that successful expedition with the Capture the Atlas tour group is here.
Two weeks later, on August 27, the alignment of Sun, Earth and Moon was still in effect, producing a major eclipse of the Moon. The Full Moon passed into the Earth’s dark shadow, called the umbra, turning the Moon deep red.
Solar and lunar eclipses always come in pairs, two weeks apart. But the lunars associated with a total solar eclipse are usually either barely visible penumbral or minor partial eclipses. Having a major lunar eclipse paired with a total solar is rare, and seeing both is even rarer.
Nov. 23, 2003 total solar eclipse over AntarcticaNov. 8, 2003 total lunar eclipse from home
I had to look back to November 2003 for when I last saw a total lunar eclipse and a total solar eclipse two weeks apart. And I had to travel to the ends of the Earth for a flight over Antarctica to see the latter.
However, as the chart below illustrates, the August 27 lunar eclipse was not total. At mid-eclipse about 4% of the Moon’s disk remained outside the umbra and still bright white, as that northern part of the Moon was still seeing the Sun in the lunar sky, albeit partially eclipsed by Earth.
During solar eclipses the Sun must be 100% covered to be total and to reveal all the wonders of a total solar eclipse. A 99% partial is not good enough; it is arguably just 1% of the experience.
But in a lunar eclipse, a 96% partial (as it was on August 27) is close enough to being total to show most of the effects of full total eclipse (i.e. a red Moon) that appears when 100% of the Moon is immersed in the dark umbra. So this was almost as good as a total and well worth a chase.
Picking the Site
All charts courtesy EclipseWise.com. Thank you Fred!! Click on the image to take you there.
Lunar eclipses can be seen from the half of the Earth where it is night – the white and grey zones in the map above for this eclipse. While I could have watched the August 27 eclipse from home, I decided to “chase,” not so much to seek a clear hole in clouds this time, but to seek out a scenic foreground for wide-angle shots.
I had a few sites in mind in southern Alberta. Leading up to eclipse day, forecasts consistently showed Waterton Lakes National Park in the extreme southwest corner of the province as having clear skies on eclipse night. What was worrying was the now-ever-present smoke of summer, from forest fires in B.C. and Montana. Would it be clear, but murky?
Cloud Predictions from AstrosphericSmoke Predictions from AstrosphericAfternoon Cloud
Nothing ventured …. So I headed south to Waterton hoping for the best. Upon arriving in the afternoon the sky was cloudy, but that was as forecast. Clearing wasn’t supposed to happen until the evening.
On site and ready to be eclipsed!
And it did! I arrived on site before moonrise to now mostly clear skies, to set up my observing gear for the evening: two telescopes — a 120mm refractor to shoot through and a 90mm refractor to look through, and a MSM Nomad tracker with a camera for wide-angle shots and a panorama with the Milky Way at mid-eclipse.
My eclipse site by day, the day after the eclipse.
The site was one I knew well from previous visits. It is the Maskinonge viewpoint on the prairie overlooking the wetlands below, and with a view toward the Rocky Mountains and peaks around the Waterton townsite to the south.
The site is a sacred place to the local Siksikaitsitapi (Blackfoot) people who have performed annual rituals here for hundreds, if not thousands of years. The Full Moon tonight was the litamatapapittssko Moon — the “Moon when leaves change colour.” Below is an illustration of all 13 Blackfoot Moons, in a display at the Waterton Lakes Visitor Centre.
But tonight the Moon itself was going to change colour.
Shooting the Eclipse
The Moon rose amid retreating horizon cloud, but soon cleared the cloud bank for telescopic close-ups with the initial partial phase underway. (Click or tap on images to bring them up full screen.)
The partial lunar eclipse with the Moon rising in eclipse. In a single 1/5th second exposure with the Askar AP120 telescope at its native f/7 focal ratio for 840mm focal length, and with the Canon R5 at ISO 200.
The rising Full Moon had a dark bite taken out of its bright disk, a bite that would grow larger as the Moon entered more deeply into the umbra.
The Full Moon in partial eclipse rising over Maskinonge Pond. In a blend of two exposures: a long 3.2-second untracked exposure for the sky and ground, blended with a short 1/4-second exposure for the Moon. Both with the RF15-35mm lens at f/2.8 and 35mm, on the Canon R at ISO 200.
The scene with the partially eclipsed Moon casting a golden “glitter path” onto the water made for a striking scene I hadn’t planned on. But the wide lens (at 35mm) nicely captured the view and the iridescent clouds around the Moon.
As the Moon entered more deeply into the umbra the moonlight diminished and what would have been a bright moonlit night turned dark with the summer Milky Way revealed to the west over Vimy Peak.
This is a 180º panorama taking in the red eclipsed Moon, at left, and the Milky Way and galactic core, at right, over the Maskinonge wetlands in Waterton Lakes National Park. All exposures for both ground and sky were 30 seconds at f/2.8 with the Canon RF15-35mm lens at 24mm, on the astro-modified Canon R at ISO 6400. The Moon comes from a blend of 8 shorter tracked exposures.
This was the panorama I was after and that dictated the site.
It is a blend of exposures taken near mid-eclipse about 10:15 pm MDT — untracked for the ground, tracked for the sky, plus shorter exposures for the Moon’s disk itself, to better portray the scene as the eye saw it. As good as today’s cameras are, they still cannot record the high dynamic range of brightness of a lunar, or solar, eclipse. Shooting and blending multiple exposures is still required.
I had to make last-minute changes to settings, opting to shoot at a much higher ISO (6400) than I normally would, to keep exposures short (30 seconds each for the main ground and sky segments), due to Waterton’s infamous winds buffeting the camera. The wind was calm for most of the evening, but of course picked up at mid-eclipse!
Mid-eclipse in a blend of 7 exposures from 1/8-second to 8-seconds with the Canon R5 at ISO 100, on the Askar APO120 refractor at its native f/7 for 840mm focal length.
Having shot the panorama, I turned my attention to the telescope, which I had been using over the previous hour and a half to shoot close-ups of the ever-increasing partial eclipse.
But I wanted a set taken close to mid-eclipse. Again, the great range of brightness from the sunlit side to the shadowed Moon called for a range of exposures, seven in this case (what the Canon R5 camera can shoot automatically), from 8 seconds down to 1/8 second.
The longest exposure picked up the faint stars of Aquarius surrounding the Moon, with Sigma Aquarii at lower left the brightest; it was obvious in the eyepiece of the visual telescope. That scope showed the subtle blue-grey tint along the edge of the Earth’s shadow, from sunlight filtering through the ozone layer in our upper atmosphere.
This is a composite illustrating the passage of the Full Moon through the northern portion of Earth’s umbral shadow. The sequence runs from right to left, as the Moon moved west to east through the shadow and against the background stars of Aquarius.
I kept shooting with the telescope, to capture the final partial phases. I wasn’t so ambitious as to shoot every few seconds for a time-lapse. I did that at a similar eclipse in September 2015 and the result is here on YouTube.
This time I shot enough frames to create the composite above, showing the progress of the Moon through the umbra, as it moved from west to east against the stars, right to left here with north up.
As a result the Moon “draws” Earth’s large circular umbral shadow it is moving through. The effect was particularly pronounced at this eclipse, with the Moon passing along a chord across the northern portion of the umbra, which out at the Moon’s distance is three times the diameter of the Moon, as you can see above.
A deep total eclipse with the Moon moving through the centre of the umbra would not have been as effective at revealing the circular shape of the umbra in such a composite. I was glad to have had clear skies this night! Because …
When is the Next Eclipse?
The next such “red Moon” (a full total eclipse) is not until December 31, 2028. But we don’t see it well from Alberta, as the Moon sets at dawn just as totality begins. Eastern North America sees nothing of that coming eclipse; Asia and Australia are the favoured areas to see it (in white below) on New Year’s Day, January 1, 2029.
The Americas are poorly placed for the next total lunar eclipse.
Then, as shown below, we have a run of two more total lunars six months apart in 2029: on June 26 and December 20. But neither of those is well-placed for western Canada. As the charts below show, locations much farther east are the places to be.
Not a good view in June 2029 from home.Nor 6 months later in December 2029.
For my area, the next major lunar eclipse, a total, that we see well in its entirety, is not until October 8, 2033 (as below). Another seven years!
There’s a “tetrad” of four total lunars in a row in 2032-33, but we in western Canada see only the last in the series, charted here.
We’ve been spoiled of late, with a string of total lunars in recent years visible from here — just in the last 18 months we’ve had two: on March 3, 2026 (shot from home), and on March 14, 2025, which was another Waterton eclipse I blogged about here.
The other links below will take you to my reports on earlier lunar eclipse adventures, as most have required a chase to find clear skies on cloudy winter, spring and autumn nights. The August 2026 event was the first summer (i.e. warm!) lunar eclipse I’d seen since 2007.
But for my area we are entering a seven-year lunar eclipse drought, with the eastern hemisphere about to have their turn enjoying the coming lunars.
A self-portrait of the triumphant eclipse chaser. In a single 8-second exposure at f/2.8 with the RF15-35mm lens at 15mm on the Canon R at ISO 6400.
Just like total solar eclipses, seeing a total lunar eclipse before 2033 (at least for me) will require travel to far off locations. I’m willing to chase some, but not all, total solars. I’m not so sure about total lunars!
So this might have been my last deep red Moon for quite a while. But it was a good one with which to end my lunar eclipse chases … for now!
After an absence of seven years it was great to be back under the fabulous sky of the Southern Hemisphere, home to the best deep-space splendours. Here’s my sky tour…
From 2000 to 2017, the year of my last previous trip Down Under, I had been travelling to the Southern Hemisphere, sometimes to Chile but most often to Australia, once a year or biennially. There’s just so much to see and photograph in the southern sky.
This is a panorama of the southernmost portion of the Milky Way, from the stars Alpha and Beta Centauri at far left, to Sirius, the brightest nighttime star, at far right. The second brightest star, Canopus, is at bottom. This is a panorama of 3 segments, each a stack of 10 to 20 sub-frames, each 4 minutes at ISO 800 with the Canon Ra and Canon RF28-70mm lens at f/2.
While the deep-south sky represents perhaps just 30 percent of the entire celestial sphere, it contains arguably the best of everything in the sky: the best nebulas, the best star clusters, the best galaxies, and certainly the best view of our own galaxy, the Milky Way.
No astronomical life is complete without a visit (or two or more!) to the lands south of the equator, ideally to a latitude of about 20° to 35° South. For the first time since 2017, I headed south this past March, in 2024. My belated blog takes you on a tour of the great southern sky.
NOTE: My blog is illustrated with lots of images, so it might take a while to load. Click or tap on an image to bring it up full screen. For the technically curious, I have included gear and exposure details in the captions.
Far Away in Australia
Yes, it’s long way to go — a 15-hour-flight from Canada. But Australia is my favourite destination down under. I can speak the language (sort of!), and have learned to drive on the left. Even after a seven year absence, my brain took only a few minutes to adjust once again to most of the car, and opposing traffic, being on the “wrong side” of me.
After a visit with the “relos” (Aussie for “relatives”) in Sydney and on the Central Coast of New South Wales, I loaded up all the telescope gear my folks had been kindly storing for me for two decades, and headed inland. Not really Outback. And not really “bush.”
My destination in March, as it usually has been on my many visits (this was my 12th time to Australia), was Coonabarabran in the Central West of NSW. It bills itself as the “Astronomy Capital of Australia.”
And rightly so, as nearby is the Siding Spring Observatory, Australia’s largest complex of optical telescopes (check the slide show above). I had a great tour again — thanks, Blake! — of the big 4-metre AAT that towers over the rest of the observatories on the mountain.
The Upside-Down Sky
A pano of Mirrabook Cottage, my astronomy retreat site.
My home for the first week in “Coona,” as the waning Moon got out of the way, was the Mirrabook Cottage off Timor Road, ideal as an astrophoto retreat. The view to the east and south (the view above) is partly obscured by gum trees, but not enough to prevent shooting targets around the South Celestial Pole, such as the Magellanic Clouds, as I show below.
The scope came with me this time, but the mount had been in Oz for 20 years.
The first order of the day upon arriving was to sort out my gear, to see if it was all working. My main Oz telescope, a legendary Astro-Physics Traveler refractor that I had stored in Australia since the early 2000s, came home with me in 2017, for use at the 2017, 2023, and 2024 solar eclipses in North America (the links take you to blogs for those eclipses) .
So this year I brought another little refractor with me, the diminutive Sharpstar 61mm EDPH III. Many of the images I present here I shot with the Sharpstar, on the veteran Astro-Physics AP400 mount I show above, which had lived in Australia for two decades. It came home with me this time, to use the very next month at the April total eclipse in Quebec. My blog with the final music video from that eclipse is here.
But I also brought a little star tracker, an MSM Nomad, which I reviewed here, just in case the old iOptron tracker I had in Australia, but hadn’t used since 2017, did not work. I needn’t have feared. It was the new Nomad that had issues, with the iOptron serving me well as a back-up for wide-angle Milky Way images.
This is a wide-angle view of the constellations of the northern hemisphere winter, but seen from the southern hemisphere looking north on an austral autumn night, March 3, 2024. Shot on the MSM Nomad tracker, for a blend of 4 x 2-minutes tracked at ISO 1600 for the sky and 2 x 2-minutes untracked at ISO 800 for the ground.
From Mirrabook looking north affords a fine view of a sky familiar to us northerners — if we stand on our heads! Orion and the stars of “winter” are there but upside-down for us, with the constellations that are overhead for us at home, now low in the north.
I shot all the images presented here during my two-week Oz astrophoto extravaganza. I had clear skies every night, bar for a couple that were welcome breaks!
This is a wide-angle view of the southern Milky Way, here from Carina and Crux at lower left up to Orion and Monoceros at upper right. On the MSM Nomad tracker, for a stack of 10 x 3-minute exposures at ISO 800 with the TTArtisan 11mm lens on the Canon Ra.
South of Orion, and overhead from Australia (as I show above), is the dimmer section of the Milky Way passing through constellations once part of the huge celestial ship Argo Navis, now broken into Puppis the Aft Deck, Vela the Sails, and Carina the Keel, the latter containing the second brightest star in the night sky, Canopus, second only to Sirius nearby in Canis Major.
Puppis and Vela
Though somewhat obscure and hard to pick out as distinctive patterns, Puppis and Vela are filled with deep-sky wonders.
The biggest is so vast it covers as much sky as a hand length, held at arm’s length. But it is totally invisible to the eye, even aided by optics.
This is a framing of the vast Gum Nebula in the southern Milky Way, that sprawls over the constellations of Vela and Puppis. This is a stack of 12 x 5 minutes at ISO 1600 and f/2 with the Astronomik 12nm H-alpha clip-in filter, blended onto the base unfiltered images from a stack of 14 x 3 minutes at f/2.8, all with the Canon RF28-70mm lens at 28mm on the red-sensitive Canon Ra camera, and on the MSM Nomad tracker.
This is the huge Gum Nebula, discovered in 1955 by Australian astronomer Colin Gum, working at the Mt. Stromlo Observatory near Canberra. It might be a star-forming nebula shaped by stellar winds, or it might be the exploded debris of a nearby supernova star.
Within the Gum Nebula in Vela is a smaller complex of arcs and fragments I show below. This definitely is a supernova remnant, one that exploded about 11,000 years ago some 900 light years away. But it, too, is large, making it a perfect target for the little refractor, and a telephoto lens, with both versions below.
This frames most of the intricate arcs and loops of the Vela Supernova Remnant (SNR). This is a stack of 8 x 10-minute exposures shot through an IDAS NBZ dual narrowband filter to bring out the nebulosity, blended with a stack of 12 x 5-minute exposures with no filter. All with the filter-modified Canon EOS R camera, on the Sharpstar 61 EDPH III refractor at f/4.4. This is the large Vela Supernova Remnant in a stack of 15 x 2-minute exposures with the Canon RF135mm lens at f/2 on the Canon Ra at ISO 1000. With a broadband filter.
The area is also home to rich fields of bright star clusters (two are below), many intertwined with wreaths of star-forming nebulosity. These rival or exceed the more famous northern targets of the Messier Catalogue compiled between 1774 and 1781 by Charles Messier. It took several more decades before astronomers from the north catalogued the sky to the south.
This is the bright, large and colourful naked-eye star cluster NGC 2516 in Carina, aka the Southern Beehive Cluster, near the bright star Avior (Epsilon Carinae) in Carina. This is a stack of 8 x 5 minute exposures with the Sharpstar 61mm refractor at f/4.4 and the Canon R at ISO 800.This frames a pair of contrasting and superb star clusters in Puppis: rich NGC 2477 on the left and sparse but bright NGC 2451 on the right, the latter centred on the orange star c Puppis. This is a stack of 8 x 5 minute exposures with the Sharpstar 61mm refractor at f/4.4 and the modified Canon R at ISO 800.
Carina and Crux
Continuing deeper down the Milky Way we come to its most southerly portion rich in nebulas and clusters that outclass anything up north. This is also the brightest part of the Milky Way after the Galactic Centre.
This is the showpiece nebula of the southern skies, the Carina Nebula. The bright and rich Football Cluster, aka the Black Arrow Cluster or Pincushion Cluster, is at upper left. With the Sharpstar refractor at f/4.4 and filter-modified Canon R at ISO 3200 for narrowband filtered shots and ISO 800 for unfiltered shots.
The Carina Nebula is larger than the more famous Orion Nebula farther north. In the eyepiece it is a glowing cloud painted in shades of grey and crossed by intersecting dark lanes of dust. Photographs reveal even more intricate details, and the magenta tints of glowing hydrogen.
At upper left is the “Football Cluster,” as Aussies call it, or the Black Arrow Cluster, aka NGC 3532. It is surely one of the finest open star clusters in the sky. John Herschel, who in the 19th century compiled the first thorough catalogue of southern objects, thought so. I agree!
This is the Southern Pleiades star cluster surrounding the naked eye star Theta Carinae. This is a stack of 8 x 5 minute exposures with the Sharpstar 61mm refractor at f/4.4 and the Canon R at ISO 800.
Below the Carina Nebula is a brighter and bluer star cluster known as the Southern Pleiades, or IC 2602. Like many of the targets I show here, it is visible to the unaided eye and is a fine sight in binoculars, which are all you need to enjoy most of the southern splendours.
This two-segment telephoto lens panorama extends from the colourful stars of Crux, the Southern Cross at left, to Carina at right. This is a panorama of two segments, each a stack of 12 x 2-minute exposures with the Canon RF135mm lens at f/2 on Canon Ra at ISO 800.
East of the constellation of Carina is the iconic and colourful Southern Cross, or Crux, a star pattern on the flags of Australia, New Zealand and several other austral nations.
This frames the dark Coal Sack nebula in Crux, the Southern Cross. This is a stack of 8 x 5 minute exposures with the Sharpstar 61mm refractor at f/4.4 and the filter-modified Canon R at ISO 800.
Next to Crux is the darkest patch in the Milky Way, called the Coal Sack. Looking like a dark hole to the eye, in photos it breaks up into streaky dust lanes surrounded by famous star clusters, like the Jewel Box above it. Like many southern clusters, the aptly named (by Herschel) Jewel Box contains a variety of colourful stars.
This is the region around the star Lambda Centauri, with the Running Chicken Nebula or IC 2948, at bottom, surrounding the star Lambda Centauri and the loose open star cluster IC 2944. This is a stack of 12 x 5 minute exposures with the Sharpstar 61mm at f/4.4 and filter-modified Canon EOS R camera at ISO 800.
Between Carina and Crux sits another wonderful field of clusters and nebulas, among them the more recently named Running Chicken Nebula. Can you see it? Above it is the Pearl Cluster, NGC 3766, also notable for its colourful member stars.
This frames the small constellation of Musca the Fly below the Southern Cross, with the dark nebula called the Dark Doodad, part of the Musca Dark Nebula Complex. This is a stack of 12 x 2 minute exposures with the Canon RF135mm lens at f/2 on the Canon Ra at ISO 800.
Below Crux is the little constellation of Musca the Fly (many southern constellations are named for rather mundane creatures and objects). One of Musca’s prime sights is the long finger of dusty darkness called the Dark Doodad — yes, that’s its official name!
The Magellanic Clouds
All the targets I’ve shown so far reside in our Milky Way. The next two objects, named for 16th century explorer Ferdinand Magellan, are extra-galactic.
This is the southern Milky Way in Carina, Crux and Centaurus arcing over Mirrabook Cottage. At right are the Large and Small Magellanic Clouds. This is looking south to the South Celestial Pole which is near centre here.
The Clouds are other galaxies beyond ours, but nearby. They are among the closest galaxies and are considered satellites of the Milky Way. Both are visible to the unaided eye, looking like detached bits of the Milky Way. For deep-sky aficionados, they are reason enough to visit the Southern Hemisphere!
This frames the entire Small Magellanic Cloud, a member of the Local Group of galaxies and a companion of our Milky Way Galaxy. The field is 7.5 by 5º. This is a blend of a stack of 8 x 10-minute exposures at ISO 3200 through an IDAS NBZ narrowband filter, and a stack of 12 x 5 minute unfiltered exposures at ISO 800, all with the Sharpstar 61mm refractor at f/4.4 and the filter-modified Canon R.
The Small Magellanic Cloud contains many star-forming nebulas that glow in hydrogen red and oxygen cyan. It is most famous for its spectacular neighbour, the great globular star cluster called 47 Tucanae, here at right. It is not actually part of the SMC — 47 Tuc is more than ten times closer, on the outskirts of our Galaxy.
As rich as the Small Cloud is, it pales in comparison to its bigger neighbour, the LMC. The Large Magellanic Cloud is almost a universe unto itself. Astronomers have devoted their careers to studying it.
This is the Large Magellanic Cloud, some 160,000 light years away. This is with the Sharpstar refractor in a stack of 12 x 10-minute exposures at ISO 3200 through an IDAS NBZ dual-band (OIII and H-a) filter that adds most of the nebulosity, blended with a stack of 20 x 5-minute exposures at ISO 800 with no filter for the main “natural light” background content.
The biggest attraction in the LMC, one visible to the eye, is the Tarantula Nebula, the mass of cyan at left here. Many of the LMC’s nebulas emit light primarily from oxygen, not hydrogen. But figuring out which object is which can be tough. The LMC is filled with so many nebulas and clusters — and nebulous clusters — that no two catalogues of its contents ever quite agree on the identity and labels of all of them.
Northern Fields
The Magellanic Clouds are in the deep south, close to the Celestial Pole. A trip south of the equator is needed to see them. But on my trips to Australia I often like to shoot “northern” fields that I can’t get well at home in Canada.
This frames the variety of bright nebulas and dark dust clouds in and around the Belt and Sword of Orion. It shows how the bright Orion Nebula is really just the visible tip of a vast complex of gas and dust in Orion. This is a stack of 14 x 2 minute exposures with the Canon RF135mm lens at f/2 and on the Canon Ra at ISO 800. The lens had an 82mm URTH Night broadband filter on it to enhance nebulas somewhat.
This is the Belt and Sword of Orion the Hunter surrounded by interstellar clouds. It’s low in my south from home, but high in the north down under. This is with a telephoto lens, not the telescope, captured under better and more comfortable skies than I have in winter in Canada.
This is the nebula-rich region of Monoceros the Unicorn, containing the bright Rosette Nebula, NGC 2237, below the fainter and larger complex of nebulosity, NGC 2264, which contains the small (on this scale) Cone Nebula. This is a stack of 16 x 2 minute exposures with the Canon RF135mm lens at f/2 and on the Canon Ra at ISO 800.
Nearby is another nebulous field but fainter, in Monoceros the Unicorn, containing the popular target, the Rosette Nebula, at bottom here. But there’s much more in the area that shows up only in long exposures under dark skies.
At top is the large Seagull Nebula, an area of mostly red hydrogen-alpha emission and is a region of star formation. At bottom is the small Thor’s Helmet, mostly emitting cyan oxygen III light. This is a blend of a stack of 12 x 10-minute exposures at ISO 3200 with the IDAS NBZ filter, and a stack of 12 x 5-minute exposures at ISO 800 with no filter. All with the Sharpstar 61mm refractor at f/4.4 and Canon EOS R camera.
A target I’ve often had difficulty shooting for one technical reason or another is the Seagull Nebula straddling the border between Monoceros and Canis Major. I got it this time, together with a contrasting blue-green nebula called Thor’s Helmet, at lower left. It’s the expelled outer layers of a hot but aging giant star called a Wolf-Rayet star.
The OzSky Star Party
After a successful week at Mirrabook, I packed up and moved down the road to the Warrumbungles Mountain Motel, home to the annual OzSky Star Safari I have now attended six times over the years. (I see as of this writing it is almost sold out for 2025!)
A colorful sunset over the telescope field at the OzSky star party, March 15, 2024, at the Warrumbungles Mountain Motel, near Coonabarabran, NSW, Australia.
Handheld with the RF28-70mm lens at 28mm on the Canon R.
Limited to about 30 people, OzSky (flip through the slide show above) caters to ardent amateur astronomers from overseas who want to revel in the southern sky, aided by the presence on site of a field of giant telescopes, delivered and set up by a great group of Australian astronomers, who show everyone how to run the computer-equipped scopes. And with tips on what to look at beyond the top “eye candy” targets I’m presenting here.
The views of the southern splendours through these 18- to 25-inch telescopes are well worth the price of admission!
Our group photo of the 2024 OzSky T-shirted attendees and hosts.
It is always a great week of stargazing and camaraderie. If you are thinking of “doing the southern sky,” I can think of no better way than by attending OzSky. While it is primarily geared to visual observers, a growing number of attendees have been lured into the “dark side” of astrophotography.
March and April, austral autumn, are good months to go anywhere down under, as you get views of the best of what the southern sky has to offer. The Milky Way is up all night, just as it is six months later in our northern autumn. That’s when I made my complementary Arizona pilgrimage this year, blogged about here.
The Dark Emu Rising
One of the great naked-eye sights at OzSky in its usual months of March or April is the Dark Emu rising after midnight.
This frames the Australian Aboriginal “Dark Emu” made of dark dust lanes in the Milky Way as it rises in the east. This is a blend of four tracked exposures for the sky and one untracked for the ground, all two minutes at ISO 1600 with the TTArtisan 11mm full-frame fish-eye lens on the Canon EOS R camera.
It is an Australian Aboriginal constellation made of lanes of obscuring interstellar dust, from the Coal Sack on down the Milky Way to past the Galactic Centre. It is obvious to the eye — a constellation made of darkness.
Sagittarius and Scorpius
Late at night in the austral autumn months, the centre of the Galaxy region in Sagittarius and Scorpius comes up, presenting such a wealth of fields and targets it is hard to know where to begin.
There’s no richer and more colourful area of the sky than this field encompassing the Galactic Center in Sagittarius, at left, and the constellation of Scorpius seen in full here at centre and at right. This is a stack of 6 x 2 minute exposures with the Canon RF 28-70mm lens at f/2 on the Canon Ra at ISO 800.
Yes, we can see this area from up north, but there’s nothing like seeing Scorpius crawling up the sky head first, and then shining from high overhead by dawn.
This is a mosaic of the tail of Scorpius — from the bright star cluster Messier 7 at upper left embedded in bright Milky Way starclouds, to the large star cluster NGC 6124 amid dusty dark lanes at lower right. This is a stitch of 3 segments: each a stack of 6 x 2 minute exposures with the Canon RF135mm at f/2 on the Canon Ra at ISO 800.
Fields like this in the Tail of Scorpius are below my northern horizon at home. And it would still be low from a southern U.S. site, where natural green or red airglow can spoil images. I’ve never had an issue with airglow in Australia. Oz skies are as dark and clean as I have ever experienced.
The Southern Milky Way
The grand finale of a night at OzSky, or anywhere in the southern hemisphere in autumn, is the celestial sight that I think ranks as one of the sky’s best, up there with a total solar eclipse.
This is an all-sky view of the centre of the Galaxy region in Sagittarius and Scorpius nearly overhead before dawn on an austral autumn morning in March 2024. The Milky Way stretches from Aquila at bottom left to Crux and Carina at upper right. This is a stack of 4 x 4 minute tracked exposures, at f/2.8 with the TTArtisan 11mm full-frame fish-eye lens on the filter-modified Canon EOS R at ISO 800.
That sight is the jaw-dropping pre-dawn panorama of our Galaxy stretched across the sky, with the bright core overhead and its spiral arms out to either side. It is obvious as a giant edge-on galaxy, with us far off-centre. The image above frames the entire Dark Emu.
One of my projects this year, for a moonless night with little likelihood of clouds coming through, was to work photographically along the Milky Way, down from Orion into Puppis and Vela, through Carina and Crux, and into Centaurus, then finishing with the galactic core area of Scorpius and Sagittarius.
This panorama takes in a 180° sweep of the Milky Way: from Sagittarius, Scorpius and the Galactic Centre at left, to Orion, Gemini and near the galactic anti-centre at right. This is a panorama of 11 segments, each a stack of 8 to 12 exposures, of 2 or 3 minutes each, with the Canon RF28-70mm lens at f/2.2 or f/2.8 on the Canon Ra at ISO 800.
The resulting 180º panorama, made of 11 segments shot at 32° South, was an all-night affair, interrupted by a nearby tree and the oncoming dawn. It complements one I shot six months later from 32° North in Arizona. That panorama is included in my Comet Chasing blog.
The Moon Returns
OzSky, as are all star parties, is timed for the dark of the Moon. By the end of the week, with everyone well and truly satiated by starlight and dark skies, the crescent Moon was beginning to appear in the west. (Yes, that’s a young waxing evening Moon, here near Jupiter on March 14, 2024.)
The waxing crescent Moon near Jupiter in the western twilight sky on an austral autumn evening. This is a blend of exposures to retain the detail around the bright Moon and corona glow: long (2.5s) for the sky and stars, and three shorter (0.6s, 0.3s and 1/6s) exposures for the Moon.
It was time to pack the telescopes into their trailers, and for everyone to head back home, whether that be in Australia or elsewhere in the world.
If You Go…
If you travel to the Southern Hemisphere, at the very least take binoculars and star charts, especially simple “beginner” charts, as you’ll be starting over again identifying a new set of patterns and stars.
For astrophotography, a star tracker is all you need, plus of course a camera and lenses. Focal lengths from fish-eye to telephoto can all be put to use. But many of the best fields are suitable for framing with no more than a 135mm lens, as I used for some of the images here.
But take good charts to identify the location of the South Celestial Pole in Octans the Octant. With no bright “South Star,” it can be tricky getting that field into your polar alignment sighting scope. Once aligned, I tend to leave my rig set up where it is, and not have to repeat the process each night. That’s why it’s nice to base yourself under dark skies at a cottage like Mirrabook, and not be on the road and at a different site every night.
The Sharpstar 61mm scope on the Star Adventurer GTi mount.
If you want to have a telescope with you, one of the current generation of small (50mm to 70mm) apo refractors is ideal, either to look through or shoot through. For imaging, a small equatorial mount is essential, but can be tough to pack with its tripod. And you need to power it. The little Sky-Watcher Star Adventurer GTi powered by its internal 8 AA batteries, but on a collapsible carbon fibre tripod, is a good choice.
For visual tours, the OzSky Star Safari will provide all the eyepiece time on big scopes you could ask for. It is imaging where you are on your own to come fully equipped and self-contained.
When will I be back? Perhaps not in 2025. But 2026 is a possibility, maybe a little later in austral autumn to get the Galactic Centre up sooner and higher before dawn. I’ve been to Australia in the winter months of June and July and it’s too cold! May perhaps.
My Oz observing site — with camera gear accompanied by a roo. Or a wallaby? Note the cover over my aligned tracker rig at right.
If you go once, you will be bitten (we hope not literally by one of Oz’s killer critters!) by the southern sky passion.
The only downside is that when I get home, often to poor weather, but even when skies are clear, I find that the home skies tend to lose their excitement and attraction. They just can’t compare to the great southern skies.
The Amazing Sky 