"I WANT a fireball.. a big, fat, long, colourful and noisy fireball. As if in response, a blinding white flash zipped instantaneously from cloud to earth followed by a resounding crack." 16-18 November 1999 (Tanjung Resang / Teluk Sari, Malaysia)
We had been talking about this trip forever. Tanjung Resang was a half-hour drive further up north from Teluk Godek Resort. The isolated gravel road leading to the observation site is not a well-trespassed one. It seemed almost amazing that anyone could ever have suspected the existence of this place which has been favourably compared to the open skies of Hawaii. I can understand why now. Ten coconut trees diffused in an area the size of eight football fields. To the south, a small hill grew from the otherwise unobstructing physical landscape. In the east, the South China Sea dominates. Winds touch the lovegrass-saturated vicinity, making it rather chilly. Light-dispersing clouds ride the winds for most part of the night carrying with them, the threat of sporadic showers. Under the setting moon, our shadows drew longer.
In the distance, thunder rumbled. No one wanted their equipment to take a shower, so other than binoculars, the Celestron ShortTube 80 and C90, all the major league names of Takahashi, Astrophysics, and TMB stayed comfy and dry in their owner's car. The first constellation to be recognized was Cassiopeia. At about the same time, a couple of us spotted the first meteor for the night. Cheers and claps erupted spontaneously. The night was still young at 8.30pm and we all had high hopes of better skies later.
Patches of stars played hide-and-seek with us behind the billowing curtains of clouds. A thick thundercloud smogged the eastern horizon, moving southwest at an alarming rate. Distant lightning flashed followed by rumbling echoes. It seemed to be headed our way. We started to practise scrambling for cover. False alarm, the storm passed south down the coast without touching us.
As the night wore on, the thick fog of clouds started to disperse revealing the potential of Resang as the clearest window to the universe I have ever witnessed to date. I'm beginning to understand the phrase "diamonds in the skies". The quality cut of the stars is absolutely brilliant. (De Beers, Tiffany's and Mondial need polishing up.) Still, no one brought their equipment out. Everyone seemed to be waiting for something else. Under these exceptionally clear seeing conditions, even the small scopes shine in performance. Naked eye, it was a picturesque scene. Gradations in the magnitudes of the stars were remarkably obvious, especially in the Pleaides where I could see five bright blue-white stars plus a dimmer one on the side. Using averted vision, there seemed to be two more in the M45 cluster. The beehive cluster was easily detected, as were a few other star clusters. The fainter stretch of the Milky Way from Vela and Carina to Monoceros was equally discernible. Through the ShortTube 80, M42 in Orion already had an incredibly detailed cloud-like structure. The nebula's tendrils fanned out in distinctive shades. This was something I thought I'll only be able to see in a picture, not in a spotting scope. The observed colour was something of an off-green and grey mix, unlike the characteristic pink in astrophotographs.
I am impressed. Suddenly, every other site that I had ever been to in this region wilted to ashes in comparison. This is one of the best gateways to heaven. It is also the most accessible site for the non-motorist from Singapore.
Standing out in the open grounds, watching the immediate transformation in the atmosphere was amazing. The veiling and unveiling of stars by errant clouds, the scatter of isolated meteors, inter-cloud and intra-cloud lightning. Mentally, I set down the conditions for the ultimate meteor sighting: I WANT a fireball.. a big, fat, long, colourful and noisy fireball. As if in response, a blinding white flash zipped instantaneously from cloud to earth followed by a resounding crack. *WHOA!* I reeled back a little, temporarily blinded as lightning whipped a close-up surprise on me. It was close. Too close. And whoever said Nature doesn't have a crack sense of humour. (I didn't mean *that* kind of fireball! I raised a mental fist at Nature, who I imagine, no! wait.. who I hear rolling on the cloudy floor, rumbling away in laughter.) My friends who'd witnessed my split-second look of shock were laughing too after I told them about my dream fireball. *sheesh*
Soon, I sought refuge in the tent, driven there by the cold and the unforgiving insects out feasting on us. The rest of the group kept their eyes peeled for streaks of light. Meteor sightings (and lightning) were increasing in volume, causing much ado among us. Throughout the night, dispersed shouts and exclamations continued. Two hours later at 3.30am, there was a major buzz of sudden activity as everyone scrambled around frantically outside. I couldn't make out what the commotion was about but before I could pop my head out of the tent to take a look, Tingchuan entered the tent. Almost immediately after, I heard a swooshing sound that was growing louder by the second. A fierce patter of rain beat down on the tent. As sudden as it came, it disappeared ten minutes later. It left quite a few things soaking wet.
After this downpour, I stayed out of the tent till dawn. We were threatened with passing showers two more times that night. 4am, Leo had risen from the east and between the few of us, there was almost a meteor every few minutes. Most of these were springing up across the constellations (Orion, Canis Major, Gemini, Taurus, Capella, Cassiopeia, Perseus, Hydra) surrounding Leo. There were also several earth-crossing satellites. The meteors we saw appeared with trails that lasted from one to five seconds. There were at least two short but fat meteors leaving smoky trails. (I caught one and heard about the other.) I was still hoping for my dream of a fireball, but none materialized. There were a few random meteors that didn't seem to belong to the Leonids as they were not radiating away from Leo.
An hour before the sun, Venus rose with a brilliance rivaling Sirius in Canis Major. It became an honoured source of light pollution. Not long after, the final curtain of clouds fell across the sky and dawn approached. Now please let the second night be good.
[17th / 18th night]
Eight of us decided to try out the observing site next to the beach front at the resort. It was unobstructed from the North to the Southeast side. Loo had requested for the lights at the resort to be turned off, which the manager kindly did. Five scopes were set up on the beach: Takahashi FS78, Celestron Firstscope, C5, C90 and the Astrophysics Traveller.
Again, patchy skies which looked worse than the first night. Closer to midnight, there was a gap in the clouds and Jupiter had its break. The scopes were quickly trained on it. This was one thing I *had* to see through Loo's Astrophysics. All the circumstances could be considered ideal. The image of Jupiter was more than magnificent.
Before I describe what I saw, I have to admit something: Other than the pictures that Voyager took of the planets in our solar system, I have never been impressed, dazzled, wowed, or struck by any image with ground-based telescopes before. This would have to be my first experience, and I am impressed, dazzled, wowed, AND struck by the image. In all honesty, even the 6-inch apochromatic scope at the Science Centre's Observatory was no match. Quite possibly, this is not a contest of equipment, but of environmental factors.
Jupiter's Great Red Spot was easily detected, along with its two major red bands. There were numerous fainter bands at the poles. Was I dreaming? I don't think so. It was almost like looking at an image taken off the Voyager with probably 30% less details. Colour shades range from the palest cream yellow to brownish-red. It looked like an artist's palette with intricately blended colours that still remained distinctive while flowing across its cream surface. Now THAT is one heck of a scope on one heck of a planet.
The sky fogged over and looked set to stay that way for the whole night. Lightning, thunder and clouds swept the eastern expanse with a thick and heavy brush, signing off our last night at Mersing. The Leonids weren't too disappointing this time round. There were many faint meteors but no fireballs. I have a vague suspicion that we could really be having a storm if not for the monsoon season. But in comparison to what I saw last year at Sentosa's Tanjung beach, I have no complaints.
By Lin . 20th November 1999, Saturday.
