Perseids 2023

It's been too long since I've packed up the scope and headed out to a dark sky venue. With 2023 coming together as a very favorable Perseid Meteor Shower event (little moonlight, shower maximum predicted for early morning Eastern time, and a weekend to boot) I head out to an AirBnB in Monterey, VA under Bortle 2 skies.

The forecast for Saturday evening has been dismal, but as I step outside at 9:30pm it's actually clear. I place the HEM27 mount outside and wait to see if conditions will hold. By 10pm it is beautiful, so I attach the 80mm Vixen and power up the iPolar in hopes of doing some pre-midnight non-meteor photography. But as I'm getting my polar alignment down I become increasingly aware of flashes over the northwestern horizon - what some might call "heat lightning". Pulling up the radar shows a line of slow-moving storms to the north. It's hard to determine if they might skirt my spot and only deliver a sprinkle, allowing me to leave the setup covered and ready to go after the storm, or instead bring a downpour. Not wanting to risk it I reluctantly put everything back in the house by 11pm. I set the alarm for 3am in hopes that there still may be a chance of glimpsing the Perseids.

I turn over and check the clock. It's 2:30am (amazing how often that seems to happen with one's internal alarm clock) so I lumber to the front door and step outside. I am greeted by amazingly clear, dark skies. The northeastern horizon in the distance lights up periodically as the thunderheads slowly continue their push eastward. My goal of coming away with a keeper shot of a Perseid blazing through the late summer night sky might yet be fulfilled! I quickly align the camera tracker on Polaris and get the camera focused. I decide to frame a region of Andromeda and Pegasus anchored with brilliant Jupiter in the corner and kick off the program for a series of 1-minute exposures. Come on Perseids, do your thing!

I keep an ongoing tally in my head as they sporadically streak across the heavens here and there, but they always skirt the trap I have so carefully laid. About 15 minutes in I begin to notice that I am losing stars near the zenith. Clouds are creeping in from the south, slowing reclaiming the sky, and in a few minutes even Jove is a feeble remnant of his original beacon. As if to tease me, the areas of the northern sky remain transparent with vain Queen Cassiopeia seemingly taunting me for not having chosen her at the outset of my quest.

I stubbornly persist a few minutes, trying to give these pokey clouds a chance to move on rather than repointing the camera. But finally my patience is exhausted and I give in. I pause the program and swing the camera around to the southwest where the sea-goat has begun his plunge below the horizon. It always delights me how in a Bortle 3 venue I can readily see the outline of so many constellations that, from Towson, are represented by only a handful of stars bright enough to punch through the light pollution. The intervalometer program engages again and the click of the shutter tells me I'm back in business. 

Another quarter hour passes and I notice a new enemy has attacked - my laptop screen is now glistening with dew that has formed on it. I could kick myself for not bringing along a few hand warmers that could be laid alongside the camera lens as a defense. I pause the program again to clear the dew and look for a bright object to check my focus. Ahh, the Moon has joined the party as she crests the mountain range to my east. While so often an unwelcome guest to a star party, this morning her thin crescent with sublime Earthshine is a fine target to help me ensure my focus is spot on. 

Assessing the heavens I opt to shift the frame to the Queen and her husband in hopes that a meteor will course through their celestial thrones. My meteor count continues to tick up with some that appear enticingly close to the region I've framed. Perhaps I have bagged a cool Perseid meteor shot?! 

All too soon the final enemy of my endeavor - dawn - is closing in as she begins to reveal the silhouette of the eastern mountains with her glow. Overhead is still reasonably dark so I continue to let the camera run, hoping for that one brilliant streak of light to flash through the frame. Finally I yield and close up shop, bringing the damp tools inside to be cleaned up and dried off. In the couple of hours I've seen about 60 Perseids and 4 strays. One was a beautiful fireball that dropped from Cassiopeia into Lyra sporting a green tint and momentary train. Visually, it has been a nice year for the Perseids and far more than I expected 24-hours earlier given the gloomy forecast.

I'm tired, but it's like Christmas morning and I am too impatient to wait to see what's on that SD card. Swipe right, swipe right, swipe right - sigh, yet another year where the Perseids have proven more recluse than Howard Hughes when it comes to having their photo taken. I have spent a couple hours fishing in the celestial sucker holes and come away empty despite what looked like promising nibbles. And yet like fishing, it was not really so much whether I landed that fireball on film, it was the rejuvenation of spirit found under a stary sky that sent shooting stars in all directions. And in that, the night and this trip have been a complete success.