How dark is dark?

Months ago, while planning for our NZ adventure, we each grabbed onto one 'must do' from what we were reading. For Janet, it was Milford Sound. Which is not a sound after all as it is a glacial formed geological oddity (thus a fjord) vs a river formed geological oddity which would have made it a sound.

There. Now you have something to share at your next dinner party when the conversation turns to geological oddities. As it inevitably does at our dinner parties.

Milford Sound. Had I said 'Milford Fjord' it would be more accurate but you wouldn't know what I was talking about...even though it is found in Fjordland National Park. Go figure.

Speaking of geological oddities; just the other day we were exploring a tidal shelf just a few steps north of Shag Point (named for the bird...not the activity) on the east coast of the south island and found the oddest of odd geological oddities. Even odder than the famed Moeraki Boulders, these are boulders that are birthed in the sea when mud settles on skeletons of dead animals (think dinosaurs), and then builds over time into spherical boulders that, a few million years later, appear on a tidal shelf just north of Shag Point (named for the bird). Sorta like the process of a pearl; except a dinosaur is the starting point instead of a grain of sand. 

Me standing on a dinosaur pearl near Shag Point...named for the bird

The day after visiting the boulders on the east coast we looked at our calendar and discovered that our NZ adventure was hurtling towards its conclusion. The conversation went something like this...

Gerry: Wow! There is so much left to see and we are going to be leaving soon!

Janet: I guess you're right but I'm happy...I made it to Milford Sound. 

...silence

...more silence

Janet: Oh yeah...was there something you wanted to see?

Gerry: Well...the ONLY reason I came to NZ was to experience one of only five International Dark Sky Reserves in the world!

...silence

...silence

Janet: you are SUCH a nerd!!!

So out came the maps and we plotted our route from the east coast of NZ South Island, home of strange boulders just north of Shag Point (named for the bird) to the alpine majesty of Aoraki National Park - home of one of only five...FIVE dark sky reserves IN THE WORLD!!! 

I could hardly keep my pants dry I was so excited. And the trip was magnificent! We left the crashing surf of the eastern Pacific and the weird geological oddities; drove through the plains and sheep paddocks; through the foothills and wine country and, finally, into the heart of alpine wonderland. 

And it took us two and a half hours! 

Can you believe that? We experienced the geography of three provinces in TWO AND A HALF HOURS! 

We arrived in time to do two hikes before the sun went down. The hikes were memorable for Janet. All I could think about was what I would experience when that irritating ball of fire would disappear behind Aoraki to the west to release the splendour of the dark sky.


We drove back to our campsite after looking at the mountain vistas and glacial magnificance; tucked into a dinner of steak and potatoes and (patiently?) awaited sunset. 

And the sun did eventually go down. 

A dark sky reserve is so named due to its absence of pesky light pollution that detracts from the celestial splendours that emerge after the setting sun. Wanting the full effect of the dark sky reserve I convinced Janet that we should wait in the van until it was good and dark so that we could open the van door at just the right time for the breathtaking view of galaxies, supernova, rings of planets, gaseous nebulae and all else that the universe might throw at us. 

So that you might gain an appreciation of the depth of darkness, I snapped this picture of Janet awaiting the celestial splendour while in the van:

If you are wondering how I got the picture of her with such a beautiful smile, I timed the snapping of the shutter at the moment she uttered the word 'please' when she said: Would you PLEASE put that stupid camera away!!!

Do I know my wife?!?

The conditions were perfect. It was dark. REAL DARK. I slide the van door open and,  with bated breath, looked up to the heavens to see this: 

Apparently, as we were in the van awaiting our magical celestial baptism a system blew in; and with it a thick cover of cloud blocking our view of anything that was more than 500 feet above our heads. 

So how dark is dark? Really, really frickin' dark. 

As we tucked in that night not being able to see our fingers waving in front of our eyes our conversation went something like this: 

...silence

...more silence

...yet more silence

Janet: Milford Sound was sure nice.  

Gerry: It's a fjord

Janet: You're such a nerd!