Good things 'comet' to those who wait

The comet we were looking for has a catalogue number/name. Not an easily rememberable name though. 

The number/name is:

Comet C/2023 A3 Tshuchinshan-Atlas

I'll just refer to it as the comet.

Anish, my father, had decided to try and capture an image of it because the comet was brighter than expected. We hosted a small-scale event at Rocky Ridge (our usual campsite) on 29th September for a few interested people who had already attended our camp. (Camping Under the Stars)

That was a good decision.

According to my dad, the comet was hardly visible during that event, even through the 10 inch telescope, so he was in two minds whether to visit the farm again the next day to photgraph it. At the event, only one participant was able to get a picture.

10PM on 30th September saw us nested comfortably at our usual cottage on the farm. My sister and I, that is. My parents stayed awake up until 12 clicking pictures and not resting comfortably in the cottage. The plan was to wake up at 4AM to image the comet.

At this point, it is necessary to get into a bit of trivia to understand exactly what a comet is.

A comet is a piece of rock in space that releases gases when it nears the Sun. They move in eliptical orbits, coming from either the Oort Cloud or Kuiper Belt depending on their orbital periods; the short period ones come from the Kuiper Belt, while the long period ones come from the former.

C/2023 A3 Tshuchinshan-Atlas is a long-period comet, taking a staggering 80,000 years to orbit the Sun, meaning it was last seen during the time of the Neanderthals, who were likely too busy argueing about who should get the fire-wood to notice a spectacular rock with a tail in the sky.

Perhaps they didn't see it, for

(a) the comet may have not intersected with the Earth's plane

(b) it might have been too dim

(c) they didn't realise it was anything but a cloud

(d) they were sleeping

Where was I?

Oh, right.

4AM was exceptionaly clear. The Winter Milky Way (a fainter arm of our residential galaxy)

was right overhead, with Orion claiming the centerpiece. We (my father and I) set up a DSLR camera, an astrophotography telescope (SEESTAR ZWO S50), and a couple of Insta cameras.

Moving on...

As I was trying to do something to the telescope that has not a word invented for it yet, my father let out an exclamation of pure shock.

He probably said, "This is crazy!" more times that night (morning) than I have ever said in my entire life.

He pointed to the DSLR camera where he had been trying to take a picture of the comet.

Image

I'm down-playing my excitement a bit.

I was absolutely stunned.

And then I looked at where the camera was pointing and was able to see only the hills which dotted the landscape. The camera managed to capture the comet without the head actually being visible. In other words, the camera captured the tail of the comet.

I was even more absolutely stunned.

In retrospect, that was a rather unremarkable thing to be stunned about.

After which, I pointed my telescope at the comet.

After a while...

I was so stunned it was not only unbelievable (my stunned-ness) but completely ridiculous.

To my complete lack of joy, the amazing view on my tab did not get saved and the only reminder of it is the Instagram reel here

It was amazing.

I think I already said that.