Chasing the Moon

Had a most unusual pre-dawn experience on Saturday.

Set my alarm for 4am as that was the time the MacMillian Planetarium website said the lunar eclipse would begin to be visible. Planned to head outside every 15min or so to snap a quick photo of the event's progress, and then rush back to the welcoming warmth of my wee abode. Made ready by downloading a map of the night sky to ensure I would be facing in the appropriate direction for optimum viewing, and recharged the camera battery so I wouldn't panic searching for a fresh one at the last minute.

At 4am, the plan seemed to be getting off to a good start. The alarm sounded, I rose, grabbed the map and camera, headed outside, and ... nothing was visible. Undeterred, I reset the alarm for 6am certain things would be clearer then (the planetarium website indicated the whole eclipse would take some time to complete). Again, nothing could be seen from my front yard. While I noted low cloud covering most of the sky save for a thin fringe along the horizon, unlike the moon, I remained un-phased.

Should any unsuspecting motorist have been cruising about the West Sechelt area at that hour, they would likely be taken aback by the vision of a middle-aged woman sporting little more than her flannel jams weaving about the place whilst craning her neck against the upper portion of the front windshield of her car in a desperate effort to spot the elusive eclipse. Mercifully few souls ventured outside at the hour so my erratic driving was no cause for alarm. And no garden gnomes or lawn jockeys were hurt in the process.

After exhausting all hope of a West Sechelt sighting, the Grape rolled down to the Sechelt waterfront not far from Momzy's place. Again I was met by a complete lack of sparkle, twinkle, or anything remotely resembling a heavenly glow.

As I was about to return home, I noticed a woman walking her dog. Asked if she had seen anything. She replied in the negative. Suddenly, as if out of the blue, another woman approached from the opposite direction. Turns out she, too, was trying to take in the scheduled sky show. I suggested she hop in my pre-warmed car and we could go hunt the moon down together.

And so it was that I spent the better part of an hour in the company of a total stranger while chasing down the moon. I believe her name was Lisa. Told her I was very determined to see this lunar eclipse because it would likely be my last opportunity since the next one isn't due until 2014. Lisa went quiet for a bit, and then said she lost her mother a few years back to breast cancer. Somehow, that shared experience opened up a door of some sort and she began telling me a great deal about her life - places where she had lived, jobs she had, funny things she had done with friends... We check out Davis Bay (nada) and the hill behind the hospital (zilch). When we got out of the car and stumbled across the grass to the beach at Porpoise Bay, Lisa assured me we had nothing to fear as she always carried a knife when she went out alone after dark! (Confess I had a fleeting thought of someone finding my flannelette-covered body on the beach the next day and wondering how it got there - but it was a very fleeting thought as I really had no sense of fear or foreboding the whole time I was with Lisa.) As we were getting back into the car, the interior light showed one side of Lisa's face (the side farthest from me) was one larger bruise. Earlier she had mentioned a "supposed boyfriend" and I wondered if he had gifted her with the wound. I didn't want to ask, in case it made her uncomfortable or disrupted the easy conversation we had been having up until then. It was then that Lisa said something very funny (I forget what) and the two of us left the provincial park amid hoots of laughter and high spirits.

When we finally determined the cloud cover was preventing any opportunity of seeing anything no matter how good the vantage point, I drove Lisa back to her digs on Cowrie St. She thanked me for turning what should have been a very disappointing night into something fun and memorable. As she was about to leave, she gave me a warm hug and assured me she would make every effort to see the next lunar eclipse, and she'd be sure to say "hello" to it from me! A memorable night indeed!