Night produces a very different feeling to day.  Familiar locations take on a distinct atmosphere created by the absence of light, as the darkness imbues a sense of being in another world.  With restricted sight other senses of sound, temperature and smell become more vivid.  Furthermore, as my familiarity with the night sky has improved through astronomy, I’ve felt an increasing impression of physical separation.  Just being outside at 3.0 a.m. in the morning when most others are in bed, one becomes not only more aware of the night’s unique senses but a magical feeling of Earth’s movement through space itself.

  The Milky Way & Magellanic Clouds from Slab Hut Creek, South Island, New Zealand 

When travelling I like to read and learn about the new places I visit, in order to gain insight into the people, their culture, what’s happening and what makes them tick.  For this purpose during my recent trip to New Zealand I enjoyed reading two very different but equally fascinating books:

• Long Cloud Ride by Josie Dew, which describes Josie Dew’s epic 6,000 mile cycle journey around New Zealand, and…

• Squashed Possums by Jonathan Tindale. ‘Written’ by a caravan (that’s right!) assisted by its occupant. Possums describes life off the beaten track in New Zealand, specifically Jon’s life in a semi-derelict caravan in the wilderness.  The experience provides an amusing but insightful description of New Zealand, New Zealanders and the impact of living in such a remote location on humankind.  Apart from the practical and physical issues, the impact is sometimes profound – for the caravan and Jon – I was particularly struck by the description of their experience of the night sky in the back country, which powerfully captures something of my own feelings of being outside on a clear night, alone in the darkness.

I put my book down, pulled not one but two jumpers on and ventured outside to look at the cloudless night sky.  Brrr! True, it was cold, freezing probably but the view was breathtaking.  The Moon was out, or at least some of it was, and the Milky Way stretched across the sky like a colossal halo embracing the planet.  The Southern Cross stood proud, forever pointing north (?).  I turned around to look at my caravan, its windows filled with light, surrounded by the stars and darkness, reminding me of a satellite.  Lost and far away, suspended in space, I imagined an astronomer observe me from afar.

I stood there a while, quietly watching and taking in the view.  I tasted the chilled air, with a sense of time winding down a gear.  The there was a palpable jolt, like a quite earthquake that left no physical impression.  There was no crack in the earth, but there had been a change nonetheless – a profound and intoxicating sensation.

For a moment, I was disconnected.  I felt strangely without form, somehow insubstantial and insignificant.  Lost, like a speck on a rock in the darkness.  At least it might have been a moment, it may well have been much longer.  Moments may have been minutes, minutes might have been hours.  Time ceased to have any meaning.

I’d stumbled across something that is not easy to express.  It was the feeling of utter isolation, of removal not just from society, but from the world and then finally being removed from my own sense of self.  And yet, something intangible was filling this void and it pushed a tickle up my spine.

The sense of isolation quickly dissipated and instead of feeling lost, I had the profound experience of being part of everything – the earth, air and stars – all of it.  I was utterly overwhelmed by this new awareness. My subconscious struggled desperately to find a cultural reference point to cling to.  David Bowman swam past, cast adrift in the final moments of 2001: Space Odyssey, calling out to Bowie’s Major Tom.

And then, as quickly as it happened, the moment passed.  I was returned to reality, with something like an elastic twang. I’d not so much been thrown but catapulted back to this small patch of damp grass on a cold night, having been in an unexplained place.  What on earth was that?  One thing I was sure of, I was desperate for a steaming hot mug of tea.