The Hesperides visit Altona

The telephone rang; it was late afternoon 26th July, a soft sunlit day under a calm skyscape. "Plod, jump on the Bus, meet you at Altona Pier, an aurora's in the offing, come sunset", was the excited, but terse message from a mate who lived not far from the Pier. I had at the time been content enough to be sitting in my creaking rocking chair, soaking up the Sun, the same rocking chair that mimics the sounds my bones make more often than not these days. When this 'atmospheric friend' calls, he is generally on the money with respect to matters of the horizon. Despite my aches from yesterday's long walk I was out the door within 5 minutes after grabbing the backpack with the camera and tripod pre-loaded. I was on the Bus in 10 minutes and alighted at the Altona Bus terminus within 30 minutes. Stopping off at the Bakery to snuffle a coffee scroll and a takeaway brew, I reached the iconic Altona Pier with about a quarter of an hour to spare before sunset. My friend was waiting, rugged up like a Polar Explorer and ushered me, well practically pushed me along the Pier to a favourite place where I could set up the camera. He was quite animated, though the low clouds on the western horizon and the generally weak approaching sunset light indicated to me this could be a dud, visually. "Have faith, have I ever been wrong!" implored my friend, "It will happen, I sense it". That is generally good enough for me, I mused.

As I was setting up the tripod and firing off a few 'check and see what happens' photographs to try and judge the light, in opposition to what the camera's meter was indicating, I recalled, vaguely at the time, but later research sharpened my memory, some lines from the much underrated American Poet, Amy Lowell (1874-1925):

Apples of Hesperides

Glinting golden through the trees,
Apples of Hesperides!
Through the moon-pierced warp of night
Shoot pale shafts of yellow light,
Swaying to the kissing breeze
Swings the treasure, golden-gleaming,
Apples of Hesperides!

Far and lofty yet they glimmer,
Apples of Hesperides!
Blinded by their radiant shimmer,
Pushing forward just for these;
Dew-besprinkled, bramble-marred,
Poor duped mortal, travel scarred,
Always thinking soon to seize
And possess the golden-glistening
Apples of Hesperides!

Orbed, and glittering, and pendent,
Apples of Hesperides!
Not one missing, still transcendent,
Clustering like a swarm of bees.
Yielding to no man's desire,
Glowing with a saffron fire,
Splendid, unassailed, the golden
Apples of Hesperides!

In Greek Mythology, which is full of ripping yarns, comes the myth of 'The Hesperides'. These are the Goddesses of golden sunset and evening twilight. They are often considered (though there are quite a few variations to the myth) to be the daughters of Erebus (God of shades) and Nyx (Goddess of night). Their daughters being: Agele (brightness), Erythia (scarlet) and Hesperarethusa (sunset glow). This rather colourful lot lived in the far west near the edge of the ocean apparently at the floor of Mount Atlas, though nowadays they can be found anywhere that is 'far west' around sunset, even Altona. The main function of these Goddesses, with the help of a regulation one hundred headed dragon (called Ladon) was to protect a garden where golden apples grew. These rather metallic tasting apples (they are most certainly not Granny Smiths I would offer) were a gift from Gaia (Earth) to Hera (arguably the greatest of Olympic Goddesses) when she married that robust bully God called Zeus (a deity not to be messed with but who messed about quite a lot, generally for no good). The Hesperides were very fine singers too, whenever they found themselves near springs (as you would be guarding a golden apple tree). Their singing in turn spurted forth flowers of ambrosia. Cannot imagine ambrosia or anything spurting if this spring was near Kororoit Creek (a major waterway in the western suburbs of Melbourne where I live) with its oil slicks, shopping trolleys and car wrecks but I unwisely digress. One of the major stories associated with The Hesperides relates to one of the famous twelve labours of Heracles (Hercules). It fell to this energetic lad (as if he did not have enough to do already) to fetch some golden apples after first slaying the dragon (which he did successfully). As a result of Heracles successfully nicking some of the golden apples, The Hesperides in their despair, turned into trees, namely Elm, Willow and Poplar. So, whenever you think of cutting down or trimming one of these remember you are hurting one of the Hesperides and one day we might just not get a sunset or twilight!

It was now getting onto half an hour past what had been an ordinary sunset so far. I was starting to reckon that this was a false adventure, albeit not the least unpleasant. Away to the eastern horizon, a plump yellow tinged full Moon was rising amidst a low haze across Port Phillip Bay. The twinkling of south-eastern suburban lights of Melbourne started to glow as thin riband and a large Container ship was plying up the channel heading toward the Docks. My friend again gently implored me to stay another handful of minutes, still certain of his auroral hunch. Then around 6:30 pm the faint skyline steadily grew to a modest then brilliant shimmer and the camera whirred away with a series of 5 to 15 second exposures, delayed only the by slow processing of the image in camera. It was a wonder alright! The first excited electrons I had seen in many months and a thrilling sight. If you can envisage two blokes standing on rickety wooden Pier clapping at the sight before our eyes, then that was us. The fishermen nearby, not the least perturbed, would occasionally turn around in complete disinterest and as quickly go back to check their lines amidst plumes of cigarette smoke and the aroma of stagnant tea. After only fifteen minutes or so this Hesperidian glow had gone and I patted my friend heartily on the back expressing my pleasure at his sense and thoughtfulness to give me a telephone call. Needless to say, as the chill of the early evening was now upon us, we retreated to a nearby licensed Cafe and I shouted my friend Bourbon and two.

ps

following the kind suggestions of blippers who reckon this is best viewed large, so 'best viewed large' - the 'stars' in the photo I gather are the planets Mercury (lowest to horizon and either Saturn or Mars).