‘Southern Cross’: Crosby, Still & Nash; 1982 (off the album Daylight Again).‘When you see the Southern Cross for the first time, you’ll know why you came this way…’
It’s highly unlikely that any reasonably educated human being on planet Earth would not have heard of the Southern Cross constellation. More so for those of us who live in the Southern Hemisphere, especially Cape Town where this kite-shaped stellar phenomenon is visible year-round. Known formally as Crux (Latin for ‘cross’), it is the smallest of the 88 International Astronomical Union named constellations. Contrary to its name and arrow shape, it does not actually point due south, which might disappoint some armchair astronomers or campfire experts, but with its ‘pointer stars’ can be helpful to giving a pretty accurate approximation of the southern pole. Positioned neatly at the southern end of the Milky Way, its four main stars and nearby neighbours, Alpha and Beta Centauri, are prominent and have guided navigators for centuries. *
Crux was not always a Southern Hemisphere treasure, which might feel strange to us short-lived terrestrials. In fact, in very recent times in terms of the Earth’s age, Crux was visible as far north as Britain in the fourth millennium BCE. Due to a process known as the precession of the equinoxes (very simply put, the earth does not only rotate east to west; there is also a very gradual spin of the rotational axis, somewhat like a top reaching the end of its spinning cycle and tipping as it spins): Crux will return to the north in around 26 000 years. So no need to diarise just yet. Of course, as Crux disappeared slowly out of Europe’s range of visibility and out of living memory, it became more prominent down under; this has embedded the small constellation deep into the cultures of the Southern Hemisphere.
In several Aboriginal cultures the Southern Cross has been seen as: the Emu in the Sky; a possum in a tree; the sky deity Mirrabooka; a stingray (which we can identify with); and an eagle. The eagle identification is echoed by the Aranda of Central Australia, who saw the four main stars as an eagle’s talons, and broadened the constellation to include nearby Gamma Centauri as the eagle’s leg. The path of Crux across hemispheres is reflected in Northern cultural history too; in India Hindu tradition the cross was formed by the sage Vishvamitra in prehistorical times. The Chinese, too, have written history of an asterism Shí Zì Jià, meaning Cross, now vanished, but remembered.
The aquatic naming theme is popular in many other cultures; in the East Indies, Brazil, Indonesia and Malaysia the manta ray is seen as represented by the shape of the cross, in Ancient Vietnam it was the ponyfish constellation: as a staple food resembling a small skate, sight of the stars was a good fishing omen. In Samoa it’s a triggerfish and in Tonga a duck. Crossing to New Zealand, the Māoris thought of the Southern Cross as the Milky Way’s anchor, and we have to admit that that depiction appeals to us. What is notable is how the Southern Cross is heraldically standardised in various ways on the national flags of Australia, Brazil, New Zealand, Papua New Guinea, and Samoa. It is a fitting salute to the aboriginal cultures as well as an acknowledgement of the uniqueness of the constellation.
This is not meant to be an astronomical discourse, so going into the wealth of cosmological descriptives that apply to the main stars and their close companions would transform this narrative from blog to thesis. Suffice it to say that the four main stars are all Cepheid variable stars (say what?), are all in the region of 5 to 10 times the mass of our Sun, and up to 50 000 times more luminous (they pulsate, hence the ‘up to’. )Things are not what seem from the naked eye, however; Acrux – the bottom star, and third brightest in our night sky – is a three-star cluster, and Gacrux – the top star – is a double star. We’ll leave it at that: the mathematics and dynamics of star clusters belong to that thesis we are avoiding.
Within the Cross lies the beautiful Jewel Box, an open cluster of stars sighted from Cape Town in 1752 by Nicolas Lacaille, and so named by astronomer John Herschel who raved that it “gives the effect of a superb piece of fancy jewellery.” Off to the east of the Cross is a mysterious empty patch called the Coalsack Nebula, a dark patch of interstellar clouds that obscures light from background stars completely. All these mysteriously beautiful aspects combine to add more allure to amazing Crux, beguiling us since the 15th century, when Venetian navigator Alvise Cadamosto made note of what was probably the Southern Cross on exiting the Gambia River in 1455, calling it the Southern Chariot.
And so to another Southern Cross: Waterfront Charters very own sturdy twin-decked vessel that has served us faithfully for over three decades. Named – of course – for those guiding stars in the sky, she has been offering Harbour and Seal Tours since day one, and with a hull that is based on those of deep-sea trawlers she is as steady and manageable a boat as any afloat. We have decided to combine two of our most favoured offerings: the inimitable Southern Cross and our ever-popular Champagne Sunset Cruises. This will bring in a lower-priced alternative to our catamaran Sunset Cruises, while losing none of the attractions. The comfortable seating on both decks is ideal for weary legs; you’ll get your complimentary chilled sparkling wine to toast the occasion, the views are always magnificent, the midships refreshment area is packed with chilled beverages for all ages, and the crew are highly experienced and extremely knowledgeable to boot.
So, referring to Steven Stills magical words quoted above, once aboard our Southern Cross you’ll know why you came this way.
(*Handy tip for amateur navigators: to find South using the Southern Cross, drop a vertical line from top star (Gacrux) through bottom star (Acrux) to the horizon. Then locate Alpha and Beta Centauri – the pointers – just to the east. Drop another line downwards at right angles to the line between Alpha and Beta until it intersects with the first line. Directly below that intersection point on the horizon is pretty much due south: certainly close enough to navigate your vessel should your compass and GPS fail you. At night, in clear weather, mind you.)
