Starry Starry Night

Are you singing along to that Don McLean song about Vincent van Gogh and his struggle with mental illness which eventually led to his suicide?

Well this post is a 2026 update. It’s about another starry night, a lot closer to home. Yes, van Gogh’s 1889 painting is brilliant. It lives at the MoMA in New York City, available for all to visit. It’s described by some critics as “transforming a turbulent mental state into a timeless version of cosmic beauty.”

But, for us, seeing the real thing a few nights ago was even better.We were visiting our son’s cottage in Muskoka with other guests who live in New York City. They had done their homework about things to do while in cottage country. One of them was called the Torrance Barrens, best visited in the evening. We ate a quick dinner, packed up the cars with blankets and flashlights, and headed out into the night. It was only 8:30 but already starting to get dark.

The drive was longer than expected. The first part, on a major highway between Bracebridge and Gravenhurst, was speedy. Then there were a few two-lane roads to navigate as we looked for signs of Torrance Barrens. Finally we came to a crossroad and a tiny sign. We turned into another back road, even narrower and very curvy. It felt almost spooky, like we were going into nowhere. There were no other cars around.

Then suddenly we saw lights. Cars, 20 or more, were parked on both sides of this country road. In the middle of this stretch was an an entrance to a parking lot which was full to overflowing. We drove along farther until we found parking spaces for our group. We gathered up our belongings and followed other visitors through the parking lot and into the unknown.

The pathway went across a granite rock face with little cracks and crevices. Luckily the other guests had known to bring red light flashlights, enough for all of us to see as we made our way across the uneven surface. Soon we began to hear quiet voices. Then we came across the viewing site – a large open area, where people were sitting on chairs, lying on the ground, or even standing. Everyone was looking up. Nobody was talking.

The view above us was awesome. There was no light pollution. We easily made out the big dipper, part of the Ursa Major constellation. Then someone mentioned that there are 88 constellations in our northern sky. We began to identify shooting stars, countless tiny lights darting across the sky above. One guest had brought his phone and called up an app, one of at least 20, which tracks and names the constellations overhead.

We whispered quietly among ourselves about space travel. It was a night with no moon, and the space station was out of sight, on the other side of the world. The nearest star was light years away. Like the astronauts, we began to feel small, oh so small. And insignificant. We stayed for about an hour, admiring the magnificent view and our tiny place in it. Sorry van Gogh, but your image of space in 1889 can’t compete with what we can see for ourselves in 2026.

Then we went back to our cars. As we drove out, more cars were driving in. They had heard that the best time to view this scene was at 1:00 am. But our kids had other ideas. They were hungry and wanted to head back to civilization. The bright lights of the Golden Arches were calling.

Sue