As the last strip of pink on the horizon fades to indigo on the Maniototo Plain in Otago, every word I speak arrives in a puff of condensation. In winter the temperature here can drop to -15C. But the chill is worth it. Standing in the dark in what feels like the middle of nowhere, I've come to a paddock not far from the town of Naseby to stargaze.
Even in a country where there's about 20km of space per person, the Maniototo Plain is sparsely populated. Naseby is now home to just 140 people, and it's not even a place you drive through. "We're not on the way to anywhere," says local Jill Wolff. "You've got to choose to go to Naseby."
Yet many come. Naseby has long been popular with mountain bikers, and dedicated stargazers have always appreciated its spectacular night sky – something now more widely known since the town became a certified dark sky community in 2025.
Of the more than 200 dark sky places designated by DarkSky International, Naseby is New Zealand's 10th, and its first dark sky community – a title awarded for "exceptional dedication to the preservation of the night sky".
Wolff, a member of the volunteer community group that ran the certification project, says the town decided to pursue the title after a visit from astronomer and dark sky advocate John Barentine. "He said: 'This place is amazing. You guys have the most beautiful dark skies. You need to go for accreditation.'"
The timing was right. The district council was about to update the lighting plan, so it was the perfect opportunity to change Naseby's street lighting to a lower level of brightness. Still, the process, from documentation to community engagement and education, took 10 years. A survey showed almost every home already complied. "Once people understood that, they were on board," says Wolff. The group also bought telescopes and night binoculars and began running education sessions at the local tennis courts.
Paul Bishop started Naseby Night Sky Tours in 2018, a year after moving here from Dunedin. Originally from the UK, he studied astrophysics in London, and although he never pursued it as a career, his fascination did not waver.
With conditions good, I drive carefully out of town over bumpy gravel roads until I see Bishop's headlamp in the dark. It's a Monday night, so it's just the two of us. He uses his pointer to show me the easily recognisable stars and the broad sweep of the Milky Way, then positions his sleek Newtonian telescope on two of the stars in Alpha Centauri, our closest star system.
Over the next hour or so, we peek at the Jewel Box, an open star cluster that looks like a tipped-over box of diamonds, view the Orion Nebula, a swirl of interstellar dust and gas, and finally Saturn and its giant moon Titan. It is, as Bishop says, a tour through the history of the universe. By the time we're finished, my feet are frozen, and the sky is as dark as black velvet.
Gareth Davies, a DarkSky International committee member who championed Naseby's application, expresses the feeling perfectly: "Only when you look up at night do you see your true place in the universe … our ancestors did it, and we see exactly the same sky that they saw. There's nothing like it."
As I drive back to my accommodation with the car's heater on full blast to defrost my toes, Naseby is asleep, its street lighting suitably dim.