- 'Amy, get up, let's go see the comet.'
Amy rustled around in her bed, waking up from a sound sleep.
'Comeon, Amy, let's go to Mt. Evans and see the comet.'
[Amy:] No, I don't want to. What time is it'
'12:30. Ah comeon, Amy, it will be really neat. The stars will be bright and we will be able to see its tail.'
[Amy:] 'No, I have school tommorow, I want to sleep.'
'OK, but you are going to miss something that happens only every 1000 years or so. Me and Alyssa are going.'
[Amy:] 'Dad, wait. I want to go. DAD!! I WANT TO GO!! WAIT!!'
'Alyssa, get up, let's go to the mountains and see the comet.'
Alyssa opened her eyes, let my words sink in, then jumped out of bed. She had been through this when she was little, in 1986. Her teacher told me how proud she was that she saw Haley's Comet'
In 20 minutes Alyssa and Amy and I were in the car, rolling up towards the mountains (after stopping at Conoco for gas and candy and juice and coffee). I loaded pillows and binoculars and a printout about Comet Hyakutake. Our three dogs were with us, as protection and companionship for what awaited us after midnight in the mountains.
We joked and laughed and told stories all the way up Squaw Pass.
[Alyssa:] Did you know that there are ghosts at Outdoor Lab, Amy??? I have a friend who has seen them'. [Amy:] 'DON'T TELL ME ABOUT PEOPLE GHOSTS, I DON'T WANT TO HEAR IT'.
[me:] 'Look at the lights down there, that is Idaho Springs. It sure is dark. There was a lot of snow up here two days ago. I hope we don't slide off the road. Your mom might wake up and find all of us and the dogs gone and think we were kidnapped.'
[Alyssa: ] 'Didn't you leave her a note.'
[me: ] 'No, we left so fast.'
[me: ] 'I am glad the dogs are with us.'
[Alyssa: ] 'Why, to protect us against Mountain Lions??
[me: ] 'Maybe so.'
[Amy: ] 'Didn't I see Haley's Comet?'
[me: ] 'No, you were only one year old then. It was hard to see, just a little white dirty spot in the stars.'
[Amy: ] 'We came up here before though, didn't we.'
[me: ] 'Yeah, a few years ago we came up on a June night to watch the full moon set behind Mt. Evans at Dawn. It was beautiful, the sunrise colored the snow and the moon pink. I got some good pictures'
[me: ] 'Look at the tall trees. We are enterering the primeval spruce-fir forest.'
[Amy and Alyssa: ] 'If you play your harmonica again we won't give you anymore candy.'
(I had though the twinkle twinkle little star would be appropriate, but it is hard to drive the squaw pass road with one hand and hold the harmonica with the other.)
Alyssa caught glimpses of the comet out the window on the way up. She said she could see some of its tail.
We reached Echo Lake around 2am, and parked. I was not prepared for what I encountered as I climbed out of the car into the cold march night. The moon had set, it was pitch black. The alpine skies were saturated with stars, many magnitudes more than are in our city skies. Engelmann Spruce stood as pyramids in front of the soft light from the thousands of stars. I looked to the south and saw a red star, probably a planet.
Almost overhead in the northern sky, was what I brought my kids up here for, inducing them to get out of bed in the wee hours of a school night. Offering them the hope of seeing something memorable and beautiful.
Dad promised it would be worthwile, and maybe exciting, so they better go. It was a crazy thing to do.
They would not be disappointed.
'Kids, get out and see this, I cannot believe it, it is so beautiful.'
They piled out of the car. All three of use stood and were awstruck at the large comet, Hyakutake. It dominated the northern sky, a snowball followed by a long white streak which trailed off to the southwest, backlight by the blanket of twinkling stars. With binoculars we could see a dot in the comet, the nucleus.
I kept telling the kids how beautiful I thought this was, that it was better than I expected.
The site was more impressive with the naked eye, without our binoculars. Then you got the full impact of its size in the night sky. I put my arm up, to measure the tail. The comet went from my elbow all the way to my wrist, about a foot and a half, at arm's length.
The kids took it all in; they were impressed. This would be another special moment we would not forget. But it was cold here at 10000 feet, and Amy had to go to the bathroom (not up here though, where it was dark and scary.) They got back in the car.
I walked down the road a ways, to be myself for a moment, to watch the comet in silence. To give thanks for life, for the beauty of creation, for my kids.
