3 Nights with A3
Three nights, three attempts. Photographing a comet sounded simple enough, but nature and circumstance don’t always cooperate with the best laid plans.
Comet C/2023 A3 Tsuchinshan-ATLAS, A3 for short, was near Earth. Estimates suggest the comet last passed through the inner solar system approximately 80,000 years ago. At that time, Earth was deep into the last glacial period, often referred to as the Ice Age. Large animals like the wooly mammoths, sabre-toothed cats, and giant ground sloths thrived. Neanderthals were widespread across Europe and parts of Asia, and early modern humans (Homo sapiens) were beginning to migrate out of Africa. We were all living in a much colder and harsher environment dominated by glaciers and megafauna.
A3 was only going to be visible for a few days, not to return for another 80,000 years. I wanted to make sure I caught the show before it was gone.
I chose Forest Park for the venue. Across from the Muny Theater is Pagoda Circle, a circular moat with a small island in the middle. On this little patch of land is Nathan Frank Bandstand. Dedicated in 1925, the bandstand is of classic Renaissance design, built with white marble and concrete, bronze rails, and a copper roof. I figured this historic landmark would make a perfect pairing with a once in a lifetime comet.
My plan was also in place. I would show up just before sunset, scout the area, and decide on a composition. This would give me a little time to set up the camera and make some initial adjustments. Once the sun was down things would happen quickly. A3 would appear relatively close to the horizon, and then set shortly after that. I had maybe half an hour before it disappeared for the night.
On the first night the comet was a no-show. By the time the sky was dark enough for the comet to be visible, it was already hidden behind the tree line. I did, however, get some nice sunset shots of the bandstand.
The second night didn’t go much better. I had misjudged my camera placement and discovered the bandstand was actually blocking my view of A3. I moved a few steps to the right and was able to get a few shots before it once again dipped below the tree line. I wasn’t happy with the photos, as the comet was too low in the frame, appearing beside the gazebo and not above it where it should be.
Night three. Armed with a better idea of the timing and the path A3 would take, I set up my camera, dialed in my settings, and waited. And then it appeared, just above the roof of the bandstand, glowing against the night sky. I knew I had to move quickly, adjusting my settings to balance the light and shadow before the comet dipped below the horizon. The lights from the bandstand reflected perfectly on the water, and everything finally fell into place.
As I stood there, I thought about the comet’s journey across the sky, here one minute and gone the next. It reminded me that some moments are like that—brief, fleeting, and if you blink, you might miss them. But that’s what makes them special. That night, as the comet dipped below the horizon, I occurred to me it was about putting in the effort, about being present and ready to see things that are here and gone in a flash.