And so started my first encounter with Halley’s Comet events of 1986.

The radio station wanted to host a BBQ and Champagne Breakfast Show at the Beach. All listeners were invited to attend a viewing of Halley’s Comet on March 15 at Awatoto Beach. They needed someone with a telescope and somehow my number came up. I advised them that the date they had chosen was not suitable. Halley’s Comet would be better seen later in the month and in early April, because scientists advised us all that that was when it would stretch across and dominate the sky. So, I told them to delay the viewing. No. It would have to be March. It was already advertised and Radio marketers wanted to be first with the viewing.

Kerry Coker, a science teacher at St John’s College, where I was teaching, had access to the school 3″ refractor. He would bring that along as well.

The night approached. And at 1am I loaded up the car with the 8″ telescope sticking up and out of the boot. And off I drove to Awatoto.

Strange? There seemed to be lots of traffic on the road at 1am in the morning. As I arrived at the beach I could see hundreds of cars trying to park on the shingle banks of the beach. Car headlights swung back and forth as they parked. Hundreds and hundreds of people milled around.

‘Hey! there’s the telescope!’ someone shouted.

I managed to find a spot in the banks of grassy shingle, set up the telescope, while hundreds of people lined up behind the scope. I tried to find Halley’s Comet in the ENE sky over the sea with the rifle finder-scope on the side of the telescope barrel. But the lights of the cars and the faintness of the comet made it difficult. Got it. But the lights of the cars in the corner of the eye made it hard to focus – the pupils of the eye need to adjust to the dark. The radio people arrived wanting to know about the delay. They could not or would not do anything about the car headlights. After all, we are having a party!

People were getting impatient. So, I swung the scope around to NNW. There was Saturn, a shining golden orb.

‘Quiet, please, everyone! We have a problem.’

The crowd hushed.

‘The car headlights are swamping Halley’s Comet. As you come up to the telescope, use your own binoculars and just your eyes alone I will point out the Comet for you. But if you want to see something really good, I will show you Saturn and its rings!’ swinging my telescope majestically round to view the planet.

The crowd were stunned. But they lined up and one by one saw Saturn and its rings.

I, meanwhile, observed the following:

• ‘You mean you can see Saturn. Tonight?’
• ‘Why is it here? Is it because of Halley’s Comet? Did Halley call it here tonight?’
• ‘It looks just like my bathroom curtains.’
• ‘Hey, got my camera.’ Takes out camera. Points to comet. Turns flash ON. Takes shot of the comet.
• ‘Just shine your torch, up there. See, there is the comet.’ Points torch in direction of comet. ‘Now, can you see it better, dear?’

Thank heavens, Kerry arrived with the 3″ scope and trained it on Halley.

I just had to try educating them somehow, so I started giving little astronomical lectures to the crowds, as they were waiting their turn to see Saturn and the comet. But hysteria was growing.

‘Look, over there!’ a woman screamed. ‘Some little red lights have appeared over the hills. They weren’t there an hour ago. What does it mean?’ I tried to explain that as the earth turns, new stars appear above the horizon, hour by hour.

The crowd was not to be put off such prosaic explanations. The party carried on. I could hear beer bottles breaking as they were thrown over the beach bank. Then at 3.30am I noticed the orb of Jupiter rising over the sea in the ENE sky.

‘Kerry, turn your scope to Jupiter. We will form another queue.’

I turned and announced in my best magician-priest-scientist voice:

‘Behold, Jupiter arises in the East!’

This really set the crowd alight. Halley was dimming anyway so we now had two planets to view.  Hysteria grew.

• ‘How is it possible that they are here, now, tonight?’
• ‘Is this the great sign that the world is ending?’

Thankfully, the crowd dissipated and it was time for some BBQ sausages and champagne.

‘Sorry,’ said the organisers. ‘The BBQ and the champagne have gone.’

So was my faith in 100 years of the modern science curriculum.

We decided upon an 8″ reflector. I would grind the mirror and Dominic would research, or plan or design the components. I managed to get two blanks of 1″ thick glass locally for $10; we ordered the diagonal mirror, eyepieces and holder from the USA for $250; and Dominic had an equatorial stand made by a retired engineer for the princely sum of $60. The aluminium tube cost $10. I spent months grinding the mirror. And after grinding, came hoursof fine polishing with wood pitch and jeweller’s rouge.

Soon it was time to apply the Foucault Test to the mirror using candle, razorblade, and water. One person poured water over the mirror to keep it wet, while the other tried to catch the patterns of a light ray diffracted by the razor-blade and reflected on the mirror. Amazingly, one could detect down to 1/8 of wavelength of light of surface variations on the glass. One could determine then whether one had shaped a parabola on the glass. After hours of trial and error tests we achieved the best parabola we could get for our equipment.

Finally the mirror had to be silvered. Dominic was determined that we should have a silver mirror rather than an aluminium one. One could get the mirror sprayed with aluminium but it was less reflective than silver. On the other hand, silver was difficult to apply and less permanent. So, I had to visit the pharmacies and chemist shops of Hawkes Bay, for silver nitrate solution, which many chemists no longer used. The mirror had to be perfectly cleaned by concentrated acid, and ammonia was added to a mixture of water and silver nitrate to cause the silver to precipitate. After many failures, finally we had a silvered mirror, even if a bit milky.

All the parts were assembled and aligned, and behold, it worked! The moon, Jupiter’s red spot, Saturn’s rings, and the Milky Way, all became wonders of the night and a source of enjoyment for family and visitors.

We were both immensely proud of this achievement. I then sought the company of others who enjoyed night-sky viewing, and joined the local astronomy club only to find that meetings were dominated by philosophising about the nature of deep space and the universe. No one seemed to view the sky itself.