A RAISED SPECTRE
Andrew Terrill enjoys the unexpected gift of ‘British’ weather in his Colorado home – and sees a fabled ghostly mountain spectacle
For three days fog had smothered the mountain above my home. But I wasn’t complaining. Here in sunny Colorado fog was a rare treat – cherished ‘British’ weather. It also brought treasures: in biting February air the moisture was freezing onto every surface, decorating trees and rocks with exquisite feathers of frost.
Fog has its benefits.
When I reached the summit visibility was limited, as forecast. But then something shifted. I sensed a hint of a breeze, a suggestion of brightness. Suddenly, blue sky appeared overhead. Sunlight struck my face. As if by magic, the fog dropped away. The summit became an island above the clouds.
At first, I simply stared, scarcely able to believe my luck. But then a thought occurred: the sun is low, my shadow long. If I find a perch above the clouds perhaps I’ll see a… well, dare I hope? I dashed to a nearby outcrop and – yesss! – there it was in all its rainbow-hued glory, that elusive atmospheric phenomenon: a Brocken spectre.
I’d seen Brocken spectres before, back in the British hills and other ranges. But years had passed since the last one, despite my searching. I’d even failed to spot one on Brocken in central Germany, the mountain after which the phenomenon is named.
Yet finally, here one was – a simple splitting of light, the ordinary transformed into extraordinary, an unexpected gift, a prompter of delight and awe.
I savoured the sight for a long while, until family responsibilities pulled me downwards into the fog-bound valley.
But I climbed back through the fog the next morning, barely daring to hope… and was rewarded for it. Doubly blessed, I laughed in appreciation. Brocken spectres, it seemed, were like buses. Wait years for one, then two arrive back to back!
‘Here it was – a simple splitting of light, the ordinary transformed into extraordinary’