Two things about the eclipse of 2017 that I failed to mention in my previous post (http://timerskinephotography.blogspot.com/2017/08/a-hole-in-fabric-of-sky.html).
First, I didn't publish any pictures of the eclipse after totality because none of them turned out. When I did the second shot of totality, a wide angle one, I must have bumped the focus ring on my lens when I went back to full zoom. The Bailey Beads are just little fuzzy spots and the Diamond Ring is more like a fur collar. It was a stupid, frustrating rookie mistake. đ
Second, after most everyone had departed the viewing area I noticed something both strange and wonderful: no trash. I looked the length of the viewing area. No bags or bottles or papers. There was one napkin in the grass, which from the looks of it and where it was, was probably there before we were. Everybody took out what they brought in. A Facebook post from the National Park Service rangers at Grand Teton National Park reported much the same thing happened there, too. They were gearing up for a huge mess and there was barely anything at all for them to pick up. Given the number of people they had there, this gives one a bit of faith in humanity, despite the current media-amplified voices of protest, counter-protest, and counter-counter-protest.
Saturday, August 26, 2017
Thursday, August 24, 2017
A Hole in the Fabric of the Sky
The total solar eclipse of 2017 crossed the US from Oregon
to South Carolina, a distance of about 2,600 linear miles. The path of totality, where the moon would
completely cover the sun, was 70 miles wide, making the entire area of totality 182,000 square miles, an area about 10% larger than California. Some 12 million
people live in that swath of land and millions more would travel to be there
when the moon shadow passed. The Missus and I were two of those itinerant
seekers of totality.
![]() |
Path of Totality |
A small college town in southern Illinois (home of the
Southern Illinois University Salukis) was the city closest to the point of the
longest duration of totality. At a point a few miles southeast of there,
totality would last 2 minutes and 40 seconds. Carbondale, population 25,902,
was the place we wanted to be.
The eclipse was to happen on Monday, August 21. There were
some requests by the celestially obtuse to have the date moved. My friend Andy
from Wyoming reported a conversation with a dispatcher for the Wyoming Highway
Patrol. The dispatcher received a call from a woman who asked how Wyoming got
picked to host the eclipse and whether it wouldnât be better to have it on the
weekend. Andy then quoted Winston Churchill: âThe best argument against
democracy is a five-minute conversation with the average voter.â
But I digress. The eclipse was to happen on Monday, August
21. We were planning on driving from Columbus to Carbondale but life altered
our plans when we moved to Virginia. The drive from Cbus to Carbondale would
take 7 œ hours. Completely manageable for us as we did that distance in early
2017, driving to LeClaire, Iowa to see bald eagles. But relocating to Richmond,
Virginia (transplanted from Cbus to RVA) made the drive time an untenable 15+
hours. So we booked passage on Delta Airlines from Richmond to St. Louis and
rented a car (hired a car, for those readers who are subjects of the Crown) for
the 2-hour drive southeast to our target area. Well before any of this happened
though, I knew I had to reserve a room early. Like a year out, generally the
maximum in advance individuals can make reservations. Because I had not put
this on my calendar I started looking for a room 48 hours late, but still, a
full 363 days ahead of the eclipse. My tardiness was nearly lethal for our
plans: there were no rooms available in Carbondale.
![]() |
"I may be drunk, Miss, but in the morning I will be sober and you will still be ugly." |
A quick consultation with Google Maps showed another town
nearby. Marion, Illinois (population 17,193) is about 10 miles east of
Carbondale with a state highway connecting the two. After trying three hotels
in Marion, we managed to get a room at the Hampton Inn, one of only four left
for the event. It turns out that staying in Marion was more than a little lucky
(more on this later).
We arrived in Marion on Saturday, about 48 hours before the
eclipse. We wanted to use the time to explore the area and, more importantly,
scout viewing locations. This was a really crucial point on our agenda as the
news reports of how many people were going to descend on Carbondale itself
(hundreds of thousands) made being in the town itself undesirable for
crowd-haters like us.
I should note here that the staff at Hampton Inn â Marion
was really ready for this. The lobby was filled with all manner of literature
and brochures about the area and eclipse-related activities, well above and
beyond what you would normally find, including state highway maps from Illinois
Department of Transportation. All guests received a gift bag that had eclipse glasses (legitimate ones, not cheap rip offs), a local eclipse guide,
created by the staff, detailing local activities, places to eat, etc. It also had snacks â
moon pies, sunflower seeds and Eclipse gum. Well done, Hampton Inn â Marion.
Well done.
There was a lot going on in Carbondale to attract multitudes
besides 2:40 of totality. A three-day eclipse science show at Southern Illinois University was being put on by an uber-geek's Dream Team of NASA, Chicagoâs Adler Planetarium and the Planetary Society. The Weather Channel had reporters scattered across the
path of totality, but it dropped two into Carbondale. One of them was Jim
Cantore, their resident master of disaster. NOTE: If Cantore ever shows up in
your town in foul weather gear, leave. Now. Seriously, donât ask any questions, just GTFO
and donât look back.
Further reading on the eclipse showed that Carbondale was the self-proclaimed town closest to the longest totality but that the actual point of greatest totality was 10 miles southeast of town, in Giant City State Park (GCSP). This spot was pretty much equidistant from Marion as the crow flies, but Carbondale got the jump on the closest town claim.
We found on our scouting expeditions that GCSP was preparing
several designated viewing areas and girding their loins for an unprecedented
deluge of visitors. Armed with good maps and great senses of direction, we set
out to find an alternate route into the park to avoid the obvious route in from
Carbondale. We found two routes in that would normally take a lot longer, but
would likely bypass most of the vehicular congestion and wind up being quicker.
And then we saw it. Both of our alternate routes into GCSP
took us through a portion of Crab Orchard National Wildlife Refuge, and just a
couple of miles past the Refugeâs visitor center was a wildlife viewing area.
It was perfect. It was on a minor state road, had wide open spaces for viewing,
a small but paved parking lot, large grassy areas for setting up our spot (and
my camera rig), and most importantly, a Porta-Pottyâą. If we were going to be there
for several hours, this was a must. This viewing area, honoring a long-time
volunteer, became Plan A. The designated viewing areas in GCSP became Plans B,
C, D, and E. If all these failed, the hotel parking lot was Plan F.
![]() |
Our Spot was Plan A, Plans B-E were west-northwest of the Point of Longest Totality, Plan F was next to the Walmart. |
On the day of the eclipse we awoke at 5 a.m. The start of
the eclipse was at 11:52 a.m. Central Daylight TimeâŠit was E-minus 6 hours, 52
minutes. We had some fruit for breakfast, packed our locally-purchased
Styrofoam cooler with our locally-purchased sandwich fixings and water and
headed out. Then we stopped, headed back into the hotel, and got some liquid methylxanthine
CNS stimulants (coffee). Armed with that, we actually hit the road. It was 6
a.m. and the sky was just starting to lighten. We got to the Crab Orchard NWR viewing
area 15 minutes later. We were the second car there and backed into the spot we
wanted on the far side of the parking lot. E-minus 5 hours, 37 minutes.
Other eclipse watchers trickled in. The next people to show
up parked next to us. John and Cathy (or Jon and Kathy, or some such) were from
Cambridge, Ohio, about 70 miles east of Columbus. Later, a gentleman in a
bright, shiny red Chevy Silverado parked in the grass on the other side of us.
Bob was a really nice guy from Rock Island, Illinois. We chatted with our
neighbors all morning. By the time the eclipse started, there were nearly 100
people in the viewing area that had fewer than 10 parking spaces. Everybody
else was parked on the grass.
The eclipse watchers in the viewing area were from all walks
of life, all ages, creeds and colors. Everyone was happy, friendly, excited and
anxious for what was about to happen.
I set the alarm on my cell phone to go off at E-minus 1
minute and again at the minute of totality. When reveille (or as it is labeled
by my phone, army_wake-up_bugle) sounded loudly, people nearby looked at me.
âOne minute!â I shouted. I could hear the message get passed down the line in
both directions. People began donning their solar glasses and getting into their
viewing positions. The half-dozen photographers there, myself included, had
already dialed in their focus and exposures but we all now cozied up to our
camera eyepieces, made final positioning adjustments to our tripods and waited
for the first glimpse of the moon.
Just as I thought I saw the sunâs curvature start to flatten
at the 1 oâclock position, the guy three cars away with an outrageously good
solar telescope shouted, âThere it is!â Thus began the Solar Eclipse of 2017.
Everybody watched in amazement as the moon began to cover more and more of the sunâs surface. Even knowing the mechanics of what was happening â you know, the moon is moving between the earth and the sun â it was still a thing of wonder.
About an hour into the moonâs transit things around us began
to change. It had happened gradually but the light was now noticeably
different. To me, it was as if I was wearing polarized sunglasses. Everything
was still brightly lit, but there was a blue-gray tinge to the light. With
sunlight still streaming down onto them, there was no longer any glare coming
off of the parked cars. Even Bobâs shiny Silverado failed to shine. The other
thing that happened was that crickets started to chirp. They kept that up for
about 20 minutes before they decided they were too confused for mating rituals
and shut up.
It was at this point, where 70% to 80% of the sun was
obscured, that ancient civilizations in the path of an eclipse had to be utterly
freaking out. They couldnât see a cloud in the sky and it yet was getting dark
and the temperature was dropping. There werenât any ophthalmologists to warn
them against looking at the sun, so they would have looked up to see the sun
disappearing. How frightening that must have been for them. Cultures across the
globe and across the millennia have developed different responses to eclipses,
including making as much noise as possible to warn the sun of its impending
doom.
In 585 BC, it was the sixth year of a bloody, brutal war
between the Kingdoms of Medes and Lydia in what is now Anatolia in Turkey.
Right in the middle of a battle in May of that year a solar eclipse occurred. Everybody
agreed it was an omen. They dropped their weapons, exited the field of combat
and immediately declared a truce. A solar eclipse is more powerful than oneâs
bitter hatred of a mortal enemy.
At E-plus 1 hour, 27 minutes, approximately one minute before
totality, light began fading rapidly. It was as if somebody had put the sun on
a dimmer switch and was twisting it fast. That was something I hadnât read
about and was startled by it.
At E-plus 1 hour, 28 minutes the last glint of the sunâs
surface was enveloped by the moon. Totality had come to Crab Orchard. With so
many things to look at that we had never seen before, the next 2 minutes and 40
seconds went by much too fast.
First and most obviously, there was the sunâs corona. Even
the clearest, most vivid pictures of it donât convey how truly awe-inspiring it
is to see the thing hanging in the sky. And the center is so dark, so
completely black, that it appears that a hole has been cut in the fabric of the
sky and surrounded by a silvery mist.
![]() |
Totality |
The other thing to see and marvel at was the 360o
sunset. The horizon was lit with colors of sunsetâŠfrosty pink, pastel orange
and midnight blue. Seeing this all the way around instead of just to the west where
you normally see it was beautiful.
Then there was the sound of the people. Gasps, oohs and
aahs, laughter, happy chatter, cheering and shouts of joy, and that was just
me! Reactions were quite varied. Some people found it to be magical, some
mystical. Some people prayed, others simply wept at the astonishing beauty of
the event. Regardless of their reaction, everybody was just overwhelmed by what
they were experiencing and trying their best to express it to each other.
160 seconds later it was over. The end of totality was
announced by the appearance of Baileyâs Beads, where beads of sunlight began to
peek from between mountains on the moonâs surface. This was followed rapidly by
the diamond ring where most of the coronal ring is still visible but a large
burst of sunlight emerges on one side, creating the look of a diamond ring.
The process of darkening towards totality reversed itself,
with the dimmer switch being twisted in the other direction for about a minute,
returning Crab Orchard to polarized light and then gently increasing. By E-plus
3 hours, 5 minutes, Luna had completed her transit of Sol.
It was at this point that having lodging in Marion was shown
to be one of the luckier things to happen. A half million people were estimated
to have gone to Carbondale and they were all trying to go home, with most of
them apparently trying to get to the nearest interstate on-ramp, at I-57 in
Marion. Had we been staying in Carbondale it would have taken hours to go the
10 miles or so. As it was, we were able to take back and side roads to avoid
the crowds. Getting to Crab Orchard NWR took 15 minutes; returning to Hampton
Inn took 20. From the comfort of our hotel room we were able to watch the
traffic from Carbondale not moving towards I-57, which was at a standstill. In
20 minutes, the same amount of time it took us to get back, a semi
tractor-trailer moved the length of one semi tractor-trailer.
I wish that I could better convey the feelings of
exhilaration of experiencing totality (and really, you donât just see it, it is
experienced). Since the discovery of what causes eclipses countless poets,
writers, philosophers and musicians have experienced totality and none of them
have been able to adequately communicate the experience through their tools. So I donât feel
too bad about my incapacity in this case, just a little disappointed.
I think
perhaps the best way to convey the experience is to tell you to seek out the
next one. On April 8, 2024, just a little more than 6 œ years after I write
this, a total solar eclipse will once again traverse the US. It will travel
from Texas up to Maine. Cities like Dallas, Indianapolis, Cleveland, Buffalo,
Rochester and Montreal will be in the path of totality. Interestingly, it will
once again cross southern Illinois. And thatâs where we will beâŠin âour spotâ
at Crab Orchard National Wildlife Refuge.
My pictures of the eclipse can be found in my Flickr account: https://flic.kr/s/aHsm71PdM6
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)