It was a “So this is Yale” moment and one that far exceeded my expectations. My friends and I agreed it was a primal experience, whatever on earth that means. Simple colors like orange, black and white took on intense, otherworldly dimensions. It almost seems foolish to try to describe the eclipse, but I’ve jotted down a few thoughts for posterity’s sake.
~
The day started off as summer days often do in semi-arid southern Wyoming. Our gathering spot, Alcova Reservoir, was the perfect location to view the eclipse. Cobalt blue skies offered a striking contrast to the dusty red hillsides tumbling down into the shimmering blue waters. As it often does at an elevation of over 5,500 feet above sea level, the sun radiated with intensity and clouds were minimal.
“20 minutes until transit begins,” Tony called out to our group. We set up our chairs theatre-style and awaited the spectacle.
I savored my cup of coffee and took it all in at this beautiful spot. Around me, I was surrounded by friends old and new, several of whom have been planning the eclipse adventure for years. I was along for the journey, buoyed by their enthusiasm. I wouldn’t have made the effort to plan an eclipse trip on my own, but I’m glad they did and I can honestly say that eclipse fever had overtaken me. I was stoked.
Transit began and we donned our flimsy yet protective glasses. Yes, something was happening up there. A small black chunk was cut out of the sun so we knew for sure that the count down until totality had begun. Every five minutes or so, our glasses went back on so we could check out the moon’s progress as is marched across the sun, turning it from an orange orb with a small bite taken out of it to a semi-circle to a half moon to a fingernail-sized golden sliver.
Science Lesson #1:
It is true what they say about temperatures dropping suddenly during an eclipse.
There was something weird about the light in the sky but none of us could put our finger on it. It was still bright daylight, but the magnificent high-altitude sun had lost some of its kick. As it often does in Wyoming, a breeze sashayed about. There wasn’t enough wind to cool things down yet it was definitely cooler.
Transit began and we donned our flimsy yet protective glasses. Yes, something was happening up there. A small black chunk was cut out of the sun so we knew for sure that the count down until totality had begun. Every five minutes or so, our glasses went back on so we could check out the moon’s progress as is marched across the sun, turning it from an orange orb with a small bite taken out of it to a semi-circle to a half moon to a fingernail-sized golden sliver.
Science Lesson #1:
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| Time to don the ski cap |
It is true what they say about temperatures dropping suddenly during an eclipse.
There was something weird about the light in the sky but none of us could put our finger on it. It was still bright daylight, but the magnificent high-altitude sun had lost some of its kick. As it often does in Wyoming, a breeze sashayed about. There wasn’t enough wind to cool things down yet it was definitely cooler.
30 minutes until totality and we’re still in 100% lightness. We were 20 minutes from totality and the sun was shining radiantly. 15 minutes to go and the sun was a bit less intense but still totally bright. Ten minutes, still 100% daylight.
And then it happened. I slowly spun around and checked out the scene as the landscape darkened. We were transported into a time-lapsed film, and I was inspired to take a short clip of video with my camera, something I seldom do.
Daylight, soft light, early evening, twilight, and inky black darkness sailed by in a blur. Our one minute and 42 seconds of totality had arrived. We removed our glasses and gazed at the moon-blocked sun. It is a dark black orb like no other with an ice white corona surrounding it.
Total darkness. Stars in the sky. Magic.
Collectively, a slowly ascending murmur escaped from the mouths of my friends and the smattering of people sitting near by. We weren’t a big crowd and we weren’t overly loud, but our reaction was heartfelt. I’m not really sure what we said, of the exact words or sounds, but they strongly conveyed a sense of awe. A primal feeling filled the air.
And then it happened. I slowly spun around and checked out the scene as the landscape darkened. We were transported into a time-lapsed film, and I was inspired to take a short clip of video with my camera, something I seldom do.
(Notice the music in the video, the theme song from the film 2001: A Space Odyssey. The piece borrows opening sequences from Richard Strauss' tone poem Also sprach Zarathustra. Big kudos to Justin for staffing the i-Pod and selecting a perfectly diverse mix of tunes to further set the mood of the day.)
Daylight, soft light, early evening, twilight, and inky black darkness sailed by in a blur. Our one minute and 42 seconds of totality had arrived. We removed our glasses and gazed at the moon-blocked sun. It is a dark black orb like no other with an ice white corona surrounding it.
Total darkness. Stars in the sky. Magic.
Collectively, a slowly ascending murmur escaped from the mouths of my friends and the smattering of people sitting near by. We weren’t a big crowd and we weren’t overly loud, but our reaction was heartfelt. I’m not really sure what we said, of the exact words or sounds, but they strongly conveyed a sense of awe. A primal feeling filled the air.
Our 102 seconds of in totality passed and light began to return to Alcova. The scene replayed itself but in reverse, inky black darkness, twilight, early evening, soft light, daylight. At some point during this process, a large hawk flew overhead. Regal, strong, and powerful it took advantage of the dim light to circle purposefully, keeping a watchful eye out for prey. Suddenly, it was 100% daylight again, the gentle daylight of early morning. For the second time that day, we emerged from darkness and our day began.
So that was the eclipse. It was magical, thought provoking, and surreal. I can’t wait for the next one.
So that was the eclipse. It was magical, thought provoking, and surreal. I can’t wait for the next one.
~
A few photos...
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| Now... |
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| ...a few seconds later |
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| Something about the shadows captivated us |
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| The sun casts shadows through the trees |
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| Our trip's lead organizers |
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