Eclipse

I am a sucker for celestial events. There was a Sunday night many decades ago that had Randy and me driving from Temecula, to Mount Palomar, down to the Salton Sea, and finally back to Temecula to get a glimpse of a meteor shower. Our respective partners weren't so enthused, especially with the return home just in time to get ready for work. Clouds were our nemesis. Seems that the entirety of southern California was covered and no meteors were to be seen.

My attempt to have the kids witness the great eclipse of  2017 was almost, but not quite, as shrouded. The weather report leading up to the event was bothersome. Seems that a large portion of the midwest was going to have some cloud cover. There was the possibility of opening through the clouds, but one just couldn't predict these things. This trip too, was defined by clouds plus some rain, lightning and thunder.

We left for Rosecrans Airport at St. Joseph, MO the day before. What should of been a six hour trip took over seven and there wasn't even traffic, just construction. That was warning number one. We arrived on a sweltering Sunday afternoon. We suffered through the afternoon, fixed dinner, walked about the other campers and hit the sleeping bags for the evening among the other eclipse hopefuls.

We woke up to a cool, cloudy morning. I thought this might be the day my kids would begin drinking coffee. But nope, hot chocolate was the drink of choice.

I brought along eclipse glasses and some cardboard parts to build a pinhole viewer. After waking up Galen proceeded to constructive the viewer for the big event.

The news was reporting storms and clouds throughout the day, not good for eclipse viewing. Hmmm. But there wasn't anywhere to go. If we had headed way out west two days before, fine. But on the day of the celestial line up, we were where we were gonna be.

Initial contact was not to be seen. It wasn't until about 10% coverage did the clouds thin out for viewing. At this pointy we didn't need the eclipse-glasses. With them, one saw nothing. Without them, one could easily view a shiny object being consumed by the moon. Way cool. The sun peaked in and out of the clouds several times, each showing a bit more black.

This repeated off and on up to the totality. We missed the diamond ring and the initial plunge into darkness. At least from direct viewing, but of course it still got dark. The ring of sunset around the site was eerie and beautiful. The sunset to the north and south was colorful. But to the east and west, inline with the cloud front, it was simply dark.

And then the clouds thinned. There it was, the ring of fire, we could view the eclipse. We were one of about 700 campers, and another 15,000 viewers around the airport. When the ring of fire popped through the clouds the entire crowd erupt in a cheer. I got goosebumps.

Galen flittered about like a butterfly cycling between laughing and shouting. Liam walked about and looked up - smiling. They both stated it was fun, cool, and worth the trip. As the days and months pass, I hope to probe their memories. We'll see if I created any eclipse chasers.

For myself, I do not recollect much of the experience. It was disappointing, yet it wasn't. The event was a reminder of our insignificance. It was a majestic reminder of physics that drive the universe and our existence. And it was beautiful.

We streamed out of the airport and joined thousands of drivers flooding the freeway. The six hour drive that took seven the day before, took us over ten and one half to get home. But for the immensity of the traffic, it was calm. There wasn't honking, rude shuffles to get a spot, and I saw no accidents. The awe and calm of the eclipse carried over to the drive home.

view the photos here