eclipse trips

Let's just agree to disagree.

Would we get lucky in Kentucky? That was the question. On Friday the cloud models were mixed. I still remember the disappointment from getting rained out last minute in 2017 below Rabun Bald, GA. I didn't want to repeat that experience. Would it be worth ~11 hours of driving one way to try again for totality?

 

2017 rain check

You never know unless you go. With time taken off from work for Monday and Tuesday, we decided to rent a mini van and load the boys up for an epic 4-day road trip. We stopped Saturday in Knoxville and picked up our friend Mark. Sunday, we dispersed camped off the Canal Trail in Land between the Lakes.

camping in LBL

Rainstorms came and went overnight. Come Monday morning, we had less than an hour's drive alongside the foggy banks of the Ohio River to our final destination: Mantle Rock Nature Preserve. The sun was poking out from the low clouds. We had time to walk a scenic 2.75-mile trail loop before the show.

Along Mantle Rock Trail

swimming hole near Mantle Rock

Back at the trailhead, a small crowd gathered and excitement mounted for the imminent eclipse. We dried out wet camping gear, chatted with fellow totality chasers, enjoyed a picnic lunch and the boys played with other children. The sun slowly began to go away behind the moon. The moment approached.

Getting ready...

Totality!

It's hard to put into words such an experience. From reading up some on solar eclipses, there were things I wanted to look for immediately leading up to and during those fleeting two minutes of totality. First, I made sure to look to the western horizon: there I saw a brooding darkness like a cloudless storm.

This 100-mile-wide shadow moved at about twice the speed of sound towards us. So I really didn't have a chance to process its approach even though I was staring right at it. But never mind that because my attention now shifted towards the spectacle of the moon's silhouette almost perfectly blocking the sun.

I say almost because a brilliantly red bonfire appeared to burn at the bottom of the moon: a loop prominence ejecting plasma maybe some 50,000 miles into space from the surface of the sun. In my ignorance, I pronounced it to be Baily's beads, which were also visibly apparent. A cold wind blew.

The image felt fake. I desperately kept staring at it hoping my brain could process and accept it before the window of time elapsed. It felt wrong to stare at the sun. The cool white light of the corona extended further out than I expected. I made sure both sons were looking at it, though I didn't need to worry.

Jupiter and Venus appeared on opposing sides of the sun, a remarkable orientation that I can imagine is only observable from Earth during a total solar eclipse. The frogs began chirping in a nearby pond. Wildlife prepared for evening festivities in the middle of the day. The beads bounced around the moon.

A voice announced that the totality was coming to a close. The parents among us rushed to shield our children's eyes. The two minutes we had come all this way to witness were now over. I cast my eyes down and suddenly saw the shadow bands rushing across the gravel eastward and away from me like waves.

The dark shadow, this immense cloudless storm faded away over the eastern horizon.