There’s so much going on this month that I didn’t have time to
write Sky Watch for October. But I did pick out one of my favorite
articles about the time I had the chance to witness my first and
only total eclipse. Hope you enjoy it, again.
There’s so much going on this month that I didn’t have time to write Sky Watch for October. But I did pick out one of my favorite articles about the time I had the chance to witness my first and only total eclipse. Hope you enjoy it, again.
There I was, standing just outside a little town known as Sallum on the western border of Egypt, just a half-mile from the Libyan border, overlooking the Mediterranean Sea. I was there with my cameras on tripods with special solar filters pointing toward the sun, with maybe 1,000 other people, to experience my first solar eclipse.
I had been awake since 1:30 that morning going over and over in my mind the procedures of the event, just to make sure I didn’t forget anything. The last thing I wanted to do was come all this way and mess up. Experts say to make a list and stick to it. But I knew in my mind that I had it all down in my head – no stinking list needed.
Ten minutes to go until the moon’s first contact with the sun, I heard the man next to me starting to get a little flustered. He began to question his settings and what he was supposed to do next. I chuckled to myself, knowing that I was fully prepared because just this morning, I had gone over what could possibly go wrong a million times.
And just then, I had a flashback to the mid-1950s. It was the one Christmas morning I got up to see what was under the Christmas tree, and no doubt, there stood one of the best surprises of my life: my first telescope, all set up and ready for me to start a hobby that would last for a lifetime.
I spent the rest of Christmas Day outside in my pajamas seeing what I could see. I wonder to this day if my mother – I mean, Santa – really knew what she was getting me into.
Just as quick as my mind had wondered off to the ’50s, I was back to my tripods, stuck in this sandy site with only 5 minutes to first contact. At this time I was feeling like I might be getting more flustered than my friend next to me, wondering if I had forgotten something. But I assured myself that this wasn’t the case.
Now, less than a minute to go, and off my mind went again. This time, it went back home to my good star-gazing buddies Mike and Steve, wishing they were there to experience that moment with me.
And then I started thinking of the week leading up to this moment, and how my wife, JoAnne, and I had made the trip across the Atlantic Ocean and witnessed the ageless river Nile and the mighty pyramids of Giza and Sakkara along with the inspirational Sphinx.
Then my mind was brought back to the present by the cheers of my fellow onlookers. First contact had occurred at 11:20am. Right on time, I started taking my pictures – once every 5 minutes or so as to give me a good series of photos to show off to my friends back home, and to give me a good record of what really happened just in case I failed to witness a visual for myself.
The moon ever so slowly kept covering the sun, first one quarter, then half and then three quarters. I made sure to keep a cool head and do everything right, just as I had practiced in my mind so many times before. And then it started to happen. I noticed the sky started to turn a dark blue; the shadows on the ground were more vivid than I had ever seen before; the birds that I had noticed chirping were silent now; a little chill had filled the air as I put on my jacket.
I was so excited I could hardly stand it. I felt like I was in my own little zone. Even JoAnne, my non-astronomer partner, was getting exited. And then, just before totality, I heard someone yell out, “There’s Venus!” It was getting so dark out that you could actually see the planet Venus along with some of the other bright stars twinkling in the middle of the day.
And then, like some supreme being had intervened, at 12:38 pm the sky turned black, the sun disappeared behind the moon, and this bright haze around the two combined bodies, known as the “suns corona,” shined brightly like some hazy atmosphere.
But then my biggest fear came upon me. After feeling so cocky about my readiness and doing everything just right, I remembered that I had forgotten to take off the filters on both cameras just as totality began. At that time of totality, you can look directly at the sun without the aid of a filter of any kind.
Where was my stinking list? I was dumbfounded, but I managed to pull myself together enough to accomplish the feat. But by that time, I realized that I had missed the opportunity to catch on film the first part of totality, Bailey’s Beads and the Diamond Ring.
Even with the excitement going through me at this time, my mind took off on me once again, this time to my father, Harry, who I never met. He had fought in this area during World War II and lost his life fighting for his country. Maybe he had stood in that very spot at one time, I thought. Maybe he was the reason I was even there at that location, at that time.
I don’t know. All I knew is that I had an eerie feeling, so I backed away from my camera to look around. I don’t know what I expected to see, certainly not him. But maybe he was there in some sort of spiritual way.
I kept on taking pictures, and I even remembered to put the filters back on after totality. I was able to get good pictures of the Diamond Ring at the end of the total. It happened in less than 4 minutes, yet it seemed to pass in seconds.
I’m so happy we made that trip to Egypt, even with all the plane rides; all the bus trips; the money spent and all the worrying. All I can say to you is: if you have the chance to witness a total eclipse, just do it.
The next great total eclipse I would like to go see is in China in 2009. I can wait, I think. You can be sure of one thing, though: I will have my stinking list ready, and I’ll use it.
Clear skies.
