My Solar Experience

“Dear God, if you want America to impeach Trump, please give us a sign…like blot out the sun from one end of the Country to the other”…

…so someone had posted on Facebook. I swear that was not the reason I decided to head off to South Carolina on Sunday (8/20) just to see if God was listening.  It would have been reason enough. However, I went as a pilgrimage, to view a solar eclipse in its totality…and I wasn’t alone.

I am not a devotee of astronomical physics, even as I am in awe of it. How individuals, even thousands of years ago, could figure these things out is beyond my sixty-seven year old, twenty-first century brain. I am, though, deep into the metaphysics of the Universe, which includes both heavenly phenomenon and loads of people traveling to and congregating at unremarkable places in the pursuit of celestial wonders.

I had made my hotel reservations a month before and picked a final destination which looked to me to be remote yet picturesque.  I thought I could end up being by myself, or nearly so, perfect for a contemplative experience. A small state park on Lake Greenwood, a lake manufactured under Roosevelt’s New Deal, located far away from urban centers, seemed just right.

Figuring on some heavier than usual traffic on major highways, I packed up the Prius (including a disassembled bicycle in the back) and headed off early at a leisurely pace.

My first stop was Charlotte, NC, which was a straight shot down Interstate 85. I think I understand now why they gave that particular name to this highway as there are probably 85 reasons not to travel it during periods of congestion. In the event of an alien attack I suggest you forgo I-85 as an escape route and view it more as a cemetery.

Even after a couple of attempts at detouring I eventually succumbed to my participation in the parade until it mercifully released me at my assigned exit. Giving into my “what…it’s only 7:45” exhaustion, I hit the pillow figuring I’d at least get a really early start in morning, which I did.

Unfortunately, the I-85 parade was still in active celebration.  I don’t believe a Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Balloon would have had any problem keeping up with the pack.  I opted out almost immediately and decided to go rogue on country roads. Smart choice…I think.

There is no telling whether traveling the back roads of South Carolina was economical on time or not (probably not), but it was cathartic.  The landscape was strikingly beautiful at times yet peppered with the decay of long standing poverty.  It revealed stories that interstate highways don’t allow you to hear.  Thinking about what had been there before made me wonder what kind of eclipse my memory would retain from this trip.

I made it to the State Park later than I had planned.  I thought it okay as it only meant less waiting time for the eclipse. However, the waiting time I first experienced was a line cars stretching all the way down to the entrance, a distance of three quarters of a mile.  My concern wasn’t so much the line as it was the snail’s pace by which it moved. The participants could have gone green and simply pushed their cars without consequence.

Thank goodness for alternatives.  I decided to simply pull over onto the large shoulder, take out my bike and power past the line, feeling smug and elated, yet still wondering (in the words of the Donald) what the hell is going on?.

The small park was filled, in fact before the eclipse began they would shut down the entrance.  I stopped a man, in his thirties, and asked where he was from. “Oh, from Tampa”, I said, “And why did you decided to come here?” He said CNN had broadcast it as a great place with only $2 parking. What?? What happened to fake news? Thousands and thousands of places along the path of Totality and I pick a CNN promo spot?

I got there at 11am while many of the people had staked out their spaces since 6:00 in the morning! At first glance it had the appearance and energy as one might anticipate from an evangelist floating in on a carnation enveloped barge with a promise to walk on water. I didn’t know what to expect.

It turned out to be just perfect.  The well disbursed participants were spirited and joyful.  Virtually everyone there had a common purpose. Even though they were all sure the eclipse was going to happen, they still held out the slight uncertainty that comes from never having had the experience before. I was one of them.

Many were colorful in their anticipation, with all kinds of paraphernalia for solar watching. There were boxes of all sizes, tripods, duck tape, Pringles cans…you name it.  Sun viewing glasses in every description, many modified with cameras and binoculars. It was wonderful. Everyone was happy to talk about their preparations. This was absolutely not Trump’s America.

The eclipse itself did not fail to meet expectations. In fact, for me and probably most others it exceeded those expectations considerably. The blue skies blessed us all.

You have probably already heard all kinds of descriptions similar to how I might describe the eclipse; the changes the fading light made to the surroundings, the hushed almost reverent sounds (or lack thereof) from the throngs, the pop of the corona at sudden full totality and the flashbulb flash when it ended, and the breathtaking  corona itself. 

I will say only this: I went onto Google Images to find a picture for this essay of the eclipse at totality that only a special lens can take. Out of the hundreds provided I couldn’t find one that showed what I saw. I had viewed it at both normal distance and up close with my binoculars.  That I could see something that appears to defy reproduction was and is quite special, indeed. Enough said.

The trip back was made almost entirely without use of interstate highways. Even then I chose certain routes that turned simple stoplights into mile long backups. It didn’t matter much. If that occurred I took even more remote paths to cross the Carolinas and had plenty to see along the way.

The two and a half minute totality of the eclipse and the anticipation that preceded it paid for the journey and more. However, I didn’t expect the dividends of sharing something which all were involuntarily and jointly part of.  I got to see a slice of America in distress and feel a touch of hope at the same time.  Not bad, not bad at all.